Monday, April 14, 2014

Poetic Asides Days 11, 12 & 13

Day 11 A Statement

A nation built on immigration

Driving home
I catch the twinkling
eyes of stars.
They watch us
come and go
arrive and leave
slam doors
and greet with
open arms.
Distant enough
to remain detached
they do not call
our movement
“waves” or “escape”
nor our individual
selves “refugee”
“expatriate”, “migrant”
“asylum seeker”.
The stories do not
move the stars
to tears or rage.
They simply continue
to travel, as we do.

Day 12 a city poem

With the Best Intentions

The train belted along.
We were bundled into the city
with an urgency we didn’t need.

We strolled through laneways.
We could have eaten food from
a multitude of nations. We chose

gourmet Italian and had no time
for coffee. We needed to get somewhere.
We were meeting friends & strangers.

The city flung its glass tresses at
the cloudless sky, and left us in
darkness, down here at the feet

which were hard and hard-wearing.
We ached just with the strain of standing
and just had to sit, watch the parade

coffee at last driving blood through
elderly hearts and bloodlines, even
though we paid dearly for the day.

With an urgency we welcomed
we were propelled out of the city.
The train belted along

and we slept most of the journey home.

Day 13 an animal poem

A Conservation Corridor

Just out there, where the ferns
leave earth and reach into a mighty universe
if only they could break through
shade cloth,

and where the ground covers
were burnt on those forty-five degree and more
days to the colour of dung,
the mouse crosses.

Not always when I’m looking,
of course, so the thrill is greater catching
a brief glimpse. I know nothing about
real mice, whether

he or she lives alone, has bred like rabbits,
has found a niche in the slab
or created an empire under the deck
sealed off from cats.

Nondescript, yet I see “it” as “she”, making
a necessary journey across a pebbled
path, or boulders, if you are
small enough.

Otherwise, she lives a secret existence,
she’s a mystery; all I know is
the world alters slightly when
she crosses my path.


  1. Enjoying all your writings for both sets of prompts. I love particularly this mouse poem!