Day 25 — big dates raise big issues

As always, Anzac Day is highly conflicted for me. I had two grandfathers who served in WW2 in North Africa, the Middle East & Papua New Guinea & who thankfully both came home. I had a great grandfather & a great great uncle who fought in the trenches of France & one came home & one did not. I had another great grandfather who served with the Light Horse in Egypt & Palestine. He also came home. So the Anzac mythos is strong on both sides of my family. It is personal. However, at the same time, I find much of Anzac Day tokenistic* & backward-looking. See below for my reasoning.

*Though there is something very communal & positive about the #AnzacAtHome & #DrivewayAtDawn movement as a result of COVID-19 which I like immensely. Perhaps this could be one of the ways forward, followed by street parties all over the country.

*****

the Anzac spirit

beware: today’s the day you’re most
likely to catch Anzacspiritus flu
an insidious disease that claims men
fighting on Gallipoli beaches
& trenches of the Western front
somehow forged our young nation’s
nature with five distinctive qualities:
mateship, humour, courage,
ingenuity, & endurance.

my perennial question —
how 256,000 men who rarely
spoke of their experiences
influenced the entirity of Australian
society’s then five millions
remains unanswered.

that said, i don’t begrudge a nation
built on these tenets
they’re a reasonable list — though
you wonder if they’re not in fact
lacking somewhat. maybe: compassion,
cooperation, freedom, security & equity
could be added.

but instead of simply praising them
this one day of the year
let’s actually live by them.

there wasn’t much mateship going round
when toilet paper was being hoarded
& supermarket shelves stripped;
nor courage when it came to attacking
fellow citizens simply because they look
like where our current virus is from.
thankfully though our GSOH
has been highly evident through countless
memes, TP workout routines, etc.

my request is — if any politician
from the Prime Minister down
to your local council member
wants to cash in on the gungho glory
of Anzac then they need to spread
those five+ tenets to every decision
they make throughout the year.

let’s start using our brave, heroic,
foolish, flawed Diggers never ending
sacrifices to heal, to look forward,
instead of always behind …

Day 24 — doing one’s bit in trying times #notallheroes

A smaller more personal poem today, after the excesses of yesterday.

*****

peak pandemic

how perfectly pleasant
to sit inside rug on lap
book in hand tea by side
warm as butter slowly
melting into hot crumpets
dog snoring nearby

while outside trees writhe
in the window-rattling
thunder-spreading wind
the sky grey in all ways
& the rain hits the roof
like a million microscopic
viruses trying to breach
my home’s defences

all while knowing

i’m
helping
save
the
world

life has reached peak

Note: I’m borderline embarrassed to admit (but not quite really) that I almost spent more time looking at images of cups of tea next to books by rainy windows than I did writing the poem. OMG I’ve discovered a new way (as if one was needed) to waste valuable interwebs time.

Day 23 — Shakespeare & birds & eccentrics: but no rabbits

April 23 is, as I said Monday (Plague Lear), Shakespeare’s birthday/deathday/choose-your-own-anniversary-day. Each year I write something Bill-affiliated. This is the reserve idea mentioned then even though it’s been in my mind for several years ever since reading an article about … well, see below.

A second part 2. Austin’s rabbits, exploring the introduction of rabbits to Australia is also intended, but owing to: a) part 1’s length; b) my inability to reduce a); & c: my weariness, I’m only going to upload part 1. Part 2, although currently incomplete, I still see very much as a companion to this poem. When a first draft of it is finalised, it might help me work out what to trim here.

*****

the law of unintended consequences: Schieffelin’s starlings & Austin’s rabbits

1. Schieffelin’s starlings

i. 1596, London
Shakespeare penning Henry IV, Part 1 :
Hotspur plots to drive Harry nuts
by teaching a starling to repeat
his brother-in-law Mortimer’s name
till he is released from Welsh prison.
the only reference to the bird
in all the Bard’s eclectic opus
— a throwaway line from a country
twitcher turned urban playwright.

ii. 1890, New York
March 6, 1890, Central Park
German immigrant, Bronx resident,
wealthy American businessman,
gentleman, (eccentric) drug manufacturer
American Acclimatization Society member,
& Shakespearian aficionado or fanatic
depending on who you ask
— Eugene Schieffelin —
decided it would be a lark
to introduce (imported from
the Old World at great expense)
every bird spoken in Shakespeare
to North America.

