This was written yesterday after a long day. First my regular Wednesday shift. Then working on a member of Film Club’s short film script for 2 hours in the afternoon, then 2 hours mentoring a local poet on a dozen poems from a collection she’s trying to work up into submission quality for chapbook-style competitions.
After writing it, I said I’ll just lie on my bed for a second to rest before I come back to set it up/post it on my website. Bwahahahaa. FLW. Of course I was asleep. Before 9pm for goodness sake. When I woke again at 1am I made the executive decision that it could wait till I upload tomorrow’s poem.
how i spent my last day with you
spent all morning watching that door waiting for you to descend those stairs cavort over here & tell me that somehow despite all the odds you do, yes indeed, do in fact love me
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.
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
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
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
Playing with a word I learnt last year and thought might make a good poem title (& hopefully poem).
The homesickness you have when you are still at home.
word & definition coined by Glenn Albrecht Australian philosopher & Professor of Sustainability
that peculiar form of distress that envelopes us in a misty kind of claustrophobic cling wrap when we see our homelands both lived & idealised lands which bring peace simply by being give us tranquility remind us to breath to hope to sit quietly & still & just
when we feel those lands callously destroyed paddocks ploughed under for another subdivision megahardware store or discount supermarket or cut open for coal or fracked set on fire covered in oil torn up by trucks
This is the poem I started writing yesterday till all the might have beens that never weremuscled its way out into the world mid-draft. I’ve gone back to it today & finished it off.
in firing range
despite insane frustration with inept governments : & debilitating rage at arrogant greedybloodhungry multinational corps’ ruthless relentless unabashed pillaging of the planet : part of me knows — i can’t really complain : for since that so long past : never forgotten : sunday : i too have failed to meet targets
failed to reduce emissions (though reducing consumption would be more benefit) : failed in every known dataset that supposedly counts : for something : in life : marriage : career : kids : success : legacy : wealth accumulation : financial security : et cetera : & : ad nauseum
for the longest time : failed to even notice i’d been trapped in a tomb : since the first of those soulharrowing three days : over three decades ago : the stone rolled back on me : unaware : unable to escape my darkness
the difference i suppose is my failure : has destroyed predominantly me : (with deepest apologies to a handful of beautiful people who were caught in the crosshairs of my grief) : whereas it is currently the world : being crucified now : & into the firing range : of the future
NB I'm really hating the new WordPress. It's repeatedly refusing to let me upload photos saying I'm not connected to the internet (even though I am & capable of opening other pages, watching youtube videos, etc. It's highly frustrating & causing the delays in posting.
in the back of memory
monks monophone softly as fish shivers pianoforte glockenspielling my spine
these tingling goldfish kiss
past present & forever
into one molten lovechant calcium dissolving moment
lift me up-in-to you
a been apart too long
old friend reminder
Some days a poem just writes itself. This was one such. From a few notes jotted while I was visiting my gran in her “retirement home”, the tone quickly established itself & made me laugh out loud as the various descriptions presented themselves.
in the quiet blue of my gran’s tiny
room a photo of a long-haired kiss-
curled cow-licked feminine-faced lout;
smug in a purple-striped shirt under
neath an all-white knitted jumper
(as was, I hope, vaguely fashionable
in the Miami Vice trashed late 80’s);
set off with a heart-shaped silver bolo-
tie for fuck’s sake although i recognise
his confident cock-eyed grin, his too-
smooth clean-cut chin, & once-pride&joy
full-but-already-thinning head of fine
wavy hair, my stomach double knots
in grief & pity — for he does not yet
know all he has, nor all he will lose