Moran's spoken word takes you on a journey, evoking a sensory journey through our intimate entanglement with earth, the universe, and everything.
experience poetry...
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ORDER NOW
ENSPIRALLED - A SOUL'S BREATH POETRY COLLECTION I am over the moon to announce that pre-orders for my debut poetry collection are available now! The book is released into the world June 2026. enspiralled - a soul’s breath sparkles with an earthly mysticism. This poetry collection is a pilgrimage through the moss whispers and myrtle spirits of Lutruwita/Tasmania and Patagonia de Chile, as Moran follows the yearning of an infinite soul to find home here, amongst this exact moment. These are the kind of poems which beg us to sing to mountains, pray to stars, and to remember. |
a selection of poems
copyright Moran Wiesel 2026
copyright Moran Wiesel 2026
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"Pin Prickles of Icicles", performed with the snow gums of Mt Field.
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"Beneath Grandmother Arrayan Tree", performed at the Woodford Folk Festival '24-25. Moran was joined by Tim Devereux on the yidaki.
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I WONDER IF MY MOTHER IS A MYRTLE TREE
I wonder if my mother is a myrtle tree
the way she wraps her layers of leaves around my softened form and holds my dreams gently
as if to say
however you land here today
is ok in my eyes
you will always be welcome
to come and rest your weary head in these bundles of branches
that curve around your thrumming heart just so
and while you rest I will play
a deep lullaby of the stars for you
so when you wake
it is with the peaceful knowing of home pulsing in your veins
I think it is the way she whispers these things to me
in such simple gladness
that makes me wonder whether my mother is, in fact, a myrtle tree
the way she wraps her layers of leaves around my softened form and holds my dreams gently
as if to say
however you land here today
is ok in my eyes
you will always be welcome
to come and rest your weary head in these bundles of branches
that curve around your thrumming heart just so
and while you rest I will play
a deep lullaby of the stars for you
so when you wake
it is with the peaceful knowing of home pulsing in your veins
I think it is the way she whispers these things to me
in such simple gladness
that makes me wonder whether my mother is, in fact, a myrtle tree
serenity
serenity
mostly the wind whispers to me of small things
but sometimes,
when the stars dance as if tomorrow
were a million miles away
I hear the gentle gust of serenity knocking
asking for my joy
(first published in Quicksilver Water: The Oasis Women's Anthology).
mostly the wind whispers to me of small things
but sometimes,
when the stars dance as if tomorrow
were a million miles away
I hear the gentle gust of serenity knocking
asking for my joy
(first published in Quicksilver Water: The Oasis Women's Anthology).
experience stories...
As a storyteller, I listen to the whisperings through the cracks of land... what tales are the dolerite mountains willing to share?
I live, work, and play on the stolen lands of the muwinina/palawa/pakana peoples in nipaluna, lutruwita/truwanna (so-called Hobart, Tasmania). I acknowledge that genocide is ongoing, and sovereignty has never been ceded. I acknowledge the sacredness of this land, and pay deepest respects to the past, present, and emerging custodians of these lands and waters. Always was, always will be, Aboriginal land.
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