& so 100 birds fly off
into the virgin new world blue

iii. Now
numbering over 200 million
from Alaska to Mexico
these lean mean feathered bullets
do nothing in moderation.
the Rocky Balboas of bird boxing
fierce fighters for nest cavities
regularly muscle out native birds
& blamed for their population declines.
willing & able to eat anything
breed with disconcerting vigour.
— have brought down planes
cost US agriculture a billion a year
steal cows’ grain condensing milk production.

iv. Retrospect
Schieffelin’s attempts
to introduce skylarks
bullfinches, chaffinches, & nightingales
were thankfully, unsuccessful.
however, starlings, sparrows, & pigeons
remain the only unprotected avine
in North America (all introduced)
their numbers in total more
than all other birds combined.

no doubt had he future-known
Bill would have taken up
his quill
& struck
said references from his pages
most vigourously.

Note: some scholars reject the theory that Schieffelin belonged to a group dedicated to introducing into America all the birds mentioned in Shakespeare’s works wanting to hear them warbling their old world songs on the limbs & branches of America … but I have used it irregardless because, poetry. Everything else is as factual as my research can make it.

Day 22 — how to conduct a successful social interaction in the age of forgetting what people are

Worked on two more “serious” poems for much of the afternoon/evening … then this little masterpiece of “how to conduct a successful social interaction” muscled its way in & took over. Probably for the best, there’s too much serious shit going on anyways.

*****

face to, er …

while out : on my legally sanctioned : essential activities today : yet another blood test : if you must know : mr secret policeman : i observe : a friend : not seen, y’know, in the flesh : for forever : foolishly : inundated by hormones : or oxygen overload : or something : i call out : then immediately : regret : as it means : bursting the digital bubble : we have existed in : quite pleasantly for/

/fuck they’re here : now i need to talk small : & when you’ve been doing : the exact same thing : every : day : since : the Ides : trying to spice up : your exceedingly monotone : discomplishments : all while : trying to remember : that normal people : tend to make eye contact : then worrying : that normal people : shouldn’t be standing round : reminding themselves : that normal people : need to make eye contact — & all that while : making (it’s to be hoped) : non-threatening : non-psychotic : eye contact : it’s also considered : quite polite : to listen to whatever : mundanity they’ve been up to : too

disturbingly : there are times : when the words : just : end

& i’m not sure : what to do : ordinarily : (ie, for the past 6 weeks) : you just stop typing : have a little think : maybe make a cup of tea : or go pee : or both : then return : rejuvenated : & fill in that obscene : j’accuse! : rectangular window : with something devastating & witty : & one’s reputation : as raconteur : & all round good egg : is maintained

finally : blessedly : the words : eventually : completely : dry up : & we are able : after a couple of : false starter’s pistols : dash off : in our separate : lanes

quick drive home : then the first thing i do? : msg them to say : it was good seeing you in the flesh … even if I did realise halfway through I has forgetted how to person it up

their swift reply : you were never that good at it to begin with : while technically correct : hurts : more than it should

Day 21 — writing poetry with Rilke via Googletranslate

Today’s poem is a strange little beast. I’m reading a collection of Rainer Maria Rilke, when I came across a poem which although ostensibly about love, had a few vague echoes about disease/the coronavirus (well to my pandemic-overloaded mind it did at least). Intriguing, do go on.

Prior to this I’d been thinking about translation (it’s a dual language edition, so even though I can’t read German I’m often flicking across to compare versions, to see if I can see words I recognise amongst the autobahn zehn-Autos-stapeln-sich Deutsch so often is to the untrained).

I’d also been thinking about translation because the edition was one I hadn’t read before & I was really recognising the clarity & cleanth of the translation. It was hugely adding to my enjoyment. Then I wondered how I’d go translating it. That was about 3pm. It’s now 8. I’ve studiously avoided looking at the English translation since. I punched the German text into google translate. Then went from there using the text the machine gave me.

