30. prompt: "lessons learned (or not)"
they came through a time of great upheaval
oceans rose and fell around them
they stood at the bow, stoic
they left behind a great war
they were catapulted from a new world too small
to contain them
they came when the delusions of security
broke down, when romance produced disbelief
and the families of money made of coal
and slaves turned land into "resource"
they came with eyes blinded by others' greed
they landed and lost themselves
looking for what they knew
their cries of love echoed along the wharves
their tears of frustration were found pearled along high tide lines
they cut their hair and invented trades
this was the era before careers and superannuation
pulled the masses of all classes into line
they sang the old songs
and they never lost the accents of their region
they were eldest children, too grown up now
to mind the tribe behind
but later, some of the younger set followed
they set sail on their once-in-a-lifetime journey
round the world without a lifeboat
they found themselves equally dispossessed, landless
hungry and haunted
they left behind them a legacy
of mince and tatie stew
bairns who obeyed the poetry
of "dinna fash yerself, lassie"
some carpentry, a broken complete works
of Rabbie Burns and a beautiful drawing
of Beethoven, that master of power
in the face of sensual deprivation
their grandchildren get seasick taking ferries to nearby islands
for the photographic opportunities and the sheer pleasure
of finding a new world too small to live in
but large enough to fulfil their promise to themselves
to walk thirty minutes daily, for health
Showing posts with label November Chapbook Challenge. Show all posts
Showing posts with label November Chapbook Challenge. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Being Over It
29. prompt: "next steps"
Her next step will be to bind and burn.
It's a jungle out there.
You can't see the wood for the trees.
And that's just in her own back yard!
The step after that will be to buy and bring home
tame plants, ones that know their place.
She hopes to con the couch grass
into submission, or at least denial.
And while she's thankful it didn't rain
cats and dogs, she would have liked
the deluge to bring frogs and lizards
two by two to eat the excited snails.
The next step is to create a clearing
right there where the leucodendrons refuse
to grow up, or even out! Let them be taunted
by her brightly-coloured whirling skirts.
And let the boy over the fence wish
he'd never driven her stir crazy with his Friday nights
of rap and Rolling Stones
as she pushes back against that throbbing wall.
Her next step will be to bind and burn.
It's a jungle out there.
You can't see the wood for the trees.
And that's just in her own back yard!
The step after that will be to buy and bring home
tame plants, ones that know their place.
She hopes to con the couch grass
into submission, or at least denial.
And while she's thankful it didn't rain
cats and dogs, she would have liked
the deluge to bring frogs and lizards
two by two to eat the excited snails.
The next step is to create a clearing
right there where the leucodendrons refuse
to grow up, or even out! Let them be taunted
by her brightly-coloured whirling skirts.
And let the boy over the fence wish
he'd never driven her stir crazy with his Friday nights
of rap and Rolling Stones
as she pushes back against that throbbing wall.
A Lot Happened You just didn't want to talk about it*
28. prompt: "what really happened"
In those days
we always said
"Nothing" in that tone
you use to tell your parent
they couldn't possibly guess
and had better not try.
Then there was a retribution
which made you all the more
clear it didn't matter
what you always said
in those days.
(*this, of course, was before celebritisation
and bloggery)
In those days
we always said
"Nothing" in that tone
you use to tell your parent
they couldn't possibly guess
and had better not try.
Then there was a retribution
which made you all the more
clear it didn't matter
what you always said
in those days.
(*this, of course, was before celebritisation
and bloggery)
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Blame the System
27. prompt: "blame the ..."
Everyone looks for the real reason
why the votes favoured one person
over another as if there is a reason
out there built into a party or person.
Why not say there was no real reason
only the thinking of the various people
who came up with as many reasons
as in this state there are people.
(*we had a state election on Saturday
in a country where everyone votes, by law)
Everyone looks for the real reason
why the votes favoured one person
over another as if there is a reason
out there built into a party or person.
