APAD 16 prompt: a death poem
Anzac Day Approaching
Of course we are grateful
for the difference they made
if only they would wake up
and hear us playing the Last
Post, over and over and over.
Responding to the call only
made them dead, not different
and not made a difference to.
One headline dares to speak:
War raged on in digger's head.
We call them diggers. This one
had to dig himself out of an
early grave from drinking
to drown out the replays.
No question of questioning
the battalions of death.
Let us create a First Post:
a bugle call to recognise no
difference between each of us
and this plant which has won
the competition for light
a duck in hunting season
that locust invasion. Let us
celebrate real transformation.
A Lifetime of being in and out of love for Melbourne
Chapter 4 1991-99
Brought my girl and boy to Elsternwick
loved the child care and travelling without
car. Shared three houses with great people
before the kids demanded independence.
Into a secure flat, roomy, in South Yarra
with gourmet pizzas, Melbourne High School
and parks. After that era, every place we lived
was less wonderful.
Brought my girl and boy to Melbourne
after the Fringe Festival work in Broome.
Worked everywhere in Victoria the first
four years, on a leash, always returning
with relief. Then to South Melbourne
daily, close to home, the other relief of
regular income, short trips home at night
a balcony garden.
My boy played saxophone and cricket
said he wanted to live in a High Rise
apartment in the CBD when he grew up.
I said to myself , "I want to work overseas."
My girl said, "I want to come too."
(As they do.) Anzac Day 2000 we landed
in Wellington, New Zealand. The boy
stayed put, boarding.