April Poem-A-Day Challenge Day 30
prompt: finished/never finished
It's only when I think
I'm doomed to die
tomorrow that I regret
the unfinished memoirs,
the poems never discovered
in others' conversations
the paper that clogs every
drawer, shelf, table top.
Luckily, my diagnoses
are refuted by the doctor
highly qualified and
unquestionably right.
I continue squirelling away
my precious impressions
against another
hungry-for-a-future day.
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
April Poem-A-Day Challenge Day 29
prompt: a line from a previous poem
Massive explosion
(after the collapse of a garment factory)
In a country of twenty-three million
how do we count twenty-five hundred
survivors, refugees from corporate
greed country? There are the dead
of course, almost twice as many
as we lost to fire that apocalyptic summer.
The numbers, the numbers, represent
families without food or water, without
a future. We are living in an era
of unimaginable explosive potential.
prompt: a line from a previous poem
Massive explosion
(after the collapse of a garment factory)
In a country of twenty-three million
how do we count twenty-five hundred
survivors, refugees from corporate
greed country? There are the dead
of course, almost twice as many
as we lost to fire that apocalyptic summer.
The numbers, the numbers, represent
families without food or water, without
a future. We are living in an era
of unimaginable explosive potential.
Sunday, April 28, 2013
April Poem-A-Day Challenge Day 26
prompt: casting
The Die is Cast
The wind has been
casting around
for a victim all day.
Meanwhile, cottonwool clouds
turn to fish-tails, grey.
I slap at what could be
a mosquito, too fast to see.
The garden tosses
its tresses. A haircut please?
I have to agree.
I feel myself sway.
I've been writing all day.
Tomorrow I'll submit
to secateur
and weedkiller spray.
There's so much to do
I'll be down on my knees.
The wind sighs and frets.
I'll come back next week, OK?
prompt: casting
The Die is Cast
The wind has been
casting around
for a victim all day.
Meanwhile, cottonwool clouds
turn to fish-tails, grey.
I slap at what could be
a mosquito, too fast to see.
The garden tosses
its tresses. A haircut please?
I have to agree.
I feel myself sway.
I've been writing all day.
Tomorrow I'll submit
to secateur
and weedkiller spray.
There's so much to do
I'll be down on my knees.
The wind sighs and frets.
I'll come back next week, OK?
Friday, April 26, 2013
April Poem-A-Day Challenge Day 25
prompt: "Everyone ..."
Everyone knows
Everyone knows that you cannot wear
blue with green. red with pink
and yet I match my outfits to avoid
the necessity to think
just as I write my poetry, with
an empty heartless mind
so do I churn out words, one rule:
to not be unkind
and dress with discovery, that rules
and eyes can be otherwise blind.
prompt: "Everyone ..."
Everyone knows
Everyone knows that you cannot wear
blue with green. red with pink
and yet I match my outfits to avoid
the necessity to think
just as I write my poetry, with
an empty heartless mind
so do I churn out words, one rule:
to not be unkind
and dress with discovery, that rules
and eyes can be otherwise blind.
Thursday, April 25, 2013
April Poem-A-Day Challenge Day 24
prompt: "auto"
Automatically, I want to write
Autumn, the season when, in
some countries, leaves
auto-destruct, bled of all green
and shed from trees like scurf.
This Autumn we remember
boys who were used as
automatons, with machinery
that ought not to have been
invented, since it resembles
the death rattle, and caused
the dead to rain, cold, upon
country now turned into
memorial green, or seemingly
untouched, under autobahns.
prompt: "auto"
Automatically, I want to write
Autumn, the season when, in
some countries, leaves
auto-destruct, bled of all green
and shed from trees like scurf.
This Autumn we remember
boys who were used as
automatons, with machinery
that ought not to have been
invented, since it resembles
the death rattle, and caused
the dead to rain, cold, upon
country now turned into
memorial green, or seemingly
untouched, under autobahns.
