Tag Archives: grandparents

Day 17 — reading genes + reading droughts

April 17 is my grandmother’s birthday; she would’ve been 101 today. So I wanted to honour her again by a poem that explores my reading ancestry.

The Poetic Factoid was going to be about the correlation between reading & various genetic traits, until I came across a word in my research & I knew the poem had to be about that.

*****

the genetics of reading

looking back through time
     there’s a definite lineage
          a genetic heritage of literature

my mother’s always been deep
     into crime to which I was a late comer
          her greatest gift to me was green Anne
               the Poldarks surprised me by being 
                    much more than mere bodice 
                         ripping regency romances

— teen me returned the favour by hooking her on fabulous fantasy

mum was clearly given gifts from her mother as both
     delighted in the murders & mysteries of Dame Agatha
          Georgette Heyer & Dorothy L Sayers ; gran even
               read James Bond, Alistair McLean & similar thrillers
                    when younger before migrating to Danielle Steele &
                         almost anything Large Print by the end of her eyes

— wish I could’ve got her opinion on Julia Quinn

grandad was much more factual
     a biographical non-fiction kinda guy
          books on birds & the natural world
               histories  the English language 
                    the bulk of which I inherited 
                         including     naturally  fittingly

— his impressive leather bound editions of poetry 

          it gives me great pleasure sharing 
     these generational reading genes (even if 
my pants are a bit bigger than theirs)

******

Day 17 Factoid — to read or not

A Presbyopian Inspired Drought

the one time in my life 
i’ve read very little 
was for a year or so 
a decade ago when 
every book bored me
when i could not
sit still long enough
to complete a chapter
even a couple of pages
it was aberrant behaviour 
for a life long wyrm 

finally i realised 
the print was blurring
eight to ten inches 
from my eyes — but 
within a month
the magic of specially 
tailored super glass
scientifically ordained
specifically adapted
for my ageing eyes
brought the magic back

Day 05 – fierce creatures — in fiction & feathers

Today’s poem follows on from Lawrence’s maxim from a couple of days ago that it’s better to reread one book six times than six books once. Part of this month’s plan is I’d like to try & get a set of (at least 6) seminal books that’ve played an influential part in my reading journey. This is the first I’ve written (this month at least; drafts of others have been begun previously).

The legacy of this book is I love reading (now) mostly non-fiction/memoir style books of the natural world. A year in the fens, the life cycle of a wood, birdwatchingwatching, etc etc. Those type of books. Note: I’ve played with the layout so you’ll need to click on the image to enlarge the get the full effect.

Today’s poetic factoid was learnt when typing in the term “Australia’s fiercest animal”

Day 5 Factoid – fierce Australian animals

Swooper-dooper

when asked : our fiercest creature
most Aussies would say : it’s neither
crocodile nor shark : koala nor cassowary 

rather the common magpie who transforms :
from harmless hippie collective : singing hymns
round your house : to rabid riots of rage

to be fair : during spring’s
hormonal madness : male magpie’s
testicles enlarge up to 300%

so perhaps we should cut them some slack 

Day 01 – firsts: reading + writing

April. Again. Therefore Na/GloPoWriMo 2025. It felt like it arrived with a rush. Today has been a week packed into a day already. But I’m looking forward to this year because … 

As in previous years I’m adopting a themes-based approach to Na/GloPoWriMo. And this year it’s something I should, by all rights, love doing since I’ve picked a theme I love, well, doing. My task is to write a reading or book-inspired poem every day. Happy is the man who makes his vocation his vacation & all that. Well, there we go. I’ve already written over a dozen reading/book inspired poems at intermittent stages in my life. So let’s make it official & see if we can get a chapbook out of it.

So the grist for this year’s mill will include: books, book memories, stories about books, lists of books, face books, book is revist often & some I’ve ben too scared too), fave reading quotes & fave book quotes (yes I keep a file of such things), book facts & reading stats, book covers, libraries, lending books, dream house plans which is basically any house with enough rooms to use 40 of them as libraries, book collecting, shopping for books, buying books, quirky topics I collect books on, disputes with parents on the number I books I own, and so on.

As previously II, since the project I have in mind may depend on the poems not being made public prior to their appearance I won’t necessarily be posting the entirety of each poem on my blog, but sometimes a [hopefully] tantalising snippet (many journals/comps/etc refuse to accept poems even if they’ve only been on personal Facebook pages or blogs with minimal subscribers). 

As a wonderful compensation for skimpy serious verse, I’ll be repeating my daily Poetic Factoid poem assignment from previous years — which if I’m honest — can produce better poems than the main event. Hahaha!

