Tag Archives: darkness

Day 25 — the dead & the biscuit

The superimposed theme has made this year’s Anzac Day Poem a trifle harder than previous years. I’m pleased with the angle taken, though I think it might be expanded upon in a future draft…

*****

the dead down under

long squatting on a rock
observing the ferryman

causes me to note the dead do not
seem to ever cease arriving

lately though it’s easy to tell
some het up petty king up above

must be arguing with some 
other equally belligerent lord

cos the deadstream of bewildered soldiers 
is wider swifter & deeper than Styx itself

*****

Day 25 — TIL about biscuits

The Original Anzac Biscuit

i.
first up: the delicious 
sweet biscuit of childhood
rolled oats & golden syrup 
is not the original Gallipoli treat
(*even if it is best)

ii.
hardtack biscuits are exactly 
as tasty as they sound 
having been a soldier’s staple 
ration for centuries
(& some allegedly were that old)

iii.
a bread substitute whose best attribute  
is it doesn’t go mouldy (well yum)
unlike bread, they’re very, very hard
not to mention pretty well unpalatable

iv.
to make them semi-digestible
they were ground into a kind 
of gruel by grating & adding water
— for something more exotic 
(once soaked) jam was added 
before baking over a fire into “tarts”
not quite like mother used to make

v.
if you didn’t want to eat them
(& why would you) you could 
also to write letters to loved ones
& send them home or use them 
as paint canvases or photo frames
one even transformed to “christmas card” 
with that most christmas of topics
— a tropical scene — painted on it
including the wonderful verse
WE’RE SENDING THIS / (WE’LL RISK IT) 
/ XMAS CARDS ARE VERY / SCARCE 
SO WE / WROTE IT ON A BISCUIT

Day 24 — Another Big O study + a not so big Apple

Another poem just trying to get into the zone/the arc of whatever I’m trying to tell about this story. Still feels like straw-clutching sadly

*****

Orpheus: study #6


don’t speak for weeks
sit on stones by the river
beneath the mountain rocks
it’s dark water like tearsalt
autumns pass, winters pass, never a spring
no warming nights, no thawing snow

remember walking 
beneath a fragment of moon
sneaking amongst young spruce
laughing, light from the heavens starshine upon your skin
giving you my hands, giving you a ring 
guarding us against love

we must meet again

asking strangers who slide past
are you the one i seek
have sought everywhere
since the earliest days
the strangers always answer 
      no
(if they answer at all)

i have forgotten what i know
let my life begin as it ends

*****

Day 24 — TIL about Another Apple

Worm in the Apple

i.
there was 
a third Apple 
founder

Ronald Wayne 
sold his 10% stake 
for $800 in 1976

Ronald
Who?

Exactly!

ii.
In the early 1990s
Wayne sold the original 
Apple partnership contract paper

signed in 1976 by 
Jobs, Wozniak, 
& himself for US$500

In 2011 the contract sold 
at auction for $1.6 million

— Seriously Ron! Have you learnt nothing!

Ron has stated he regrets the sale
Well, duh!

Day 23 — a sonnet, sort of + big birthday cakes

Today’s poem is a homage to Bill by way of Henry VIII. It’s a Golden Shovel of “Orpheus with his lute” a 12 line poem/song in Henry VIII. Many/Mosyt scholars believe this play was a collaborative effort between Bill & John Fletcher, & I’m inclined to agree with them because it’s never felt like “Shakespeare” to me.

I’ve chosen it because: well Orpheus … & I have Golden Shoveled the last words of each line, juggled them & turned it into a sonnet. Not a great sonnet, mind you, but one with a passing resemblance to a snout. Unlike the ones from the 19th which were all AI generated That was the big guessing game thing that all two of you played haha). It had been my intention to reinterpret one of those to try & punch it into shape but I just found it too hard/the lines too banal. This definitely needs more work, but time being what it is means you get what you see …

*****

Luteless, Orpheus
(with Golden Shovelment to William Shakespeare/John Fletcher)


Forlorn Orpheus longed once more to see 
for himself; the unbelievable greenness of trees,
Rather than be buried neckdeep in melancholy
surrounded by deep dirt, soul ready to freeze

He had long since forgotten how to sing
had no desire to take up lute & play,
Forgotten there was a thing called spring.
had no desire to complete his latest lay.