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
April Poem-A-Day Challenge Day 23
prompt: 2 for Tuesday - love/anti-love
How can you be anti-love?
It feels good, it bathes
the world in a new light.
Light up the world!
Feel good!
Love for trees, animals
other people, it's mysterious
a link with the sacred.
A sacred link!
Mysterious!
Some say there's not
enough of it in the world.
Glasses half empty.
Empty glass!
Room for more!
I say there is more than
enough to go round, but
some of us are greedy.
Take more!
More than you need!
Love is found in niche
and crevice, in the dark
and in the wilderness.
Do not carry a gun!
Wear your heart on your sleeve!
prompt: 2 for Tuesday - love/anti-love
How can you be anti-love?
It feels good, it bathes
the world in a new light.
Light up the world!
Feel good!
Love for trees, animals
other people, it's mysterious
a link with the sacred.
A sacred link!
Mysterious!
Some say there's not
enough of it in the world.
Glasses half empty.
Empty glass!
Room for more!
I say there is more than
enough to go round, but
some of us are greedy.
Take more!
More than you need!
Love is found in niche
and crevice, in the dark
and in the wilderness.
Do not carry a gun!
Wear your heart on your sleeve!
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Sunday, April 21, 2013
April Poem-A-Day Challenge Day 20
prompt: a "beyond" poem
A mystery
this "Goldilocks zone"
around suns - too hot? No.
broken? No. In someone
else's bed? Unlikely.
And yet three planets
discovered loitering
there, the possibility
of water, rock and life
alive and real.
Two thousand or more
light years away, it's
a moot point whether
anyone will ever
invade their Space.
Unless the story
of three bears and an
intruder is streaming
via cloud and dust
like golden hair.
prompt: a "beyond" poem
A mystery
this "Goldilocks zone"
around suns - too hot? No.
broken? No. In someone
else's bed? Unlikely.
And yet three planets
discovered loitering
there, the possibility
of water, rock and life
alive and real.
Two thousand or more
light years away, it's
a moot point whether
anyone will ever
invade their Space.
Unless the story
of three bears and an
intruder is streaming
via cloud and dust
like golden hair.
Saturday, April 20, 2013
April Poem-A-Day Challenge Day 19
prompt: "burn"
Getting burnt out
It's a job that scars you
every time
the boiling oils and fats
reach out
for you
from the vats.
Working
the night shift
you can hide
the evidence
and insist
it's better
than nothing.
I must save
you mutter
before sleep and after
having counted
the scars
like accolades
or stepping stones
to the stars.
prompt: "burn"
Getting burnt out
It's a job that scars you
every time
the boiling oils and fats
reach out
for you
from the vats.
Working
the night shift
you can hide
the evidence
and insist
it's better
than nothing.
I must save
you mutter
before sleep and after
having counted
the scars
like accolades
or stepping stones
to the stars.
Friday, April 19, 2013
April Poem-A-Day Challenge Day 18
prompt: I am ...
I am the woman
from over the river
who in 1958 had no idea
there would be
Cummeragunja girls
singing soul, living it,
in Vietnam for the troops.
I may well have played
with them - volleyball
not music.
A reference to the film "The Sapphires"
which I watched today on the IPad
provided by the airline in our 767-333
flight from Perth to Melbourne.
prompt: I am ...
I am the woman
from over the river
who in 1958 had no idea
there would be
Cummeragunja girls
singing soul, living it,
in Vietnam for the troops.
I may well have played
with them - volleyball
not music.
A reference to the film "The Sapphires"
which I watched today on the IPad
provided by the airline in our 767-333
flight from Perth to Melbourne.
April Poem-A-Day Challenge Day 17
prompt: an express poem
The coffee in Perth
costs more and
tastes worse
than in Melbourne.
Even the coffee
served with breakfast
on our Qantas flight
tastes better.
The people of Perth
clearly express
themselves more
artistically in other
media. Each day
I pass the park
backpackers use
as a living room,
watching news
and concerts
on a massive screen.