Why not say there was no real reason
only the thinking of the various people
who came up with as many reasons
as in this state there are people.
(*we had a state election on Saturday
in a country where everyone votes, by law)
Spring Cleaning
26. Prompt: "on the run"
You can't go white water rafting
that brown is fifteen years of drying out
lifted and washed away by torrents
in a hurry to empty into a larger body.
She sends a text: check out the rivers
today and take your camera. Amazing.
On the train she marvels at a land
dotted with lakes, impassable tracks.
Returning, sees how river water storms
and surges, swirls and swamps, on the run
from all that has given it being: a ripe
cloud spiralling south from the Tropics.
You can't go white water rafting
that brown is fifteen years of drying out
lifted and washed away by torrents
in a hurry to empty into a larger body.
She sends a text: check out the rivers
today and take your camera. Amazing.
On the train she marvels at a land
dotted with lakes, impassable tracks.
Returning, sees how river water storms
and surges, swirls and swamps, on the run
from all that has given it being: a ripe
cloud spiralling south from the Tropics.
Friday, November 26, 2010
Micro Cosmo
25. prompt: include an animal
Galenia being a weed
they stomp on it: bouncy!
springy! good for something
then! standing still a moment
they notice the tiny webs -
an underworld, a spider city
every lacy safety net
sparkling with today's
catch: mist and dew.
Galenia being a weed
they stomp on it: bouncy!
springy! good for something
then! standing still a moment
they notice the tiny webs -
an underworld, a spider city
every lacy safety net
sparkling with today's
catch: mist and dew.
Gold
24. Prompt: a spaces poem
The sun decides to contribute
light in a darkened world.
The rain-heavy cloud bolts
eastward; the sun comes out
low down in the west, spreads
itself into a blue-cream-and-pink sky.
Side-mirrors catch the light
and drivers steer half-blind.
Blades of sunshine bring out
rich greens and reds, unfurl
a mat of gold on cloud's
underbelly. Aeroplanes are
flying low, intimidated by a sky
textured and dazzling. The three
rainbows are no match
for this freely available treasure.
The sun decides to contribute
light in a darkened world.
The rain-heavy cloud bolts
eastward; the sun comes out
low down in the west, spreads
itself into a blue-cream-and-pink sky.
Side-mirrors catch the light
and drivers steer half-blind.
Blades of sunshine bring out
rich greens and reds, unfurl
a mat of gold on cloud's
underbelly. Aeroplanes are
flying low, intimidated by a sky
textured and dazzling. The three
rainbows are no match
for this freely available treasure.
Driving to Watergardens For Curtains At Dusk After a Storm
23. prompt: use a poetic form
(this is the cascade form, naturally enough)
Melton is awash
water sits beside the road
nowhere else to go.
Melton is sodden
the streets hiss at fast tyres
Melton is awash.
All along the highway
narrow cascades topple into drains
water sits beside the road.
Kororoit Creek runs a banker
10-acre property driveways are lakes
nowhere else to go.
(this is the cascade form, naturally enough)
Melton is awash
water sits beside the road
nowhere else to go.
Melton is sodden
the streets hiss at fast tyres
Melton is awash.
All along the highway
narrow cascades topple into drains
water sits beside the road.
Kororoit Creek runs a banker
10-acre property driveways are lakes
nowhere else to go.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Conversation With The Basket Weaver
22. prompt: a poem that takes a stand
You have such big ideas! she says.
The Woman of Imagination smiles
down the phone. There's more room
for success then, she says. When
you think small, it's a cramped space.
They will make a dome or tepee
a nest or coracle. Why? Because
they both stand for creative process
preferably that which involves much
sitting. They have already woven that in.
You have such big ideas! she says.
The Woman of Imagination smiles
down the phone. There's more room
for success then, she says. When
you think small, it's a cramped space.
