Day 05 – puppy love

A somewhat lighthearted pome for an otherwise rather emotional day. It’s also 9 years & one day since my housemate brought Chester home to live with us.

me or the dog

high on one 
of my shelves
a book titled 
as per this poem

jokingly perhaps
or perhaps 
genuinely concerned 

my significant other
bravely asked:
which would you choose?

i told her
i’ll call you 
the very day 
the dog dies

Day 22 – poem about sunset

translucent strip

Running late. Not content with it, but need to publish something.

all the invisibles 

for a few translucent moments
every evening just as the sun
softly feathers down behind
the hills;
……………..& throws rusty angles
over the dog yard’s corrugated
………in those moments as our star
flutters ever lower, frail formerly
unseen spiderwebs illuminate
golden, tying the cyclone mesh
together more tenderly than wire;
slightly higher up, eucalypt leaves
thread together in molten lattices;
& beyond that, half way to the sky
it playfully irradiates dozens
of previously transparent tiny
bugs suddenly bringing them
all to unexpected life;
…………..…………….…….………a reminder
if needed of how much we’re always
surrounded by the invisible

Day 20 – poem about emotional maturity


Two thirds of the way through NaPoWriMo 2017 … & a light-hearted poem on a day when I just wanted to read & relax.


people accuse
me of being

patently untrue
clearly they have
not observed

the blasé way
i now fingernail
a stray dog hair

up the slippery
side of my mug
after its quick

coffee dip &
continue sipping

Day 26 – Seeing Things

What with tomorrow being tomorrow, & plenty of work to do to get ready for it, today’s poem & Game are both going to be as brief as poossible. I’ll be using a variation of one of the Word Games I’ve played before, Last Line (Gone) – except this time it’s First Line (Gone; to be the last line of my poem) :).

The line is taken from  The Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein. A truly glorious wonderful book that made me laugh, made me cry, made me weep buckets. Told by Enzo, who is a dog, this is a book that is a delight to read & one which will no doubt linger for days.

the art of not facing the truth

it’s easy to pretend
i’m waiting for you

easy to say
i’ve learnt

easy to argue
next time will be better

easy to acknowledge
every wrong

now you are gone

empty gestures
are all i have


First line of The Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein. “Gestures all that I have; sometimes they must be grand in nature.”

(Hour 24) 9.30-10.30pm — #37 “A flea in heaven”

fleas in heaven

i hope there’s fleas
in heaven

cos all dogs
have fleas

& if heaven
has no dogs

then heaven
is no place

i want to be


Well, thank dawg!

That last one was easy (careful, it’s deeper than it looks!) ((It’s not, it’s just an end point, huzzah!!))

The card above got the most number of hits, but no bingos sadly. I got 3 x 3 in a rows overall. A pretty sorry performance by many bingo-ers expectations. But I’m pleased enough. & so to bed … :P.

Day 17 – when biography becomes poetry

This poem is inspired by a fellow NaPoWriMo-er whose site I was checking out. Her biog read almost like a poem (whether intentionally or not I couldn’t quite tell). But I loved the idea & wanted to try it for myself. It was a truly wonderful experience trying to describe yourself, not in the dry blurby words of biographical accomplishment, but in the much more playful & liberating medium of poetry. I have a feeling this really is only a first draft. It came very quickly & I know there’s probably 100 more lines that could be written. I need to write them, then cull back to the best dozen or so. None-the-less, today I don’t have time for that so this is whatcha get …


gareth: a draft poetical biography

there’s almost always music playing in my head

my brain tries putting every experience it has into a poem
— sometimes successfully

i cry at stupid dog videos on facebook

i prefer barefoot to shoes

i love stones, shells & driftwood

i have a sweet tooth i’m trying to starve

i was born an hour late & have been trying to catch up ever since

night driving in the country is a zen meditation

i know i could stop being a hermit if i make a concerted effort
— i think

sunglasses & i don’t get along, i’ve lost every pair i’ve ever owned
— (the last pair took less than a day)

i want to spend one night in a lighthouse during a storm

i want to live in New York at least once, Iceland twice & Lothlorien forever after that

you tell me my eyes change colour from deepest black
— to a goldenhoneyhazelbrown
(though i’ve never seen it)

i knew i was hurt, though i didn’t realise how much till we met

more than anything i want to be happy
— except i don’t know exactly what will make that happen



Day 11 – Sleep, ha! WTH is that? I live from nana nap to nana nap…

A friend showed me a draft of her poem entitled ‘insomnia’. So the word was in my head. Mine is a very different beast (as indeed no doubt are the things which keep us from our slumber). I didn’t intend writing it, but when the images of the ‘same sweet ghosts’ arrived & hung around, as it were, my path was trod.



well past the witching hour —
cold air — crackles the dogsnores
— magnifies the pastacrunching
mouse in a kitchen cupboard —
(who last night i tried to catch
obviously without success) —
chills the toes on my right foot
— it’s always colder than the left
even under the doona — no idea why
— must resist sleep at all costs —
& all the while — the same
sweet ghosts that usually haunt
these long alonely hours of
pretending i don’t wish to dream
float above our heads — trying
to interest me in a game of
— remember this ? —



~ interlude ~ 2 poems published online in “in daily”


in daily

While I rest from working on today’s NaPoWriMo entry, here’s a quick update of where two of my poems are being published today: dogs & their owners & honeyair

The formatting of the first is a bit wonky, but … oh well… It’s still nice to see em on the site.



The Dog in Question: Chester Lickytongue Johns.
Image: moi

The Dog in Question: Chester Lickytongue Johns.
   Image: moi


Stay tuned – there’s bound to be at least one puppy related poem written when all other ideas abandon me as I plough through this mad month.