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
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
roof;
………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
Two thirds of the way through NaPoWriMo 2017 … & a light-hearted poem on a day when I just wanted to read & relax.
growth
people accuse
me of being
change-reticent
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
unperturbed
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
because
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.”
#37
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.
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
*****
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.
*****
insomnia
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 ? —
*****
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
http://indaily.com.au/arts-and-culture/2014/04/02/poem-dogs-owners/
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
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.
gareth roi poet boi 