I ... entered the poem of life, whose purpose is ... simply to witness the beauties of the world, to discover the many forms that love can take. (Barabara Blackman in 'Glass After Glass')

These poems are works in progress and may be updated without notice. Nevertheless copyright applies to all writings here and all photos (which are either my own or used with permission). Thank you for your comments. I read and appreciate them all, and reply here to specific points that seem to need it — or as I have the leisure. Otherwise I reciprocate by reading and commenting on your blog posts as much as possible.

21 April 2010

Not Looking Back

We drove out of Melbourne
without a backward look,
the car stuffed full of luggage
and a removal van en route.
The further north we got
the more we felt the energy lighten.

Incomprehensible, really.
He’d lived there since his birth
(except one year in England);
I’d been there most of my adult life.
And we’d loved the place — but
suddenly that was all over.

Two years later I was back
for a conference, briefly.
The friend who met me said,
‘So you don’t miss Melbourne, then?’
‘No,’ I said, ‘How did you know?’
‘You’re not looking out the window.’

On occasional family visits since
we’ve noticed that the new buildings
are increasingly ugly, and the din
of the city centre is like relentless gunfire.
(The locals, we think, tune out.)
No, we don’t miss Melbourne.

April PAD Challenge 20
Prompt (2): Not looking back


  1. astute person reading the lack of gawk as significant. remarkable that as attached as we are we move and and attach to the next place and people.

  2. Yes, I was impressed at the time with his astuteness. And he was so right. :)

  3. PS The attachment thing, I think, may sometimes be a matter of right timing. One can grow out of a place. As we did in this instance.