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')

This blog is not, 'Here are my very best poems'. It's for work in progress, subject to revision.
Posts may be updated without notice at any time. Completed work appears in my books.

31 July 2012

Cold Friday: July haiku 2012

red wine
at midnight —
my neck hurts

7/7/12


children play loudly
in the doctor's waiting room
the old sit silent

13/7/12


morning light —
the sound of the cat
being sick

20/7/12


black-masked
he raids our garbage —
white ibis

24/7/12


two aged care homes
placed on either side
of the graveyard

25/7/12


cold Friday
Max's wake is happening
elsewhere

27/7/12


deadly shooting spree —
America responds
by buying more guns

29/7/12

Rainfall night: July tanka 2012

rainfall night
the cats curled in armchairs
you in bed
falling into dreams
of cats and rain

10/7/12



in all poetry
two parts are better than one
he says —
a bold assertion combining
authority and the absurd

kyoka

31/7/12

11 July 2012

Susan Online

This photo
reminds me
it must be 25 years
since we last met.

An elder's face:
shrewd humour
under the smart
upswept grey hair

and wise lines
made by living
a private life
I know nothing of.

I look for the dark-haired
girl, young Mum
who climbed up and fixed
her own roof tiles

and signed my copy
of the sonnets:
'In memory of
our boating expedition' ...

hear her again
in recordings. You still
read your poems
in that clear young voice.

            ****

I choose for my article
a different photo, between
then and now — fearful
of breaching copyright

but it seems OK,
and anyway
I don't know how
to find you.

9 July 2012

Café Conversation

They are at the table behind me.
I don't turn to look, but I can tell
they are young: twenties. Their bright
voices utter pronouncements,
laughing with assurance. I hear
one woman, two men. One man
talks loudest, leads the conversation,
shares his absolute insights
about life and people. He knows
how both behave, and how
they can be manipulated — for money.
He is telling the other two how much
he is set for success. They believe.

The girl (for I think she is barely
out of school) is almost equally assured
or wants them to think so. She agrees
airily with what the first man says, as if
she too knows, but needs his brilliance
to articulate what's so. If they are not quite
flirting, these two, they are at least trying
to impress. Without looking, I see
they are wearing very smart clothes. She
is well-fed blonde; no I don't mean fat, but with
that lovely layer of plumping under the skin
giving that skin a sunny transparence.
She knows she's got it, that lucky look.

The other man, third wheel, is not in the race.
He is the somewhat subordinate friend
they tolerate, laugh at, and then flatter
just a little bit, to keep him attached.
They scoff at his first remarks; then, after he
has been suitably abashed ten minutes or so,
they gradually start to take him more seriously,
or so it seems. Encouraged now, he expresses
further tentative opinions, kindly received. They
need him, or someone just like him. Meanwhile
I am tired: find myself nodding despite coffee.
I begin to pack up my things, and risk a look —
oh no! Can't believe I got them so exactly right.

7 July 2012

Verse Portrait 94: As I Drive Away

As I drive away from the park 
where I've been sitting 
looking at trees, and writing,

I see him squatting 
atop a wooden table 
in the gazebo near the pond.

He wears a hooded jacket.
A small back-pack clings
to his hunched shoulders.

It's only 4:15. Already
the cold hunkers down
and the slow mist comes in.

I wouldn't like to be homeless
tonight, I think, shivering
as I drive away.

Pain

Pain gives you
clarity — this is
what matters, the
only thing. This
is what it all comes
down to at last.

All those
noble thoughts,
true friendships, love,
art and nature, all
those causes, things
you voted for....

This abject animal,
your body, knows
all that is nothing.
All you want
shrinks. Just to
be free, at the end.

5 July 2012

Full Moon Observance

Dark rainsky
I think the moon
will be hidden.

When I go out
into clear cold
she is right above.

I tilt my head
her white circle doubles
the two overlap.

Around the vesica piscis
bright blue light
shines and deepens.

Lady Moon
I stand on the earth
and beg for blessings.

The hour grows late
help me now to fulfill
all my promises.

Submitted for dverse Open Link Night #51

2 July 2012

I light a match: June Tanka 2012

full moon
I light a match
give thanks
the spell burns fast
and I’m dancing

5/6/12


Tributes requested
are generously penned
for the dead poet.
And me? I pay tribute
reading her work again.

***********

her words
are clear as fire
lighting
our pathway through
her dark absence

12/6/12


leafless branches
bloom with azaleas
pink on grey
brightening winter
briefly — then pruned

19/6/12


orange blooms
over my fence
the creeper
thrives like the weeds
which I allow

26/6/12


been here
days already
present
to me and himself
now drifts off elsewhere

26-7/6/12

Across darkness: June haiku 2012

full moon
the still night
silence

full moon
the silence alive
held breath

full moon
right above me
dancing

*******

Full moon high above.
I missed it —
the partial eclipse.

5/6/12


across darkness
the starlight travels
a long, long time

12/6/12


tropic winter
huge pink azaleas
on bare twigs

19/6/12


darkness
filled with whispers
poems

*******

night
deep silence
after rain

*******

he sleeps
the cats and I
watch

*******

sleepless
wrote some poems
felt better

29/6/12

Submitted to Poets United's Poetry Pantry #105