November Poem-A-Day Challenge

Prompt 23: a travel poem

... the urge for going ...

Dark waiting time
car park almost empty
the moon a bold slash
on black and the train
somewhere going
clackety-clack-clack.

Early or late, it is
my chariot to escape on
cross the country, sleep on,
be rocked and jolted
out of the myth there's
always something, someone
to keep a hold on.

I am crossing deserts again,
recording with camera
and pen, waiting for murder,
romance, the return
of an era when seats were
leather, numbers in brass.
Ah! To travel First Class.

Dark waiting time
headlights on rails
no side tracks or
trails, and brakes
wail. Here she comes!
My daughter, daily
traveller. Home. Safe.

Prompt 24: a gathering poem

The Fate of Art

The launching was a splendid affair.
So many landscapes, many watercolours,
a dearth of alternative media, but ...
"Lovely!" "Found in an Op Shop!
No! Twenty dollars! Shame."
"What were they thinking?"
"Not thinking, obviously." "But now -
look! This one's gorgeous." 
The wine flowed, little works of edible
art, platters of pumped-up fruit,
painted intestinal interiors unfortunately
never able to be hung, shown, sold
and bought in Op Shop or gallery.


Prompt 25: a consumption poem

The Poet Dines

Yes, I'm eating my words.
Boiled, fried, roasted or raw
they taste better with herbs
from my own garden: oregano
(roll that on the tongue ... mmm)
rosemary, mint (sharp!), parsley
(do I mean parsleymonious?)
Now I burp: ah yes, all hot air
and regurgitated ideas. In future,
I'll diet, strictly, on commas
and brackets. Or sentence myself
to eating real food in restaurants.




Prompt 26: a "good old days" poem

History Lesson


There goes the school bus.
Three of them! Full!
I'd hate to drive one.
Me too. Silence.

When I travelled to school
by bus, I used to sit up front
next to the driver.
Did you, Mum? (spoken kindly)
Yes! (undaunted) And the two boys
who had a crush on me
sat behind the driver.
Laughter. Silence.

Of course, the boy I had
a crush on ,,,
Didn't have a crush on you, Mum?
(Knowingly)
Of course. He was in Form Four.
I was only in Form Two.
What does that mean?

What do you call your fourth year
in secondary school? (only slightly
irritated)
Oh. Year 10.
Exactly. (Perhaps she doesn't
believe I was ever that young)

Anyway one of the boys
who did have a crush on me
is dead now. Had a massive heart attack
not long after the last school reunion.
Aw. Mum. (Kindly) Silence.