Whispers of the Turbines: Poetry amidst the Wind Farm
Bright Energy Investments are proud to support the works of WA author Gillian Clark inspired by the Albany Wind Farm
The collection contains works by Gillian and attendees of Torndirrup Poetry Writing Workshop on Saturday 20th January at City of Albany library.
The workshop aims to inspire participants to create eco-friendly poetry with a focus on windfarms and the rich cultural context of the Aboriginal six seasons. By exploring the symbiotic relationship between nature, sustainable energy, and indigenous wisdom, participants will craft poems that celebrate the beauty of the environment while raising awareness about the importance of eco-friendly practices.
Gillian Clark is a WA based poet, writer and performer with a sensitivity to nature, drama in art, and a love of performance poetry appearing at festivals and showcase events. With a NIDA (National Institute of Dramatic Arts) Acting background, her love of words has led her to poetry and literary writing. She has also appeared in anthologies and chapbooks published by WA Poets Inc.
Contributions are open to local writers who have visited the viewing area at the Albany Grasmere Wind Farm and want to share their original creative expressions. If you wish to contribute to the collection of works email your poem or short story to info@brightenergyinvestments.com.au Please include a title and your name.
Please enjoy the poetry:
The Turbines - Gillian Clark
Line dancers in the windy sky
while whales breech beneath.
In a sea breeze or gusty gale
wands slice the sun and clouds.
Their synchronicity and
the awhish, awhish of their blades
generates a city.
Here on the Torndirrup Pennisula
these pillars capture clean energy.
The eternal turning
that powers the southern region
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One for the environment - Gillian Clark
One for the environment
No fossil fuel stench or offal
Power and force gracefully wrought
One for the environment
On common land of common man
Turquoise blue the seas beneath.
One for the environment
Wings on the constant move
Except for the inert one of eighteen
One for the environment
The lesson that lies in the wind and the waves
More than the classroom textbook can speak of
One for the environment
Sea mist comes on in
Dispersed by blades of strength
One for the environment
Swift fluid movers swirl on
Cut through past, present and future.
---
Fluid Hope - Gillian Clark
In the burning time of Beruc we welcome the newborn
as they emerge moist and squawking from their eggs.
While parched surrounds with low easterly winds
whip the dust up from the land.
Does the vibrance of the Christmas tree in orange hues transmute?
The cicadas rub into the mix
amidst the saltbushes where the goannas lay their young.
The turbines push on blade after blade
singing a near silent promising song
for all seasons.
Arms across the expanse
up high on the cliffs
so reassuring if only people could be that reliable!
Also express energy, expend pressure
these awe-inspiring giants of the air.
---
Pillars of Strength - Gillian Clark
Colossus of Rhodes
Statue of Liberty
Turbines of Albany
Standing tall overseeing endeavours
from antiquity to the 21st century:
monuments to human kind.
New York and Greece here have sway
with their idealised tributes to democracy.
Statues are freedom effigies,
gateway bastions these three,
yet the turbines labour for their personified place
and give back manifold.
The wind farm’s metal magnitude is colossal
generating power to thousands of homes.
They are the strength behind change
real revolution of a nuts and bolts kind.
To inspire and equate such connection
dancing in the sky haphazardly,
everyday heroes with a pulse for the future.
---
To stand still - Gillian Clark
What if they all stopped?
Stationery sculptures of the sky.
The sound of the other seventeen
isn’t so much noise pollution,
sounds like planes in flight perpetual.
The misty day adds magic to the scene,
tourists look to the ocean.
I am transfixed by the sky gods -
they too look at the view.
The sea hurtles about haphazard beneath
buffeted by the currents.
Time is idle up here
as the rhythmic movement is a constant.
So mesmeric and yet intangible how they entice
the sheer power of their execution.
One cannot speak their language -
the language of the wind.
---
Windmill: I am at One: - Helen Bolton
Who am I to stand here?
- Still, vast, empowered
Who am I to look out?
- Mesmerised, engaged, enlightened
Who am I to listen?
- Woosh, crash, never-ending
Who am I to feel?
- Wind, sun, salt
Who am I to feel?
- Excited, forlorn, confused
Who am I to be here?
I am energy
I am nature
I am at one
---
Kinjarling - Albany Wind Farm - Susan Ffoulkes
Behatted head needs two hands.
A mob of wind, a current team,
Southern Ocean your field of dreams
A whirling squad leaps onto land
Kicks the sea spray up the cliff face.
You riot of ecstatic gods!
Scrumming round the elegant pods
Invisibly solid, slapping haste -
Birac to Kinjarling summer
You shove the blades from sky to ground
Incessant winds whooshing them round
One after another after another
One after another after another
One after another…
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