We stand by the school gate, pasted around with framed faces. She is talkative. He is European. And the other one is mostly silent, somewhat of a black sheep. I feel like a black sheep too, not even daring to hope for happiness. I lean against the fence, my aching hips and the how-to-vote cards … Continue reading Election Day
Bring in the coroner. Let her stand before the court and speak. "Thank you, Your Honour and all the grand, wise jury. Here are my findings: What sinks is not the eye blue and white as granny’s delftware beside the tall vase of fresias: pretty things (our frames and lockets) get preserved for viewing, taken … Continue reading The Last Witness
(hopefully brief) we are all but sharks in the planet’s glowing tides snapping at spilled blood and exhausted by a need to grow teeth some days a deep breath means looking up... missing keystones and folded tower-blades, all in the seven greys of a dead fish, clouds raked into piles and societies bent low, as … Continue reading a failure in optimism
"The Roaster" by Pablo Picasso this one feather-struck and cock-eyed and tongue hard-wired to drunken yell yodel yay eeeeee! he says do you love it? my self-portrait it's the psychedelic '70s so you see i am the dawn, ladies from wishbone to tail feather i am the dawn hear me roar he tapes himself on … Continue reading Disillusioned
A Villanelle I have no interest in the news in which I can’t find a marbled fact, just people with power spouting views I feel I have to hunt for clues where truth and fiction interact I have no interest in the news I want hope, tea with kindness, light diffuse; not lies like eggshells: … Continue reading No News Nancy
Write about the weather in Present Tense These last few days, everyone is saying “Thank goodness for the sun!” People are stretching like cats, long skin and whiskers pleased. It’s true the summer has been a wet one. Canberra wringing in a wet towel, warmth like dogs breath fogging up the sky. Mosquitoes are having … Continue reading #Go Dog Go Haibun Wednesday
Standing Firm Claude Monet "Woman with a Parasol, Madame Monet and Her Son" See darling, the ragged clouds how God has breathed like Papa’s pipe smoke and torn the sky this wind is Earth’s inkling of the will of God turn your face into it and give thanks for its flat palms and softened fingers … Continue reading #Ekphrastic Poem dVerse
If I cut off my much-abused left side I’d instantly be heartless and one-eyed. What an achievement, what a gem! I’d have the makings of PM!
Corn’s done. Peck Peck. Time for bed. More room tonight Dom, Dom. Did you hear, Dom Dom? did you hear about Gladys? Gladys? Eating eggs, yes eating eggs they say. Silly old Gladys. Silly girl. Eating eggs. She knows the rules. Greedy Gladys, Egg peckery, Dom Dom. Up before the Ipeck. It won’t happen again, … Continue reading Chook Gossip
she said: "journalism is an omlette broken eggs and the mothering dreams of cows" "social media fry-up" he objected graphite eyes among candles "truth is cartilage the bend makes us beautiful" merlot flame in glasses glowed his stone her fire and the blackening between Written for De Jackson's dVerse Quadrille Monday #137 - "Stone"
It was said that all things must pass: the big wheels turning, turning over the drought-lands, the down-and-out lands cattle skeletons ploughed in like rotted ships fence-posts - frayed and far-fetched zippers - dragging lines of wind-sawn wire – dun and drear the fierce fires rolling, roiling wanton flames - the lunge and buck, the … Continue reading Things that Pass
bare little tree - small bird's nest revealed (we imagine a goose one webbed foot curved to twiggy bowl, the other flaps about rowing the air honk! honk! her arm through mine enjoying a giggle). geese 'V' on high but we can't fly. we gallop the drawn lines our dog and our masks. blue sky … Continue reading the goose and the magpie nest
Soldiers (and not only you) they may lie before you die they may lie again when your speechless body is in earth's pouch the close, dark hug of it... your life given for a cause... not yours. Lies are the wounds in all our histories suppurating as tiny texts in little known museums or finding … Continue reading Truth
crude wooden tripods stand tethered human pendulums swinging amongst fumes and fuming damming politicians and incandescent commuters damming the city’s arteries a timely attack the heart on the hill* bloodless while the body rages taut fists enacting death throes of a planet in need *Australia's Parliament House is commonly referred to as "the house on … Continue reading Extinction Rebellion
it was committed to the earth. I think: to search for worms; that the dead are thermometers of our Earth this friable literature this soft and pleasingly dark loam poem buried there giving birth in time to a soliloquy of flowers to say and sway as nature does comfortably green
August follows from a grey and fearful July – the closed hatch of cities in lock-down. Concrete and buildings hunkered under shifty, flannelette skies. The grime of recycled messages from haggard, mesh-faced leaders. Closed front doors, a stultifying blank. Resentment breeds as fast as the virus itself. Different areas, different rules. Anger like pavement cracks … Continue reading August – Haibun Monday
The river rolls and whispers to me of gentle whorls and rhythms free this joyous ride, journey d’espirit to find the sea, to find the sea. But underneath this joie de vivre is tumbled sand and grinding scree, a world of strict conformity. No pebble’s free. No pebble’s free. Sharp edges worn over the years, … Continue reading The River
who is she? face like mine but aged in a tiny sudden way surprising as a pond - murky water turned mother of pearl a dance-floor for the sky time is a galaxy pinpointed and vast I find security counting frost hairs around a leaf; photographing rain drops in the puddles the trees swing deep … Continue reading reflections
the Romans feathered helmets erect learned the sterility of war their Empire's wondrous landmarks became punctuation in history's soil their roads crossed continents in massive webs their confidence still glimmers in ancient armour and upturned pillars but now, we're in dress-rehearsal writing history our age split asunder by tablets lit with green-glowing back-turned candles - … Continue reading Different Century, Same…?