He longed for the cheerful sway of flowers
wished somehow to re-kickstart his sad heart
Longed for the gentlest summer showers
wished sadly to care once more about petty art:

If only he hadn’t glimpsed her in his corner eye
Then neither of them would have needed to re-die.

*****

Day 23 — TIL about Bill’s birthday

old man Bill

If Bill
were alive today 
he’d be 459
which although 
pretty rootin’ tootin’ 
ancient — is still
less than half
as long as Noah 
or Adam.

However, 
he splashes all 
the post-flood crew
out of the water
— over double 
Abraham & Isaac;
almost quadruple 
poor young Moses.

Which is easier to believe:
Methuselah made it to 969
— or the Stratford man
wrote the damn plays!


Day 22 — The Lord of the Fools + LOTR

Over the course of a month lots of ideas get tested & abandoned. Several lines in this poem were previously homeless yet coagulated into this one. As for the Poetic Factoid Poem — Warning. There’s a big *BIG* TRIGGER WARNING on this one for people who don’t feel/think they’re as old as they really are.

*****

Lord of the Fools


dirt beneath my nails
clawing the claybanks
for your return


dream of trees


a lifetime to learn
the dead do not
dance back to life
on the whim 
of a lonely man

a mere heart beat
to make it proof

can’t craft the words
the way my brain feels them


impossible imposter


need to learn another language
to remember how to speak my own


lost days 


try drowning myself 
in every river


but even there i’m evicted

*****

Day 22 — TIL something deeply disturbing about the Lord of the Rings films

the Lord of the Wrinkles

i. meme
read a brutal meme 
today which said
Viggo Mortensen 
is the same age 
Ian McKellen was
when he played 
Gandalf.

NO, I AM NOT OKAY
I CANNOT POET
ANY MORE TODAY
SORRY! GOODBYE!!

ii. data
naturally, being a fool
i had to check 
the veracity 
of cursed meme
— turns out 
it’s even worse
Aragorn’s older 
than Gandalf
was at the end
of Return of the King! 

time for a cuppa & a lie down

Principal photography 11 October 1999 — 22 December 2000
with pick-up shots done from 2001 to 27 June 2003.

Viggo born October 20, 1958 (current age 64)
45 when started filming, 49 when finished 

Ian born 25 May 1939 (current age 83)
60 when started filming, 64 when finished 

Day 21 — underground fungi & Gruen undercover

This poem is a sibling to yesterday’s in that it began as a verse in that Frankenpoem which did not fit in with the rest, but was an idea I liked & echoed one I’d been considering: a poem wherein Big O is a fun guy while making his way down to Hades. The title just won’t work though… 

*****

shroom-zoom


took a wrong turn
shimerlight lost
not even shades
wander this way
lick water from walls
but wretched hunger
will claim me first
at least i’ll die here
perhaps my psyche 
will find its way to E
only the sooty fungi
the clang of clay pots
tracking spicy spores
down into the river
at the end of the world
beginning of the universe
stars & souls & gods
all zooming by / the ache
of my internal eyes

*****

Day 21 — TIL about the Gruen Effect

the Gruen Effect

shopping malls (& casinos)
modern pilgrimage sites
fully enclosed  introverted
climate-controlled faux 
town squares skylight-lit food 
court pleasuredomes+parking
are intentionally designed as 
confusing customer traps /
disorienting / losing track 
of time & space / engrossing 
overwhelming experiences /
crammed with colour / bright 
lights / tantalising smells / to 
transport customers in/
to states of emotional
arousal / succumb to countless 
tempting desires / forget their original 
reason for shopping / make impulse purchases
because / they’re / available / & / attractive

\ not because \ they’re needed


Day 20 — Frankenpoem + poetry derived from academic papers

This poem was created using a technique I call Frankenpoeming. It’s where I take a few lines or a phrases or an image from the poems I’ve been reading each day & then crunch them all together — reconfiguring metaphors, smashing words against each other, juxtaposing ideas I wouldn’t have necessary considered, & just generally using them as jumping off points into something of my own. 

