Tag Archives: love

Day 2 – the first thing crossed off the list

On Day 1’s entry, I mentioned how organised I am this year. I have files, lists, titles etc. The title for today’s poem (along with the whole ‘vibe of the thing’) has been floating round nagging me to do something about it for probably two years.

Today − boom! − it got dealt with …

*****

7 ways of saying the same thing

the ocean dissolves every piece of salt thrown into it
the moon washes all things the same way
a stone can outlast the silence
all clouds are cousins
my heart pumps the blood that shoots my eyes
get lost enough & eventually you’ll find your way home
i keep folding colours into each other until they become white

in the centre of all emptiness, there is always you

*****

salt moon

Valentine’s Day presence

So, the pay off for some hard work over the past week or so is here — I’ve been exploring/researching the world of epublishing.

love: a test run is my first foray into ebooks. I still seek publication via the literary journals & poetry publication websites & competitions, etc … but the reality is, I have already written more poems than I’m ever likely to see published via traditional methods. & I’m certainly not writing poetry for the $$$$. Not to mention, much of what I write probably doesn’t fit the criteria for online journals …

So be it…

I want people to read my stuff. Or at least have the opportunity to. To connect with it. To be moved by it. Even to disagree with it. Which is why epublishing is so amazing. & why I’ve taken this first Test Run step … & why there are more planned.

& so to love: a test run

Love - a test run

This collection of poems came out of an experiment for a project a fellow poet & I are working on (giving rise to one of the multiple meanings of “test run” which makes up the book’s subtitle).

The task was simple, to write a poem a day, every day for a month.

24 hours to conceive, plan, write & edit a new poem every day & email it to each other before midnight. Well, the midnight deadline didn’t always quite get met, but the poem a day did. This was not for the famously challenging event NaPoWrMo (National Poetry Writing Month) but shared similar draining/exhilarating characteristics. Oddly enough, once you got over the hump, it became easier the further on it went. Some days several poems came out of the exercise – but we only shared one per day.

The catch: every poem was to explore love in some form.

I haven’t edited them overly much, just a tweak or two here & there for clarity. I wanted to keep it close to what I churned out, I mean, produced in that furiouso month. I have altered the order of several poems to make the whole have a better flow; & a couple of the poems I sent through, I have replaced with others written in that month because they felt like they fitted the collection better. I would have liked to have shuffled the order more, but I really went with the “snap shot” notion of the test run here.

What pleases me is their diversity: there’s a wide range of styles evident; there are several different voices; the tone varies; some are more experimental than others; some are profoundly personal, others wholly imagined; even just simple things like the variety in their length (both of lines & overall poem); & of course, some succeed better than others. Naturally there are certain topics, images, phrases that echo themselves – but overall, I hope they make for an eclectic, interesting read.

What remains constant is the theme: there’s poems about true love, soul mate love, infidelity, whale love, first love, lost love, unrequited love, undeclared love, dark love, abandoned love, arrogant love, ghost love, broken love, eternal love, love-at-first-sight love, literary love, 10-second love, pure perfect impossible love, painful love, imagined love, fantasy love, universe-ending love … & more besides I’m sure.

I hope you seek out & enjoy love: a test run …

it’s available at these addresses:

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/519315 (sample & full download available)

http://www.wattpad.com/myworks/32748708-love-a-test-run (sample only)

& via your ereading devices shortly (i hope, once it gets approval) ((if i understand how it all works 🙂 ))

if you read & like, leave a comment.

but as a taste test of the test run …

here are two poems i particularly enjoy

Day 10. explaining the universe, using the physics of love

here’s what happened
put into the simplest
language i can muster
as best as i understand
20 years on

i gave you more of my heart
than i could reasonably
be expected to lose
then you died
gone — none know where

that part of my heart so gifted
went with you

& that … is how
black holes are made

Day 16. love poem to my plump lover

how do i love thee
let me not count the weighs

Later skaters. May you survive Valentine’s Day — whether it is a day of joy or pain for you …

thinking of a friend on their birthday

This is a bit unusual.  Two updates in 2 days (& it’s not even NaPoWrMo!).  But thinking of a friend on their birthday led to this.  It’s not the sort of thing I usually write, but I guess always writing the same thing can get boring.

Two verses came easily standing at the sink. Two were tougher (if I’d known how tough, I might not have persevered.)  Thanks to Aristotle for letting me pinch his phrase for my title.

NB despite my best tweaking I can’t get the display image (below) to stop appearing slightly pixelated. If you click on it though, it will be crystal clear.

*****

slow ripening fruit

Day 29 – April Twenty Nine: a kind of love poem

Had a number of poems I could choose from today. Went with this cos it’s unlike most of the ones I’ve posted this month.