While in the cafe
diagonally opposite
the ceiling is art
the coffee
bitter, bankrupt.
prompt: an express poem
The coffee in Perth
costs more and
tastes worse
than in Melbourne.
Even the coffee
served with breakfast
on our Qantas flight
tastes better.
The people of Perth
clearly express
themselves more
artistically in other
media. Each day
I pass the park
backpackers use
as a living room,
watching news
and concerts
on a massive screen.
While in the cafe
diagonally opposite
the ceiling is art
the coffee
bitter, bankrupt.
April Poem-A-Day Challenge Day 16
prompt: 2 for Tuesday - possible/impossible
These buttressed Moreton Bay Fig trees
in Russell Square park, Northbridge,
Perth, Western Australia, appear to
perform an impossible balancing act,
their limbs so long and unmoved by
currents of air, fashion, change.
Their presence is gripping; the pavement
is littered with fallen fruit, seeds
finding nothing in which to grow.
I imagine great carved roots underground
creating the possibility of pure balance.
I see that people prefer open spaces.
prompt: 2 for Tuesday - possible/impossible
These buttressed Moreton Bay Fig trees
in Russell Square park, Northbridge,
Perth, Western Australia, appear to
perform an impossible balancing act,
their limbs so long and unmoved by
currents of air, fashion, change.
Their presence is gripping; the pavement
is littered with fallen fruit, seeds
finding nothing in which to grow.
I imagine great carved roots underground
creating the possibility of pure balance.
I see that people prefer open spaces.
April Poem-A-Day Challenge Day 15
prompt: an infested poem
Ants break speed limits
before rain, moving
a nursery. Out of the way!
Move! Long live the queen!
Hanging washing on the line
I must dance and stamp, for
deterrence, my own version
of territoriality, upper hand.
Too bad, they say. Life
is urgent. Get out of the way!
How many communities
occupy this block with me?
No use to petition the queen;
she's too busy with parturition.
Carried along by the army's will,
she is deaf to all pleas.
Washing hung, I retreat
Rain washes all thoughts
of retribution away. I hope
their young thrive.
prompt: an infested poem
Ants break speed limits
before rain, moving
a nursery. Out of the way!
Move! Long live the queen!
Hanging washing on the line
I must dance and stamp, for
deterrence, my own version
of territoriality, upper hand.
Too bad, they say. Life
is urgent. Get out of the way!
How many communities
occupy this block with me?
No use to petition the queen;
she's too busy with parturition.
Carried along by the army's will,
she is deaf to all pleas.
Washing hung, I retreat
Rain washes all thoughts
of retribution away. I hope
their young thrive.
I've been working (in my paid job) in Perth for the week and the poetic spirit apparently flew off sightseeing. Not me, however; I was in the office or in an apartment watching TV.
So now: back to April Poem-A-Day Challenge.
Day 14
prompt: a sonnet
NEWSREEL
A wall falls:
random deaths
Bomb on marathon
Last breaths.
Freedom to shoot
a clear shibboleth.
Popular Aussie
a paedophile
Massive explosion
from stockpile
Rogue state
threatens missile.
Take note, Macbeth.
Admire the
twenty-first century
style!
So now: back to April Poem-A-Day Challenge.
Day 14
prompt: a sonnet
NEWSREEL
A wall falls:
random deaths
Bomb on marathon
Last breaths.
Freedom to shoot
a clear shibboleth.
Popular Aussie
a paedophile
Massive explosion
from stockpile
Rogue state
threatens missile.
Take note, Macbeth.
Admire the
twenty-first century
style!
Sunday, April 14, 2013
Day 13 April Poem-A-Day Challenge
prompt: a comparison poem
The public image is
efficient, brisk, youthful.
The drink machines
care not. According
to Mikaela, they make
mistakes: too much ice
or only one cube, two
cups of the same drink
on one drive-through
order, so the second one
is thrown away.