Then I leave it for a few hours, before going over it again & editing tweaking polishing, extending weird things into things that more (or less) sense. Sometime extracting the really crazy stuff altogether — or just leaving it.

*****

darkness treks

for fifteen months 
been unsuccessfully
screaming you home

daily flinging myself 
at the feral ferryman’s feet
heart full of terrorlove

every note forlorn forever
can no longer tell 
bat from man, from moth

seven forgotten stars
stare straight in my eye 
singing swift desolation

endless walks deep down 
permanently passing
leading from nowhere 

to somewhere worse

Day 20 – TIL that in 1974, the Journal of Applied Behavior Analysis published a paper titled “The Unsuccessful Self-Treatment of a Case of Writer’s Block.” It contained a total of zero words.

With this in mind, I’d like to write a poem based on the paper.

*****

The Unsuccessful Self-Treatment of a Case of Writer’s Block
(a poetic interpretation)




Day 21 – poem about the dark

milky_way_panorama_by_bobby01-d48thle

Visits to my parents’ farm during New Moons have always been mystical. I like walking over land I cannot quite see. Beautiful blackness in all directions. Only the frail light of starlight millions of years old to guide my way (hell, that’s good, why isn’t that in the pome? haha).

I’m not satisfied with the last lines, but as I only started this an hour or so ago, I’m running out of time & will just have to let it stay as is for now.

source

i believe very little
but i truly believe
every human soul
should experience
true country dark
every 100 days, minimum

somewhere far from
a light polluted city
when the moon is in
recovery mode, & the earth
reflects back the black
birth of the universe

only alone in the vast absence
& endlessly reverberating silence
we find how much dark matters

Day 05 – poem about shadows

talking_to_the_moon_by_gilad CROP

This strange little poem grew out of the first three words which just popped into my head. The rest flowed out afterwards without much effort. Gotta have at least one poem about the moon or else it isn’t a real NaPoWriMo. Hope I haven’t done my dash by tossing it in so early in the month.

the moon & me

the moon
smothers

in violent light
holds head under

satin stain
on the wall

awkwardly cast
shadowself

always clawing
through to the other

(dark)
side of me

Day 22 – And now for something completely different …

This began as a draft in January. I have redrafted, edited  & posted it today for obvious reasons. It is the first poem this month not generated via Word Games.

grieving kangaroos

we live in a world, where, when a beloved famousity
dies, social media bloodbaths into a whirlpool : wailing
wallowing, teethgnashing, pedastooling, & deifying —
alongside attacks, assassinations & ruthless debunking.

since we have capacity to celebrate celebrity demises
en masse, it has become de rigueur to do so : vehemently
& publicly with status updates & changed profile pics
alerting the indifferent world of your immense loss.

trolls rumble from caves, dragging into the light
their democratic right to demonise — reminding us :
fame isn’t bestowed solely on saints & that as much
darkness lurks under the skins of those we idolise.

meanwhile, the day-to-day tragedies go ever on, untweeted
— as do the friends, daughters, grandsons of those left …

kangaCROP

(Hour 03) 12.30-01.30am. PROMPT, title: “before darkness”

I’m not too unhappy with this one, but likewise, I doubt it will have a life elsewhere (unless greatly tweaked), so it seems a solid one to share. As the heading suggests, the prompt was simply to use the title “before darkness”. The actual poem didn’t take long to arrive, but I had to think a long while (‘long’ being a relative term in this construct, ie about 35 minutes) about the best way to approach it, cos I found the prompt a little uninspiring TBH.

before darkness

before darkness : the rush & bustle : the sirens : the tunnel vision : the tap tap tap of 10 million keyboards : the conferring media : spin cycles : PR exercises : racing rodents : the tabloid’s blood : the dog & pony show : the argy : the bargy : the win/lose polarity : the butting of heads : the calling of names : the inciting : the absence of morality  : heat : sweat : steam

after darkness : sweet stillness : time for going deep : the slumber of shadows : the road of milk : the road of wonder : so many roads : spreading in all directions : the slowly descending silence : the chance to discover : catching thought : gossamer strings : self being mirrored unto itself : the beginnings of awareness : of everything : of which : you are unaware : cool breath

instead of fearing darkness : so much : we really should : question light