Almost sad to realise there’s only one day left …

deliberations made since you stood me up one time too many

admittedly, unequivocally, & without question
the house is calmer
since you’ve stopped coming over
but is peace, tranquility, contentment,
balance, harmony, solace & serenity
worth losing your special brand of insanity

sadly, the jury is still out on that

*****

 Heart_by_HEandRO copy

 

Image: Heart by HEandRo.

April 19 – Day Nineteen: the theme continues

Still at country retreat. Same Word Press issue.

This came in a white hot rush & has barely been touched.  It’s almost Day 18: part 2. Or draft two. Or whatever. It’s a better poem than yesterday’s, that’s for sure. Was posted on fb 11 hours before midnight!!! I was impressed.

On at least one level the inspiration for today’s poem should be obvious.

Tomb

Buried. In darkness. Alone.
Wake surrounded. By the scent of aloes.
& bitter perfumes. All is dark, cold. Every
atom aches. Every muscle. Wine soaked.
Sinew & bone. I am sore. To my core.

The air smells. Mushrooms. Liquorice,
Damp smouldering wood. Eat the aloe.
Make myself sick. Eject the poison.
Wounded. In dark places I dwell. Alone
In a cave. Just me. & my angels.

*****

2014-04-24 09.53.56-8

April 18 – Day Eighteen: Easter ghosts

I saved a bunch of articles I was planning to use/explore in poetic form during NaPoWriMo. Yet almost every day, something more “personal” gets in the way.  Good Friday (the day this was written, was one of them.)  This poem was written in the car on the drive between Adelaide & my parents’ farm.

When I re-read the poem for the first time since posting it on fb almost a week ago, the irony is, the poem itself has a huge hole. The one thing I always think about at Easter is not including, other than through indirect allusions.  Maybe it works, maybe it needs to be addressed in May, when NaPoWriMo is over & the editing process can begin on all these half begun, half completed poetical sketches.  I want to tweak it even now, but will save that for later & repost as first put onto fb.


What I think of when I think of Easter

Looking over the litany of Easters past
I recall very few moments of chocolates & egg hunts 
Haunted by decades of bright eyed moons

Floating down houseboat rivers, discovering cunnilingus
Climbing cliffs, faking falls, tomato sauce for blood
Church surfing with fish laughing at services
Glorious joyous days before he finally died
Driving overnight interstate thinking I was driving to true love
Some lost at the bottom of a bottle
Crashing cars in suburban streets
Several lazy long weekends at the farm
Amusing my nieces, annoying the rest
Walking with a black dog, before meeting my souldog

Tonight the moon’s a ruddy oblong egg
Low, ghosting the hills, as I drive north
What is life but a succession of wounds
Public crucifixions, little deaths, lying in darkness
Trapped beyond stone, & eventually rising to do it all again

What pains me are the holes
Years I can’t remember – when I’m the only constant
No other person or thing to act as yardstick
& the holes

Lovers lost, friends forgotten, children never held

*****

blood_moon_by_darkriderdlmc-d4rzhrg

Image: Dark Moon by darkriderdlmc @ deviantart.com

April 17 – Day Seventeen: dreams of you

Well yesterday’s experiment didn’t quite get the response I was hoping for.  Hahaha, oh well.  (There’s still time to go back & play if you want to.  Read Day 16 & comment at the end for a chance to win a special prize – it has to be on my blog, fb & twitter comments don’t count.)

Maybe that’s why writing today was tough. I was a bit down. Tried a few things. Messaged a friend in the states just as he’d woken from a bad dream (it was 3am in Maryland).  We talk a bit about bad dreams. I never have them (though I have woken myself up from laughing in my dreams & in my body at the same – glorious sensation – although I think it’s how the dali lama must feel). Tried to write about that, meh! Tried to write about my friend’s scary dream of being left alone, meh.

Then this came out. Of nowhere. Not sure I understand it. Pretty sure I like it.

Shades

Half-woken scraps of you swirl round
the half sunrisen gloom of my room
through tannin-thick wetpaper-thin skull

Like souls of men recently killed
on a battlefield, afraid to leave

We have not spoken in two weeks
keep eyes closed as long as I can
these torments all I have of you

A herd of cats claw my legs
tripping me, demanding to be fed

For while I only half-remember
the dreams, I’m reluctant
to relinquish what little I have

So I leave the black shroud cloth
covering my eyes & drift

It is a prism refracting weak light
each intersection of weft & weave
it’s own rainbow link to another world

Opaque, shiny as an insect’s eye
Then. I. Don’t. Care.

*****

 hidden_eyes_beauty_2_by_bayhor-d5k5p14 copy

April 15 – Day Fifteen: halfway there

Technology makes life pretty awesome for writers.  (When it works of course.)  I am a big fan of Dropbox. All my writing is saved in there & I can access it from anywhere there’s interwebs. Sadly, Dropbox is clunky when it comes to editing, so I use Plain Text, which syncs with Dropbox.  With this PlainText/Dropbox combo I can write a poem on the beach on my phone, edit it on the iPad at a friend’s on the way home & when I open it up on my desktop, the latest version is there, raring to go.  It’s brillo.