She is good-humoured
about these annoying habits
of Maccas' mischievous
machines. She speaks
with high energy, and
uncharacteristically
vivacious hand movements.
I on the other hand
must turn such facts
of life into a quiet poem
and when I told her so
we laughed together.
prompt: a comparison poem
The public image is
efficient, brisk, youthful.
The drink machines
care not. According
to Mikaela, they make
mistakes: too much ice
or only one cube, two
cups of the same drink
on one drive-through
order, so the second one
is thrown away.
She is good-humoured
about these annoying habits
of Maccas' mischievous
machines. She speaks
with high energy, and
uncharacteristically
vivacious hand movements.
I on the other hand
must turn such facts
of life into a quiet poem
and when I told her so
we laughed together.
Friday, April 12, 2013
Poem-A-Day April Challenge Day 12
prompt: a "broke" poem
They throw the tents away!
Now he is on a mission
to house the homeless, say.
What is broken there?
Severed? Crumbled? Awry?
Irreparable? Unfair?
And who is he to say?
To house the homeless, on
a mission, give the game away?
New possibilities connect
the synapses in new ways.
He's on a mission, to give
those tents away!
prompt: a "broke" poem
They throw the tents away!
Now he is on a mission
to house the homeless, say.
What is broken there?
Severed? Crumbled? Awry?
Irreparable? Unfair?
And who is he to say?
To house the homeless, on
a mission, give the game away?
New possibilities connect
the synapses in new ways.
He's on a mission, to give
those tents away!
Poem-A-Day Challenge Day 11
prompt: in case of ...
For My Mother
In case of forgetting,
put balance back,
once you are upright
again, and have
forgiven the brandy
glass for shattering
on the tiles, not on
the carpet. Maybe
you are just clumsy
or perhaps the Earth
did one of those funny
tilts on its axis we saw
on TV last night. In case of
wobbling, don't fall, just
right yourself as
the Earth does
and put balance back.
prompt: in case of ...
For My Mother
In case of forgetting,
put balance back,
once you are upright
again, and have
forgiven the brandy
glass for shattering
on the tiles, not on
the carpet. Maybe
you are just clumsy
or perhaps the Earth
did one of those funny
tilts on its axis we saw
on TV last night. In case of
wobbling, don't fall, just
right yourself as
the Earth does
and put balance back.
Thursday, April 11, 2013
Is it already Day 10?
prompt: a suffering poem
Oh, I am the poem of sorrow.
I represent all the misunderstood
of this world. Is there
anyone I have left out?
Oh, I am the poem of despair.
My words appear meaningless
on the page, and in the air
as they fly about.
Oh, I am the poem of intense pain.
I notify you of new infections
of the heart, the nowhere,
and rampant self-doubt.
Yes, I am the incurable poem, always
moaning and whining through
lines that never dare
to speak straight, or even shout.
prompt: a suffering poem
Oh, I am the poem of sorrow.
I represent all the misunderstood
of this world. Is there
anyone I have left out?
Oh, I am the poem of despair.
My words appear meaningless
on the page, and in the air
as they fly about.
Oh, I am the poem of intense pain.
I notify you of new infections
of the heart, the nowhere,
and rampant self-doubt.
Yes, I am the incurable poem, always
moaning and whining through
lines that never dare
to speak straight, or even shout.
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
Day 9 April Poetry Month Poem-A-Day
prompt: a hunter/hunted poem
He hunts answers.
They call to him
from forest undergrowth.
It is not that they want
to attract his notice
but they cannot help
chittering among themselves
sorting out who sleeps
with whom, who spends
the time as sentry.
Thus they see him coming
and set out to distract.
They are the answers, so
respond only to questions.
prompt: a hunter/hunted poem
He hunts answers.
They call to him
from forest undergrowth.
It is not that they want
to attract his notice
but they cannot help
chittering among themselves
sorting out who sleeps
with whom, who spends
the time as sentry.