They will make a dome or tepee
a nest or coracle. Why? Because
they both stand for creative process
preferably that which involves much
sitting. They have already woven that in.
Mammogram
21. prompt: a permission poem
It's a new machine
which possibly explains
the crushing pain.
The novice calls the boss in.
Let's just try that again.
Relax, she says with a grin.
The body gives up resisting.
Permission given when
her patient can tell she's listening.
It's a new machine
which possibly explains
the crushing pain.
The novice calls the boss in.
Let's just try that again.
Relax, she says with a grin.
The body gives up resisting.
Permission given when
her patient can tell she's listening.
Monday, November 22, 2010
She'll Be Right, Mate (1) and (2)
20. prompt: what's wrong or right
(1)
To hear this said reassures
when optimism then endures.
But when it's uttered, without action,
you know it's false hope, without traction.
(2)
Out of the mouths of blokes these words
as thoughtless as the flight of homing birds.
The Aussie lingo is a domain apart
and often used to show off, outsmart.
While women use the plainer tongue
not quite as useful when things go bung.
(1)
To hear this said reassures
when optimism then endures.
But when it's uttered, without action,
you know it's false hope, without traction.
(2)
Out of the mouths of blokes these words
as thoughtless as the flight of homing birds.
The Aussie lingo is a domain apart
and often used to show off, outsmart.
While women use the plainer tongue
not quite as useful when things go bung.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
It's Not All In The Name
19. prompt: a poem with a hole in it
Jo calls it the Purple Tea Pot
in her typed Schedule of Walks
and Meeting Points.
As they meet again for dinner
at the golf club, they laugh.
"Flying Teapot, not Purple!"
The coffee was not as good
says Ed, as the coffee AND
the donut at Donut King.
You're kidding! say the more
sophisticated members, eyes
crinkled like crumble slices.
And what about the Seniors'
Discount! Ed challenges.
At least two people get the point.
But what has money got to do
with anything? They're not just
Walkers, but Talkers,
sharing life matters while
the coffee cools, and issues
are chewed over slowly.
Jo calls it the Purple Tea Pot
in her typed Schedule of Walks
and Meeting Points.
As they meet again for dinner
at the golf club, they laugh.
"Flying Teapot, not Purple!"
The coffee was not as good
says Ed, as the coffee AND
the donut at Donut King.
You're kidding! say the more
sophisticated members, eyes
crinkled like crumble slices.
And what about the Seniors'
Discount! Ed challenges.
At least two people get the point.
But what has money got to do
with anything? They're not just
Walkers, but Talkers,
sharing life matters while
the coffee cools, and issues
are chewed over slowly.
All Patched Up
18. prompt: lost and found
As they walk the main street
of the old town, central Victoria
settling in to a late Spring,
they come to the Masonic Hall
closed for decades, the plate
missing from high on the gable
its shadow visible, in fact distinct.
A team of carpenters stop
to answer their questions.
Wherever possible, they keep
the old structure; only the pine floor
in the large room was full of borer,
the smaller room's floor still shines -
"beautiful hardwood" says the builder.
They are allowed to enter, explore.
And realise nothing of the past
conversations, names, rituals
remain. The secret men's business
is as if extinct. But wait: women
are coming, filling this place of lost
meaning with fabric and design.
They will create their beautiful quilts
stitching together with quarters
and machined thread the stories
that haven't yet been told, the missions
that went uncelebrated, the work
and the worlds of understanding
unspoken while the men met.
As they walk the main street
of the old town, central Victoria
settling in to a late Spring,
they come to the Masonic Hall
closed for decades, the plate
missing from high on the gable
its shadow visible, in fact distinct.
A team of carpenters stop
to answer their questions.
Wherever possible, they keep
the old structure; only the pine floor
in the large room was full of borer,
the smaller room's floor still shines -
"beautiful hardwood" says the builder.
They are allowed to enter, explore.
