POETRY

I  have always loved to write and remember taking pride in what seemed a long essay written in primary school,  the content of which cannot recall.  I became a copious letter- writer and kept in touch with family and friends  while living abroad for most of 1967 to early 1973. An avid traveller during these and subsequent years, the letters were long and detailed, both introspective and descriptive.
The first poems emerge during my 30’s born of the Sturm and Drang of romantic  relationship, and of the natural world, parallel with early explorations as a visual artist.  In the late 90’s/early 2000’s, after a long  hiatus, intermittent poems explore issues of oppression and social justice, again in parallel with, and sometimes incorporated into my art by varied means. By 2015  poetry replaces art-making as a sustained creative focus and I revel in the intellectual challenge as an unschooled write. As my confidence grows, I seek professional feedback and am offered a mentorship, a valuable learning experience which I embrace for a couple of years and through which I become increasingly self-critical and rigorous, developing a greater succinctness in my work.  The journey continues…

SELECTED POEMS BY BONNEY BOMBACH
WATCH THIS SPACE! MUCH MORE WILL APPEAR IN DUE COURSE

THE SHARD

Glazed, yolk yellow
you startle from sand
no passport to declare

Your biting edges
tame now in my pocket,
sun slips behind hill
sea closer with each pulse

We head home,
safe landing for this refugee.

Bonney Bombach
2016


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A  LEANING LEARNING: for Peter Porter

And on another day
a meaning finds its place
from verbs and nouns and
syntax sewn with substance,
this madcap learning
leaning like Pisa’s tower
to leave us all 
in praise of Galileo

Bonney Bombach
2015
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ERSATZ

Like blood, dark, rich,
chords pulse direct
from speakers to veins.
The music dips and soars,
a roller-coaster of
gravitas and playfulness

Fingers fly over steering wheel
arching,  flexing,
my childhood  teacher smiles
over my shoulder

Right foot planted on accelerator,
its twin taps into the swing of things.
My head bobs and nods on
invisible strings,
lips and  tongue conspire,
sound-waves rush the windscreen

Driving with Bach spins me to elation,
I’m pianist, percussionist, a diva!

Bonney Bombach
2017

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