Poem-A-Day 14 to 21 November

Prompts 14 to 21 all at once as I have been interstate without internet.

Prompt: a follow poem

On Setting Out On A Mission

One action follows another.

They both precede the third

and there you have a triangle

of performance.

I follow no-one but devise

irresistible conversations

to attract votes away from

the major parties.

To break the back of a world

become predictable, divorced

from what really matters to us

is mere possibility.

True, I speak without evidence.

You might invite me in to chat.

and if you are not home, I leave

my heart in your letterbox.

Prompt: “Holy _________”

On hearing The Lion Sleeps Tonight: holy harmony

While the carols rise and fall about

my head and ears, and I miss another

choir practice, you call us together,

your voice like a muezzin. To be

religious in that way is a score we’ve

never learned to read. Nevertheless,

at the Anglican school, your voice soars

like an angel’s, pure and exultant as it

leaves your throat and fills an auditorium

with its message: let song be raw

& sweet & wild, let the gift of life be a primal

glory you never need to profit from. Let

your whole body be a testament to love.

  

Prompt: be explanatory

On re-reading the first draft of my memoir

I never was going to be

that woman you wanted

to walk through brick walls

climb over considerations

as the world itself broke

across your knees.

I was far too gone with my own

script, and besides I was happy

to be the heroine in my own

drama. There really was no room

for You, The Other, Stranger,

and why you asserted we were

connected never made sense.

I would always want you to

deliver me from temptation.

  

Prompt: afflicted

On Ageing 

I dream of dancing wildly to Osibisa

turning into a sixty-five-year-old

banshee in a sedated community.

But my knees defy me, wincingly,

and there is this new sour taste

in my throat after eating sweet.

Prompt: Two for Tuesday: sour/sweet

On Eating Fruit For Breakfast in Sydney

Mango

They’ve been bred

to be less messy

toned down to be

“tasteful”. Still, each

suck on ripe flesh

is to reminisce

about those years

of living dangerously.

Apricots

Mouthfuls

of merciful simplicity.

So easy to slice.

Smooth-skinned

flesh, mellow

on the tongue,

kind to old teeth.

Bananas

Best eaten in threes.

Why? Beats me,

but there! The fork

an agent of sacrifice

while I complete

a crossword.

Prompt: an excuse

On Holding A Colleague To Account

You had to be there.

You weren’t. It was too hot

anyway. Anyway. Whatever.

Don’t tell me what to do.

You weren’t listening.

It wasn’t my fault.

It was because.

Prompt: “I’ll Never …..”

On Confronting A Possible Truth:

I’ll Never Finish That Memoir

And if so, bury all my papers

and computer with me

in a cemetery where other writers

lie. Where I can ask, “How

to finish de composition?”

breathlessly.

Prompt: pick a direction

On Travelling South By Train Not Plane

When she gets into her stride

she’s a real goer.

Trees blur, power lines race

to keep up, or

get there first.

Are we really in contact

with rails?

We are skimming the earth,

hunting

a timely destination, and

running late.

We shimmy around broad curves.

Sheep and horses

pay no attention. It is possible

we are travelling

faster than sight.