Day 1 – reading: act I

first memory reading 
hand written words 
on pieces of paper 
kept in toy box 
at grandparents’ house
sitting beneath 
dining room table 
under which 
we’d eat Christmas 
dinners for decades 
shuffling words 
into simple sentences 

— both acts forever imbued 
with everlasting magic 

*****

Factoid 1 – first known author

not Gilgamesh again

google tricked me today 
by answering who wrote the first book
not with the anticipated response  
the unknown author of Gilgamesh
but Enheduanna 
                             — a Mesopotamian 
high priestess of the moon (of course she is)
her name means “Ornament of Heaven”
author of 42 temple hymns, the myth
of Inanna & Ebih & 2 hymns to the love goddess
all composed three centuries prior to the Epic
& her name is known 
                                    — despite the anonymity 
of her contemporary poets’ works 
all of which pleases me greatly 
(aside from being forgotten today)
but nothing more than when 
                                                 — at the end of one hymn
she bitches about how difficult the creative process is

yep, writer’s block was a thing even back then

funeral fragments 

death fractures // cracking bones // ligaments whiplash // the jostle // hustle // crave chocolate block comfort // crave compassion \\ tiny church overflowing \\ weeping so wrenchingly ugly — it has become beautiful \\ anger like an endless need to urinate without any chance for relief \\ cramp \\ bladder cramp \\ soul cramp \\ heart damp \\ where’s the respite \\ the redemption \\ soul long left // muddy earth // despite skyblue sunshine // knees crack // smack whack // the big hole // the endless whole \\ overheated hall \\ tilted \\ stilted \\ asked 10 times about the kids i don’t have \\ twice by the same guy // somehow // a long table of laughter & one outside // symbolic somehow // conversation consists of countless carnivores delighting in meat filled memory meals consumed over many years // delicious gristle // machiavellian dancers pirouette over appetite // emptiness // cosmic cravings 

goblins \\ on the drive homewards \\ darkness tunnels // only the cat’s eyes cross the road

Day 25 — make love not war (3 for the price of 1 today)

For once, I don’t feel conflicted about writing an Anzac Day Poem. And as happened 2 days ago with Bill Shakey Day, (& last year for both days) having a superimposed theme (“love” this year, “climate change” last) made me look at the day in a whole new way — which in turn has generated not 1, not 2, but 3 poems of which I am exceedingly pleased. 

Looking at love in war time is a wonderful way to get around the whole uncertainty I have about A25. 

It’s also a lovely way (pun intended) to honour, commemorate, call what you will my grandparents in poetical form.

*****

Anzac Triptych
1. Atherton Tablelands 
2. Goodbye Will Moon
3. TIL


*

1.
Atherton Tablelands

In April 1943 following three weeks leave after seeing action at Tobruk, Mersa Matruh and El Alamein Gunner RL JONES of the 2/7th Field Regiment arrived at Kairi in the Atherton Tablelands.

It was love at first sight.

Even though he was from 
a notoriously lush part
of the Adelaide hills the green 
in Far North Queensland 
is several degrees greater 
than most mortal eyes 
are used to — or able to endure.

Gunner RL Jones remained 
on the Tablelands with his unit
for almost two years — training
and playing upon the rich red 
loam born in ancient volcanoes.
Before being sent to Tarrakan 
that began the Allies’ Borneo 
Campaign. He survived those jungles 
by thinking often of the equally 
lush Atherton tablelands — 
until the Americans blew up 
the world and the war ended.

Gunner RL Jones eventually 
made his way home & made
Florence his fiancé.

Rueben told Florence. 
Of the green.
Of the red soil. 
Of his desire to move there.

Florence said no. 

He never saw the Tablelands again 


*

2.
Goodbye Will Moon

In late 1944 Corporal BI Burgan of RAAF 1 Squadron was likewise on leave when he visited his parents in Port Wakefield.

Quiet Sunday evening.
Parents off praying.
It’s been a long journey 
and I’ve only a few precious
day’s leave. But I know
dad will be disappointed
if I don’t attend. So 
although I don’t feel like it
reluctantly walk across town.

Only one seat remains 
in the very back pew.
Slide into that space next 
to a beautiful young woman
who smiles as I sit down.
Can’t concentrate. On 
what the pastor is saying.
Nor the service itself.
Nothing but —
that sublime smile.

Afterwards, I offer to walk 
her home and am bemused 
and delighted to discover 
she’s boarding with our next 
door neighbour.

We stand talking for ages
til I brazenly lean in
and kiss her over the garden gate.
I’d best go in now, she says.

The best night of my life.

During my leave we spend 
as much time as possible
together but it ends
all too quickly. Before I 
deploy to New Guinea 
I must tell her. I confess
undying love. The hammer 
blow. She’s engaged to another!
I didn’t know I say 
and chivalrously
offer to step aside. 

Leave it with me.
She says.
I’ll deal with it.

And. She. Did.


*

3.

TIL

today i learnt 
that unlike my
gran and grandad
nana and papa 
weren’t engaged
or even dating 
while he was away 
during the war
they only started 
seeing each other
after he got home 

her first  love 
     died     flying   bombers
over    germany 
   she       was                s h a t t e r e d
when   Will    was  
                                     killed 


suddenly saw my frail
ninety nine year old nana
       with  newer 
    sadder  eyes