And realise nothing of the past
conversations, names, rituals
remain. The secret men's business
is as if extinct. But wait: women
are coming, filling this place of lost
meaning with fabric and design.
They will create their beautiful quilts
stitching together with quarters
and machined thread the stories
that haven't yet been told, the missions
that went uncelebrated, the work
and the worlds of understanding
unspoken while the men met.
Impossible But True
17. prompt: "Tell me why ..."
She has two rooms in her brain
and house: one for art and poetry
the other for work, a home office.
She knows when she's in one room
she simply cannot be in the other.
But here's the painful part:
looking through the office
from where she sits writing
the fernery reminds her
there are items not handled at work
and her brain is doomed to be in two
rooms at once, while her body isn't.
She has two rooms in her brain
and house: one for art and poetry
the other for work, a home office.
She knows when she's in one room
she simply cannot be in the other.
But here's the painful part:
looking through the office
from where she sits writing
the fernery reminds her
there are items not handled at work
and her brain is doomed to be in two
rooms at once, while her body isn't.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Neat and Tidy
16. prompt: a stacking poem
The High School reunion invitation
behind the friend's offer to find her work
is overlaid with Brea Can's newsletter
for women needing distraction and ease
while dealing with female cancers. On top
of that there is the Western Highway
Cutting Realignment Project
Community Open Day notice for which
she and her sister have registered interest.
Create it! says the newsletter from a
consultant in making albums that become
art, but art is ignored as her eyes rest
on the credit card statement and rates notice
whose corner is pinned with a leisure centre
offer of a free muscle-challenging session.
"By December" is the handwritten memo
on the printed email from publishers
of an anthology she'd love to have poems
in and over that the Poetry Walks in Melbourne
Map matches her desire to create real stories about
real places. But there: right over the directions
she has pinned a list of Bright Ideas without
substance, half-obscured by the aforesaid
rates notice. Also hiding, the appointment
cards and contacts she was once so
enthusiastic about, will one day someday follow up.
Beneath all, the corkboard as blank as any canvas.
The High School reunion invitation
behind the friend's offer to find her work
is overlaid with Brea Can's newsletter
for women needing distraction and ease
while dealing with female cancers. On top
of that there is the Western Highway
Cutting Realignment Project
Community Open Day notice for which
she and her sister have registered interest.
Create it! says the newsletter from a
consultant in making albums that become
art, but art is ignored as her eyes rest
on the credit card statement and rates notice
whose corner is pinned with a leisure centre
offer of a free muscle-challenging session.
"By December" is the handwritten memo
on the printed email from publishers
of an anthology she'd love to have poems
in and over that the Poetry Walks in Melbourne
Map matches her desire to create real stories about
real places. But there: right over the directions
she has pinned a list of Bright Ideas without
substance, half-obscured by the aforesaid
rates notice. Also hiding, the appointment
cards and contacts she was once so
enthusiastic about, will one day someday follow up.
Beneath all, the corkboard as blank as any canvas.
Free Flight
15. prompt: "just when you thought it was safe"
When five planes turn back
with engine trouble you
wonder if they'll still be up
in five years when you'll be
free to travel. You've already
created an itinerary and,
watching Jonathon Dimbleby
return to familiar streets
in the African countries
you want to re-explore,
you wish there was a new
form of transport that
could encircle the planet
but didn't fall apart, didn't
leave the ground, wasn't
held together with mere
nuts and bolts and fear.
When five planes turn back
with engine trouble you
wonder if they'll still be up
in five years when you'll be
free to travel. You've already
created an itinerary and,
watching Jonathon Dimbleby
return to familiar streets
in the African countries
you want to re-explore,
you wish there was a new
form of transport that
could encircle the planet
but didn't fall apart, didn't
leave the ground, wasn't
held together with mere
nuts and bolts and fear.