My version is a “loose” quasisemitransliteration of Rilke’s. I’ve tried to keep roughly to the original, but I also tweaked where I needed to & occasionally much more than tweaked to make it work better for my interpretation. I know google translate had its own little idiosyncrasies because it spat out a phrase “to Christmas every hour” & I’m damn sure Rainer didn’t mention that particular festivity but I went with it anyway. Only once this is uploaded, will I compare the two versions.

*****

everyone alone
(a quasisemitransliteration of “I am too alone in the world and yet not alone enough”)

too alone in the world, yet not so alone
to not try keeping Christmas through this strange year

too small in the world, yet not big enough
to be resist a thing like you: dark & clever

want my will & to accompany it against inaction
want contentment in these quiet, hesitant times

want to not be among those who remain — alone
when your thundercloud darkness approaches

want to deflect your sickly embrace, not entirely
but enough to keep your heavy swaying punch at bay

don’t want to stay here, or anywhere, indefinitely
don’t want to be tied to where I was born

want to roam wander, rove, ramble, meander
to traipse, travel, tramp, traverse, trek — want to drift

i want to survive
like that picture my love made me in a world long & close ago
like a newly learnt word i now understand
like my daily jog through twitter’s outrages
like my dog’s face on my knee when i cough too long
like a ship carrying me through a deadly storm.

Day 20 — positive thinking while in lockdown

I was saving this idea for the 23rd (Shakespeare’s birthday/deathday/chose-your-own-anniversary-day) when I usually write something Shakey-related. Anyhoo this was an idea I thought I might explore then, but it poured out of me today, so we’ll just deal with it. (I do have another idea in reserve, or perhaps something entirely new will pop out.)

Also thanks to a poet whose work I hugely admire, as well as being a dear friend, for saying he’s been enjoying reading my poems. He was particularly kind about this year’s Easter Sunday poem saying it “abided with [him]” & it’s been returning to his mind often over the last few days. He’s even left it open in his browser to be able to come back to it. Thank you Tom. That means the absolute world to me. It often feels during this mad month that you’re writing in & to a vacuum; and that much of what gets created is pedestrian at best, or merely not-quite-average, so even if only one or two poems fire during the month, it feels like a success.

*****

Plague Lear

i.
if, like me,your mediocrity valve is already open
full trickle then saccharine motivational memes
such as Shakespeare wrote Lear during the plague

aren’t. bloody. helping. one. poxy. bit.

ii.
well take a modicum of heart cos the reality is
Shakey dates are always shaky at best but Lear
probably doesn’t quite pass the jester test

sure, Lear was most likely written in 1606
it was entered into the Stationers’ Register that year
& contemporary events seem referenced within

yet 1606 wasn’t such a big deal as pandemics go
— most every year had a bitta Black Death — the Great Plague*
didn’t hit til 65 & the Sweet Swan was long gone

1603 was the go to year for things bubonic in Bill’s life
& all our country boy turned out then was (chortle)
Measure for Measure — yes, one of the “problem plays”

iii.
if you really want to feel insecure (& no doubt you do)
consider that 1606 might’ve been the year not only
of Lear — but Macbeth — & Antony & Cleopatra too

Bing. Bang. Boom!

*Between 1603 and 1665, only four years had no recorded cases of plague.

The Great Plague of 1665-66 was actually the second plague to be so known; the first was in 1625 & was known as the Great Plague until it was surpassed in deaths by the “final” Great Plague.

Plague was par for the course for everyone in those days is what I’m saying.

Day 19 – turns out is semi-silly Sunday after all

As with yesterday, poor health means I’m gonna double up on poems today too. I’m still sticking to theme though. So all good.

Here is the prompt from TheDirtyThirty2020 #day19.

“You’re a criminal mastermind leaving a note at one of your classic, non-murderous, white collar, victimless crime scenes. In the letter, you leave a secret, hidden message for a genius, wily investigator to find, hoping for a game of cat and mouse they’ll make a movie about one day. Write the letter you leave.”