Thus they see him coming
and set out to distract.
They are the answers, so
respond only to questions.
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
Poem-A-Day Challenge, Day 8
prompt: an instructional poem
How do I write it?
The students always ask.
Treat it like a sport, I say.
It's more a game than task.
The rules are pretty easy:
just exercise your hand
don't worry about your spelling
or if others will understand.
The playing field is huge.
With room for great improvement.
Just practise on your paper gym
to master each new movement.
A team or individual
can reach incredible scores
a champion practises practising
indoor, or outdoors.
You set yourself a goal each time
one to make you stretch
and so you limber up your mind
and leave a new world etched
on paper for the reader
to umpire or to cheer
and that is how you write it.
Show me now you're clear.
They write with sporting spirit
it's such surprising fun.
They win because they write so fast
their worries are outrun.
And now they say to teachers
Just tell me when to start
and I will write a poem for you
as fast as it is smart!
prompt: an instructional poem
How do I write it?
The students always ask.
Treat it like a sport, I say.
It's more a game than task.
The rules are pretty easy:
just exercise your hand
don't worry about your spelling
or if others will understand.
The playing field is huge.
With room for great improvement.
Just practise on your paper gym
to master each new movement.
A team or individual
can reach incredible scores
a champion practises practising
indoor, or outdoors.
You set yourself a goal each time
one to make you stretch
and so you limber up your mind
and leave a new world etched
on paper for the reader
to umpire or to cheer
and that is how you write it.
Show me now you're clear.
They write with sporting spirit
it's such surprising fun.
They win because they write so fast
their worries are outrun.
And now they say to teachers
Just tell me when to start
and I will write a poem for you
as fast as it is smart!
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Poem-A-Day challenge Day 6
prompt: a post poem
When My Sister Visits
My sister's dog, Jill,
knows she is brought here
to be posted on blackbird
and boundary duty.
Her sturdy short legs
march smartly from
one back door to another
and at times she sees action.
Mostly, however, the canny
birds know to stay away
and cats, getting a whiff
of dog, pretend they never
intended to come anywhere
near this yard. She is
a kind little dog, and sniffs
but does not pee on
anything I value such as
underpants on a clothes horse.
And every so often she takes
time off to come inside.
Jill, came to my sister
terrified from the RSPCA.
Now she is at home, knowing
her posting is permanent.
prompt: a post poem
When My Sister Visits
My sister's dog, Jill,
knows she is brought here
to be posted on blackbird
and boundary duty.
Her sturdy short legs
march smartly from
one back door to another
and at times she sees action.
Mostly, however, the canny
birds know to stay away
and cats, getting a whiff
of dog, pretend they never
intended to come anywhere
near this yard. She is
a kind little dog, and sniffs
but does not pee on
anything I value such as
underpants on a clothes horse.
And every so often she takes
time off to come inside.
Jill, came to my sister
terrified from the RSPCA.
Now she is at home, knowing
her posting is permanent.
Saturday, April 6, 2013
Day 5 ... no idea what to write yet ...
prompt: a plus poem
Warm air rising (27 degrees in my town today)
plus atmospheric receptivity makes grey clouds
bulge from a brilliant blue sky. Just the right
amount of condensation plus unknown factors
of air movement, and the whole cloud cracks
and breaks open and we have a flash flood
right here in our back yard, and a waterfall
off the roof that's meant to feed a steady stream
into the second tank.
To be frank, it is hard to hear myself think.
That plus the gloomy light, and this the last
day of daylight saving, plus the heat that
preceded and provoked this storm makes me
happy I brought sheets and clothes in off
the line, just in time, and can sit typing.
prompt: a plus poem
Warm air rising (27 degrees in my town today)
plus atmospheric receptivity makes grey clouds
bulge from a brilliant blue sky. Just the right
amount of condensation plus unknown factors
of air movement, and the whole cloud cracks
and breaks open and we have a flash flood
right here in our back yard, and a waterfall
off the roof that's meant to feed a steady stream
into the second tank.