Autocorrect, however, while brilliant much of the time, doesn’t always know what I want to say.  Today’s poem was influenced on a whim, by the quirk of autocorrect. 

I was sitting on a bench with the pooch, people watching, sunset waiting, after a nice long walk on the beach.  I started to take some notes on a possible “people watching poem”.  I began with “The girl who squeaks like a bird”.  Except my fat fingers didn’t quite type that.  It didn’t cope with the next phrase either … & an idea was born.  I immediately created some rules.  Well two.

1. Think of the entire line in advance & type as quickly as I could without pausing or backspacing.
2. Accept whatever autocorrect suggested.

Some lines have more autocorrect influence than others, some lines are made gibberishy by the auto; some, somehow more profound; & some just thrilled me no end when they appeared.  No lines have been edited (this also means it’s more fun/less work than a regular poem – haha!)

Esplanade Cavalcade (autocorrected)

The girl who squeaks like absurd,
as her patents ignore her
& talk over her head

The brothers who clamber along Hyde rocks,
one of them finds a cram she’ll,
the it get doesn’t want to look

The ring tonight ting yin
gets bike riders

The yummy mummy jogging
with babying pusher
& a well behaved chic lab trotting alongside

The lesbian couple who u saw
being affectionate on the beach before,
now sadly walking diary,
barely together

The cute teen girl in a purple jumper
who smokes at us as she passes,
park duly more at Chester than I

The woman with the jock terrier
who’s bum bounced a nubs of its own
as she briskwalked away

The overlay earnest woman admiring
the moshav art on the rocks
who stops to tell me to look at one further up
called “the last snapper”

The lonely guy sitting on the bench
playing with this phone instead
of watching the sub set,
or the blood mob riding behind him

*****

 

I couldn’t decide which image to go with … so I’m going with both.

 the last snapper

 

posing on a rock

 

Both images by moi.
Top: “The Last Snapper” cooperative association of Israeli smallholders art.
Bottom: Posing on a Rock. (Such a good boy)

April 13 – Day Thirteen: SUNDAY SILLY (part ii) [Family Caricature]

Today’s effort is inspired by a family lunch.  

Disclaimer: It is intended as Caricature Poem only. No resemblance to any person living or deceased is intended (except Aunt Ricky).

family luncheon

sitting down for yet another never-ending family luncheon
i notice what a truly unsightly gaggle we are as a clan

nana’s lazy eye, which double crosses her every time she’s tipsy
dad’s weak chin, still there, despite trying to hide behind a beard

mum’s jagged line of perpetually decaying dental disaster zone
grandpa’s bushy black eyebrows waggling like warring caterpillars

uncle frank’s franciscan friar’s bald patch, a tonsure reflecting god’s light
papa’s broad potato splodge nose, an elephantine red pontiac hit by a brick

sis’s dumbo ears, which if caught in a tornado would transport her to oz
aunt ricky’s wine&pizza-fuelled paunch — no, not 7 months preggers!

gran’s, actually granny is the most attractive one at the table by a country
mile … so nothing to say (besides it’s her birthday so i needs be nice to her)

while i admit i’ve inherited each & every of these delightful genetic quirks
i would stlil have liked the opportunity to pass the whole glad grabbag along
to the next unfortunate generation of freaks, causing equal amounts of angst
embarrassment remorse & bitterness … & the contemplation of plastic surgery

*****

100 lighting cake

Image: Granny using her cake candles to light her cancer stick.

April 12 – Day Twelve: anniversary (a year, a week & a day since you moved in)

The original intention was to publish this a year & a week from the day our lives meshed. The tech glitches described in such eloquent detail in a previous ~interlude~ prevented that.  So now it is online, a year, a week & a day since that wonderful day.  You’ve changed my life in ways I didn’t believe possible.

Belated Anniversary Poem

It occurred to me yesterday, I forgot an anniversary
A big one, too. A year together. A full year. Our first.
I’m not the man who wept last Easter. I am un-entombed.

I met you on a Monday, you’d moved in by Friday.
We met on April Fools Day, which some think’s funny
but for me is no laughing matter. It suits us perfectly

& even though I’m reasonably confident you’re okay
I forgot — no doubt not realising the significance either
for me it’s important to sing to the stars I’m the best

I’ve been since you came, the world’s broken in two
even to the point of my own personal timekeeping
symbology — AD is After Dog; BC, Before Chester.

Lick you!

 

 

*****

2014-04-13 21.47.56

 

Image: ChesterLickyTongue, by moi