Given the task was to leave a letter for an inspector to find I thought who’s the best inspector I know? Why Peter Sellers of course. To make things more interesting I thought I’d combine another character into the mix as the criminal.

So here’s my letter from Where’s Wally to Inspector Clouseau.

*****

What’s Wally stolen?

Clouseau – you cannot catch me – I’ve left no clue
Or maybe I have – so beware – that clue’s untrue
Vanished I have – into the ether – into the air
Into here – into there – perhaps into everywhere

Disappearing in crowds is what I do best of all
– where’s that effing Wally? – I hear you chiding
1f you get really desperate you could always call
911, or 999, or 000, 112, 110 – depends where I’m hiding

Can you find me – can you guess what I’ve got
Unlikely I’d say – you’re too big a clot
Rest for a moment – no – you’d best not
Everyone in the world wants – what’s in my pot

(Note: I may not have obeyed every single adjectival prompt request.)

Day 18 – silly Sunday, but a day early

Last week Silly Sunday was a day late, this week a day early. Next week will be the correct day I promise.

The reason I’m posting silly Sunday today is that the prompt for #TheDirtyThirty2020 (which I’m also doing this year, why, not sure, seemed an okay idea once upon a time) was limerick. For which I wrote two, both Coronavirus related. So in the efforts of saving time, energy, & getting back into bed sooner, I’m doubling up by posting here too. Technically since I wrote two limericks I’m covered anyway, but enough justification.

Also, what’s the record number of naps taken in one day? Asking for a friend.

*****

There once was a ship Ruby Princess
Whose arrival caused much distress
…..for most had a virus
…..but Dutton was desirous
At home they all should convalesce

There once was much talk of a curve
how now it’s flat we needn’t observe
…..cos we’re tired of inside
…..even if others must die
Which you gotta admit takes some kinda nerve

Day 17 — social isolation

Pretty self explanatory. Trying to play round with form & content.

*****

the distance we’ve been given

& then almost overnight
the whole world changed
& together we faced something
we hadn’t experienced before
(or at least not for a hundred years)

we learnt a new vocabulary
we distanced ourself socially
we focussed on curve flattening
we realised remembered perhaps
just because we’ve doing
something for a

few decades doesn’t

mean we

need to keep

___________________________________doing

_____________it

__________________________________that

______________________________________________________way

Day 16 — sick day

Today (yesterday as I type/upload this) was a tough day. Hump day I suppose. I worked on a few poems, some in the researching, some in the drafting, none really caught me or took off. I felt feverish & dizzy & headachy for long parts of the day, so in a way it makes sense that the pome I’m choosing to upload is about a medical condition relevant to cattle; & a lesser extent humans; though thankfully the number of cases for both have declined dramatically.

It’s basically the draft I had at 11pm yesterday when I gave up for the day & went to bed. It has been tidied & tweaked a bit, though I think it still needs work.

*****

mad cows

who would have suspected
when non-cannibal cows
eat ground up blood — or bones — or brains
of other cows — or sheep — or pigs
bad things might occur

i. Bovine Spongiform Encephalopathy (BSE)
physical transformations — abnormal gait : poor balance : loss of muscle control : coordination : tremors & hyper-responsive to stimuli : ataxia

changes in temperament & behaviour — becoming : aggressive : nervous : frenzied : anxious in certain conditions

as well as — weight loss, decreased milk production, lameness, ear infections : & teeth grinding caused by pain : persistent pacing : rubbing : licking

over : weeks & months : eventually recumbency : coma : death

ii. variant Creutzfeldt–Jakob disease (vCJD)
one man who caught the disease
from eating contaminated beef

— had trouble sleeping — his handwriting deteriorated — lost interest in trains, his lifelong passion — regularly fell down stairs — slurred his speech — forgot things, PIN cards — hallucinated — defecated in his clothes — died

all so that baby calves
could grow up quicker
be sent to market faster
be eaten sooner

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gareth roi's playful poetry place

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Tag Archives: NAPOWRIMO

Day 23 — Shakespeare & birds & eccentrics: but no rabbits

Day 21 — writing poetry with Rilke via Googletranslate

Day 20 — positive thinking while in lockdown

Day 16 — sick day

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