Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2011

Riverside Reverie

by robert dale

At the creek where the river paths its way to the horizon
I build a wooden frame: a living catalyst or compass
Or a fanciful mesh of twigs and string
Woven with childish dreams and idealisms.
I am a drone to the dowsing rod seeking to map out a destiny
Which weathers my bedroom mural, unpinning every reverie at the seams.
It is susceptible to time, to age and withered with rot
Veering Hansel away from his bread crumbed-track.
So easy is it for a river to meander
That sometimes I forget where to go or who to be.
To lose my roots in a re-brand; acclimatise and adapt
Or lie like drift-wood on a sandy bank, my mind eroding into the watery abyss.

Added: 13.03.2011