POEM-A-DAY APRIL 2012

Day 7 – 2 people interacting without speaking

He stands, hands in shorts pockets
breathing deeply. He raises his eyes
scans the sky, pokes his finger
into soil, studies the dry crumbs.

She steps down off the patio, pulls
at a dandelion. The stem breaks off,
roots stay, ready to sprout again.
She sighs, deeply. He smiles at her.

Plucks a wand of oregano, inhales,
holds it out. She waves the wand,
crushes some leaves, closes her eyes
as she breathes in, then sets them free.

Turning as one, they enter the house:
mother and Sunday visitor, her son.

APRIL POEM-A-DAY

Day 6 – hiding

Autumn brings …

Barely visible
amongst the bold
arms of oregano
parsley appears
from seed
I did not know
was there, all
summer.

POEM-A-DAY APRIL 2012

Day 5 – something before my time

Rusted
(after watching Australia: The Time Traveller’s Guide, Parts 1 & 2)

Red
the soil of my country
where lichens bled
and chemistry
turned sand
to iron, zinc, silver, lead.

Even now
saltbush claims
old ocean beds
and where I walk
I see an arid future
where the past
is spread.

Old land, old earth:
they say here
you can see the birth
of living forms
that thrived
where was a dearth
of oxygen and H2O
and all we deem has worth.

Is it dead?
Crossing by train
I feel a certain dread.
But in the mining town
let red soil run through my hands
and feel the heat
of living earth instead.

POEM-A-DAY APRIL 2012

Day 4 – 100% blank

Either Way

100% is all that I’ve got.
If you want any at all,
you must take the lot.

Or: you could consider
zero percent – all of that
is on offer, wherever it went.

It’s so hard to decide!
I totally agree. So take it all
and leave nothing with me.

POEM-A-DAY APRIL 2012

Day 3 – an apology or not

I’m sorry but you’re not welcome
you in your black shiny suit
strutting and scratching
as if you own this country.

Interloper, of complicated yet
pleasant song, alarmist
clucking at cats, I fall for it -
until you throw mulch across

my pebbled paths, leave it
for someone -me- to restore.
I prefer rosellas and wrens
the dashing honeyeater -

vibrant colours, tree-top high
fliers, telling me stories.
You bustle about, making a mess.
I’ve had enough: bye bye

blackbird!

POEM-A-DAY APRIL 2012

Day 2 – a visitor poem

I always know when she’s arrived
unannounced, slinky in her white fur
stepping like a model, conscious
of being beautiful, owed something.

It’s the racket others make
that gives her away. No open-mouthed
admiration for her, no flash
photography, no way! 

All she gets for her catwalk display
is a yard full of birds, like parents
anywhere, uttering urgent cries,
warnings, insults, expletives …

I throw gravel, hiss and slam doors.
She bolts, offended, through a gap
in the back fence. Possibly stalks
home. The birds begin a sweet twittering.

POEM-A-DAY APRIL 2012

Day 1 - a communication poem

He drops in unexpectedly.

To cheer me up? Keep me posted?

To tell me he and the missus

are doing just fine?

My heart skips as

in his jewelled blue suit

he bounces on the cream brick

paving, tail like a wagging finger.

I can't help myself:

Hullo Mr Wren! I call through

the window.

At which he hop-steps-and jumps

off human territory

onto the low branches of a gum tree.