To be frank, it is hard to hear myself think.
That plus the gloomy light, and this the last
day of daylight saving, plus the heat that
preceded and provoked this storm makes me
happy I brought sheets and clothes in off
the line, just in time, and can sit typing.
Friday, April 5, 2013
Day 4 - Having to come up with something on the spur of the moment is like skiing - you never know what's around the corner or down the slope!
prompt: "Hold that ..."
Shots
Hold that camera steady!
Is your focus
clear and present
as the future will demand
of you, recorder and creator
of the past?
With three deaths in the past
month, you must arrange
words as a camera cannot,
leaving a picture imprinted
on every retina.
Great people died: parents,
community leaders, people
with big hearts whose lives
would make extraordinary
movies.
Your camera pans across
generations. Left or right
wing, it matters not.
Their mark was made
and we the inheritors
live the futures
they envisioned.
Hold that camera steady!
The memories depend on you.
prompt: "Hold that ..."
Shots
Hold that camera steady!
Is your focus
clear and present
as the future will demand
of you, recorder and creator
of the past?
With three deaths in the past
month, you must arrange
words as a camera cannot,
leaving a picture imprinted
on every retina.
Great people died: parents,
community leaders, people
with big hearts whose lives
would make extraordinary
movies.
Your camera pans across
generations. Left or right
wing, it matters not.
Their mark was made
and we the inheritors
live the futures
they envisioned.
Hold that camera steady!
The memories depend on you.
Thursday, April 4, 2013
Day 3 of the Writers Digest Poem-A-Day challenge ...
prompt: a tentative poem
View from my home office window
One fern frond virtually flaps
at the wind's transgression.
One bounces slightly, as if
it's not sure a breeze is passing.
The third moves so cautiously
I think it is resisting reacting to mere air.
But then, I'm not so sure.
prompt: a tentative poem
View from my home office window
One fern frond virtually flaps
at the wind's transgression.
One bounces slightly, as if
it's not sure a breeze is passing.
The third moves so cautiously
I think it is resisting reacting to mere air.
But then, I'm not so sure.
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
prompt: a bright poem/a dark poem
The end days
of official summer time
ordained by some unknown god
in a fluoro office
make seven am seem
like midnight
and why do I have to
get up?
The world is bird-less
at that hour, and cats
prowl on the edge
of vision. I feel my way
blindly.
Next Sunday, next Sunday,
I tell my wrinkled mind,
tired body, seven o'clock
will become its real self
again - six am, six pm.
While I'm writing, the sky
brightens.
The end days
of official summer time
ordained by some unknown god
in a fluoro office
make seven am seem
like midnight
and why do I have to
get up?
The world is bird-less
at that hour, and cats
prowl on the edge
of vision. I feel my way
blindly.
Next Sunday, next Sunday,
I tell my wrinkled mind,
tired body, seven o'clock
will become its real self
again - six am, six pm.
While I'm writing, the sky
brightens.
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
Today is the first (belated) day of April Poem-A-Day Month!! Yay!
Prompt: a new arrival poem
Something must have hatched
something edible.
They came here in several
small groups,
hopped, pecked and scratched.
All dressed neatly in their black
gleaming, tailored:
Was this a tribal gathering, or
random families
hearing the news, seeking a snack?
Just the one day, on my patch
they came ransacking.
No time for flight, or fighting -.
for those blackbirds
something hatched: a good day's catch.
Prompt: a new arrival poem
Something must have hatched
something edible.
They came here in several
small groups,
hopped, pecked and scratched.
All dressed neatly in their black
gleaming, tailored:
Was this a tribal gathering, or
random families
hearing the news, seeking a snack?
Just the one day, on my patch
they came ransacking.
No time for flight, or fighting -.
for those blackbirds
something hatched: a good day's catch.
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