The dingo and the moon

Content warning for the sensitive. Strong language and images. I wrote this piece at some time during the 1970's, when I was clearly an angry young man, and only recently re-discovered a hand-written version. At about the same time I discovered the Ship Street Poetry site, which encourages freedom of expression using whatever language you …

Snarky snickersnackery

This preposterous piece of poetic puerility was written for the divine Ms. Owen's 'A Mused Poetry' prompt for this week: 'Snarky Rant. That's right: a jaded, sarcastic, fed up, perhaps even nihilistic poem in an "I stick it to you, sucky events!" manner.' I'll thank Charles Dodgson for the inspiration when next I see him. The …

Remember not and remember

I have just re-discovered this piece I wrote for my wife, Sue, when her beloved younger brother was facing his final days with us. Remember not his lostness in space, his days, numbered and unnumbered, annihilated through ingestion, his false stairways climbed in hope of heaven his roads travelled to others’ horizons; he knew the …

Black, white and brindle truth

If you are sensitive about your beliefs then I'm not quite sure why you are following this blog. Nevertheless, this piece is more challenging and requires deeper thought than most. I look forward to your comments. All people of colour have a deep spiritual connection to the land of their ancestors. Never trust a black …

Me, you and him: A study in disability

Yesterday, before we planned the future, I watched you scan the room and discretely re-arrange it to make his wheelchair entry as smooth as your own. As the room talked, you led the listening to him and planted your thoughts on the borders of his lifetime garden. At some signal I did not see, the …

Momentous times

For my wife, Sue. There are no bricks and mortar to stand in place of a life lived not for the moment but in the moment so that all times are momentous. If your life is to simply stand still, then be still. If it is to be simple then let it be simple. Who …

New Poets 21

Proud to have been part of the launch of Friendly Street's New Poets 21 collection last night, in company with Tarla Ritchie and Mark Kramer. If you'd like to buy a copy, they're a bit old school on payments and there are no e-book versions available but we'd all be pleased if you could see …

What’s a metaphor you, alphabetically speaking?

You're like: Abseiling (if you could teach an abalone to seil) Busking in Brunswick with a balalaika, Cats who only eat Dine, Dancing (strictly no ballroom), Ease (only accomplished without practice) Fencing without a face mask, G, but with no strings attached, Honesty (often unseemly and embarrassing), Intelligence (seldom found disappearing up itself), Joy (beware …

A mother’s lament

In the outer suburbs, in the space between the bush and the town, therapy is what you get from a physio. When the cracks appear in the plaster and they start to match up with your mind, because the foundations have slipped, you ask not for whom the telephone bell tolls because it never tolls …

Some morsels of pasticherie

Sonnet: Be still, my swell-ed heart I did but see her glassy-eyed, astride her pied ride as she wended to her home sighing in her saddle set to the side, clutching her cask of wine to her bos-ome Full sore my lovesick heart (and other parts) swell-ed as Cupid’s arrow shrived my mortal soul and …