Monday, November 15, 2010
The Possibility of the Bypass
14. prompt: a crossroads poem
It's not just a crossroads
we're warring over, it's
a roundabout. And like
any circular feature, it
goes round and round
and you have to make
a real choice to get off
it.
The same people say
the same things and
gather agreement on
Facebook; they're sure
that protest/obstruction
is better than the free flow
of heavy trucks and school
children on bikes along
the current single lane
main roads.
Like I said, you have to
make a real choice to get
off your high horse and
see what's really in front
of you, see the way traffic
and ideas flow from one
entry to one exit, the organic
way a roundabout encourages
co-operation, workability,
a clean sweep making room
for all of us.
It's not just a crossroads
we're warring over, it's
a roundabout. And like
any circular feature, it
goes round and round
and you have to make
a real choice to get off
it.
The same people say
the same things and
gather agreement on
Facebook; they're sure
that protest/obstruction
is better than the free flow
of heavy trucks and school
children on bikes along
the current single lane
main roads.
Like I said, you have to
make a real choice to get
off your high horse and
see what's really in front
of you, see the way traffic
and ideas flow from one
entry to one exit, the organic
way a roundabout encourages
co-operation, workability,
a clean sweep making room
for all of us.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
What will you do with all those artistic photograph albums?
13. prompt: A question which is answered
in the poem
They ask her as if the end
justifies a particular means.
She is creating the story
of her life for others?
No, her life started and will end
as hers; the community which
owns the memories of her
will create their own. Stories.
She has threatened to send
all seventy-eight (and that's
today's count) to a national
repository, as if she is famous!
To the most recent enquirer
she responded: they shall
bury my beautiful journals
in my grave; I will sleep better.
in the poem
They ask her as if the end
justifies a particular means.
She is creating the story
of her life for others?
No, her life started and will end
as hers; the community which
owns the memories of her
will create their own. Stories.
She has threatened to send
all seventy-eight (and that's
today's count) to a national
repository, as if she is famous!
To the most recent enquirer
she responded: they shall
bury my beautiful journals
in my grave; I will sleep better.
Thoughts on Lunching Among The Silver Princesses and Their Friends
12. prompt: "forget what they say"
a garden is best
when wild
the chlorophyll-laden
competing for light
a peaceful
reasonless
fight
books tell you
cull and mow
snip, shape, sow
only what looks good,
ensure weeds are
out of sight
a relentless
reasonable
but not necessarily
productive
fight
a garden is best
when wild
the chlorophyll-laden
competing for light
a peaceful
reasonless
fight
books tell you
cull and mow
snip, shape, sow
only what looks good,
ensure weeds are
out of sight
a relentless
reasonable
but not necessarily
productive
fight
No-One Wants Enough of Anything
11. prompt: "No-one wants ..."
Mother and daughter visit
two Opp Shops. They take home:
one plaster cast eagle, claws
about to lift a crumpled
Stars 'n' Stripes; an Italian
ceramic salad bowl; three
cute handbags; a cotton
blouse, jade green; a gourd
to donate to their choir's
percussion basket.
Good finds!
At the second shop with
insufficient cash, they leave
two plaster parrots and three
summer dresses, to collect
next week. That's a dozen
items, of thousands.
They are the only customers
for recycled goods, the only
donors to funding the disabled
and the destitute at midday
the day after Remembrance Day.
Which honours those
needing nothing now.
Mother and daughter visit
two Opp Shops. They take home:
one plaster cast eagle, claws
about to lift a crumpled
Stars 'n' Stripes; an Italian
ceramic salad bowl; three
cute handbags; a cotton
blouse, jade green; a gourd
to donate to their choir's
percussion basket.
Good finds!
At the second shop with
insufficient cash, they leave
two plaster parrots and three
summer dresses, to collect
next week. That's a dozen
items, of thousands.
They are the only customers
for recycled goods, the only
donors to funding the disabled
and the destitute at midday
the day after Remembrance Day.
Which honours those
needing nothing now.
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