As the title says.
*****
perfect relationship
when my parents retire
dad wants to live in darwin
mum in cradle mountain
mum says they’ll meet
for a month in the middle
(in our country’s
so-called dead heart)
every five or so years
& it’ll be the perfect
relationship, lol
Been reading some Emily Dickinson over the past 24 hours, so the layout of this poem has been affected by her typographic style with her Capricious Capitalisation & Extravagant Dashes. (I’d unconsciously kind of half-imitated it in my first draft, & when I realised I thought what the heck & pushed it a bit more.) Still in her early stuff, so the poems I’ve read haven’t really got the dashes working in full swing as she later did. (Which suits me just fine in this pome hahaha.)
obsolete soundtrack
it is now One Week —
since we Last Spoke
& I’m Bravely — Listening
to my Special Playlist
Made to Help me
get Through those
Bucolic Times when I
was simply — Missing
You because we
Hadn’t spoken —
In half a day —
Or Whathaveyou
Not sure how
I’ll Make It —
Through these
Thirteen songs
— Ever Again!
A quick & tasty poem after a long first day back at work after my sick weekend. (It’s one thing to flesh up a poem over the course of several hours, then tweak polish & post it before climbing back into bed — it’s another thing altogether to craft one late at night after working two long shifts.) Despite that, I’m pleased with this one too.
cocos vox
if voices
were biscuits
yours would be
freshly-baked
Monte Carlos
with homemade
raspberry jam
& cream centres
if we’ve spoken
that day
— but more like
my grandmother’s
special recipe dark
chocolate biscuits
dipped in even
darker chocolate
with mint on top
if i haven’t heard it
in too long a time
Pretty self-explanatory.
fireflies
all the things
we said we’d do
long slow trips round
oz’s wide open roads
revisit our favourite corners
of hobbit-country : discover new ones
christmas in talinn
a cabin under the aurora
form our own theatre
company crisscross our plays
round the country
take on : the world
tell more of our stories
to each other
perhaps possibly perchance
find peace
but i didn’t even get to see : the fireflies
down the bottom of your back yard
Today really is symbolic of more than just one loss: it’s a conglomeration of three anniversaries in one. The other two (one in June, one in July) grieve me too — but as they do not fall within Glo/NaPoWriMo they don’t usually get poems written about them. (Though the days of the FoG aren’t the only times poems get written or thoughts get thought about this topic).
Given this month’s theme is love I’ve decided to deliberately include all three griefs in one poem. On the plus side, there are a multiplicity of loves on display within the poem, so it works on many levels.
Today’s poem is paired with one I wrote 28 years ago. It is included as bonus: an Easter egg if you like, not that you have to look too hard to find it.
advice from a fish
although today
commemorates
the first loss
you’re in countless
poems, plays, story ideas
all three of you
for endless sorrowfilled years
i wore your rings
round my neck
till they got
too heavy to endure
& i was told
by the fish
for my own sanity
take them off
you knew too well
without the self-flagellation
of my despair
*****
BONUS POEM:
3 silver rings
around her neck
she wears three silver rings
on a gold chain
& crucifix
one, a rose
one, a gallic cross
& one, all stars & moons
one each
for every child
which never was
Northing much needs to be said about today’s poem.
the distance between us
when you fly over it : really is extreme : but we’re talking : more : than mere geography : more than : dry flood plains : & barren dirt : for despite the multitude : of commonalities : we gleefully discovered : initially : it seems : different :: lifestyles : environments : modes of communication : (one of us : is loquacious : overshares ; one only gives : information : when crowbarred out) : risk-taking : bravery quotients : willingness to dream : desires for happiness : even : love levels itself
: mean :
since this morning : our souls tread softly : on the shells of grey : shrike-thrush eggs : crushing all song
My two wallowversaries are quite close together this year — Good Friday & Easter Sunday. GF being Day 1 of the Festival of Grief, ES Day 2. Each year I don’t know whether I’ll write about my grief on the date it happened or the day. Some years it’s both. The interesting thing about choosing a theme for the month is it makes me approach topics I’ve written about countless times with fresh eyes. Such as this …
to pin a wish
my only-ever astral child
my first star girl
my free spirit
my whispered wish
only briefly tethered
postmarked but never delivered
addressed but never sent
never faded
never dimmed
always present
in my heart
would’ve loved you
with my whole soul
every ether of being
guided you from child
to woman as best i
cradled you
comforted you
held eggshell close
gifted free range
love love loved
walked you down
any aisle — assuming
i could see given
my eyes are waterfalls
simply imagining
such moments
the first wish i’d make
if any benevolent genie
ever give me a chance
my beautiful wondrous
astral-only child
my heart was torn away
the day you ran red
down your mother’s legs
Lucky enough to see a dozen of these over the past couple of days. Even somehow managed to secure some photos which is pretty cool given how flitterfast they are.
bright blue symbolism
bursts of bright blue : electric flashes : which seem to steal : all light : from the surrounding air : just as it sucks : all air : from my lungs
wingspan as wide : as my hand : intense iridescence : for a moment : then gone
if love : was a colour : it would be this blue : this azurite brilliance : distillate of endless Australian sky : emperor of blue
the males : aren’t all that bright : being strongly attracted : to anything blue : mistaking mere colour : for females
despite my best : intentions : i see symbols : in everything
During NaPoWriMo there are a plethora of sites & groups publishing writing prompts to help poets overcome the terrifying prospect of the blank screen or page day after day for 30 straight days. I rarely have a problem finding a topic but I usually check out what the prompts are in the groups I’m part of, just to see if there’s anything that interests me.
An Australian-run group called The Dirty Thirty’s chosen topic today was myth. The number 13 is lucky and scary and shrouded in myth. So today, let’s talk myths. In your poem, find creative ways to include the actual story your myth was based on.
This is manna from heaven for me & I immediately thought of one of my go to topics: the myth of Orpheus & Eurydice. I love this topic so much that I have several books devoted to the subject & I’ve written at least a dozen poems around the theme; the best of which I one day hope to publish as a chapbook or suite of poems (as part of a bigger volume) called songs of under earth.
The Death of Orpheus
after many years : wandering : ever-mourning : his lost Eurydice : Orpheus worshipped : only the Apollo-sun
one morning : at the Dionysian oracle : on Mount Pangaion : while greeting dawn’s rosy fingers : with his peerless lyre-playing : as part of his : daily sun god salute : the Maenads : resenting Orpheus’ refusal : to honour : his previous patron : sought to harm him : threw sticks & stones : yet the lilt : of his music : was so sublime : & so strong : the rocks & branches : refused to strike
enraged : they threw themselves : instead : in a furioso frenzy : ripping : rending : wrenching : his mortal body : to shreds : blood lust madness : engulfing them all
when the women : who tore him apart : tried to cleanse : their gore-covered hands : the river sank : below ground
as did : Orpheus’ shade : finally : to be reunited
Some relationships seem to throw more challenges in your way than seem completely reasonable. Today’s challenge: the possibility of a positive Covid test.
rollercoaster
surely the thrill
of the rollercoaster
(such as it is)
is that it’s only
meant to be
a wild ride
not a lifestyle
gareth roi poet boi 