Wednesday, April 23, 2014

Poetic Asides Day 23

a location poem



Locatability

Google Maps pretends
I exist where that pink bubble is
when in fact I am here at my desk
writing a poem. Location: in
a real house, not a photo of one.

Google Maps tells people
to go along unsealed  tracks
and get bogged down (and dirty,
waiting for Roadside Assistance).
The real road is asphalted.

Don’t get me wrong: I love maps.
Each town is a dot, is a story.
Every road and street and court
is a conversation, a community
where I can discover poetry.

My brother who makes maps
for a living began to notice
location as a postman. Now
he creates it, in fold-up sheets.
Monochrome, useful to tourists.

We map my poetic journeys
together, and give them voices.
The tracks are often uncharted
but navigation is easy. We look
for real people in real country.

Poetic Asides Day 22



optimistic/pessimistic

For Adam and Eleni

It’s going to rain!
We don’t believe in omens.
A fine day to marry.

Poetic Asides Day 21



“back to basics”

Returning Outdoors

Autumn leans across the paths
and droops. Callistemons light up
the yard and bees fuss.

At last I collect seedlings
I actually plant them
I water them. And then it rains.

I’m sure there used to be sunshine.
I add worms bought from a store
to compost and beds.

Daylight scurries behind
sheets of cloud - diffuse,
corrugated or puffy-cheeked.

I forget to draw curtains against
the dark. Luckily the television
is brightly coloured, cheerful.

This season will bury itself
in Winter. Beetroots and kale
take root, take heart.




Monday, April 21, 2014

Poetic Asides Day 20



Day 20  a family poem

Getting to Know You

 The mother-in-law

It was the salty taste
of that pale green cucumber
that did it. We both
rolled the juicy slices
in our mouths, rolled our eyes
in appreciation.
A moment of healthy connection.

The father-in-law

The three chooks step gingerly
around their scratching ground,
the fence a testament to a man’s
view of DIY: just do it. Driving
buses might have ruined a back,
but not that sense of a man’s back yard
being his castle, farm and kingdom.

The daughter

I peered into the silver-striped
paper bag: not one but five
Lindt Excellence DARK
packs. “You know me well.
I’ll give these little gold-wrapped
eggs to your Nan.” “Oh no, Mum,
those are dark too. For you.”

Me

I find it remarkably easy
to get there without GPS
and to arrive home without
wrong turnings.  Somehow
the afternoon made sense.
I begin to make plans for
their visit, me as hostess.

Poetic Asides Days 18 & 19



Day 18  a weather poem

Easter - combined effort with NaPoWriMo prompt

It rained of course:
without force
a day of mourning
and remorse.

So Friday’s dawning
a timely warning -
but rejoice the source
on Sunday morning!


Day 19  a colour

Coral

Having unravelled my attachment
to a quirky gift – another basket
crafted from local twisted spike reed –
I took my budget and intention -
to play the game - to Myers’ Gift Registry.

It was the word: coral: that caught
my attention, and the medium: cotton
which claimed my willingness
to search among the ‘throws’
available for thirty percent off.

And there it was: striped with cream
ready to casually drape a back
of lounge or rocker, or to wrap
or swaddle … oops! that attachment
set aside too. Let’s get the wedding over!