So this is what I wrote 12 months ago on July 9th. A lot has changed and nothing has changed. In Australia, it is Sydney, not Melbourne in Lockdown and facing a new, more contagious form of the virus. I know a lot more people in Sydney than I do in Melbourne and I hear more of the strains of the Lockdown. It’s not easy. But, having been a bit self congratulatory early on, I think Berejiklian has knuckled down and accepted that this is going to be harder than she thought.
Biden is now president in the US and I gather that, in terms of COVID, things are improving.
But personally, last year seems like a doddle compared to 2021. Everything is relative.
As Victoria rushes to stem the tide of COVID, other Australian states look on, both sympathetic and protective of their own safety. Borders are closing. The Queenslanders (with the whole of New South Wales between them and Victoria) even suspect Victorians of smuggling themselves across the border on freight trucks. Maybe it’s true but it seems unbelievable to me.
This year is unbelievable.
World politics is unbelievable.
In the US, the numbers are terrifying. Over 1600 deaths in the last two days and 61,848 new cases just yesterday. P showed me the graphs.
He made the remark that during two days in April, more people died of COVID19 than died in the September 11 attacks in 2001.
And yet Trump still glosses over it and congratulates himself on saving thousands of lives.
Will the dead be remembered every year in memorials all over the country? Will the doctors who tried…
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It is no lie that the scrunched fists and inexpert fingers which carved shapes respresenting language, wrought the shapes from privilege causing materials and education to come at a price beyond the common hut dweller. Secrets and power, bore out, stamped and sealed with gold kept for selected audiences. They took their blocks and then … Continue reading And They Wrote the World
(i) Words are like glass jars, my friend. At some point, their being empty becomes blatantly obvious. (ii) i cannot see at all this place is steamy Now you're cooking with gas and it feels like nobody is watching A month or so ago, somebody posted a prompt that involved finding an old poem and … Continue reading To the PM
Balance on one toe on the tip an iceberg “the arctic is on fire” on the tipping point tippy toe tip slipping “Global GDP to fall 25 per cent without more climate action, banks warn” precarious not falling but feeling the feeling “the most severe physical and economic impacts of climate change.” the dizzy wait … Continue reading On the Tip
Fenny Fawcett ran a factory printing fiction and fantasy but while enjoying fanciful fiction, she also liked her facts, you see. ** Fiction claimed as fact, she could only view as fallacy and she fought this fact confection with significant potency. ** Fenny started fracking for fiction in our history and finally formed a faction … Continue reading Fenny’s Fact Story
You'll probably recognise the tune this goes with: Hush little Aussies, you've nothing to fear Scotty's giving gifts before election year If you vote blue, not red or green Scotty will get you the fastest vaccine. If that fastest vaccine won't ship Scotty's gonna get you a Natural Gas drip. If that gas is industry … Continue reading Hush Little Aussies
I spend a lot of time listening to podcasts and among the ones I really like is “How to Fail with Elizabeth Day”. Elizabeth Day (author and journalist) interviews successful people (often mini celebs, on the internet if nowhere else). Not being a twitter user and not being British and just generally living largely under … Continue reading The Moneyarchy
There once was a man who had a propensity to say stupid things with vapid intensity Some wished him to fail so they created a scale to measure the extent of his extreme presidensity.
Recently, my parents acquired a book put together by their community about the fires and then the floods which swept through the area last summer. People contributed photos and stories of their experiences. The book shows humans doing their best in a world turned totally crazy. On their faces are fear, sadness, determination, and hope. … Continue reading An Instant Library
Fandango’s Flashback Friday (only I’m late because we were away for the weekend) suggests posting a blog from this date on a previous year. I don’t have Friday’s exact date but this is only one day out. I hope you enjoy…
I
hate this wind and the brown sky and the pluming brown dust and the
brown, brown oval… except where the sprinkler has leaked and there
is a patch of rich green – a puddle reflecting what used to be.
The
scraping leaves exfoliate my heart like an acid. On days like to
today (today, when it was supposed to rain) I find it so hard to
believe that everything will be okay.
As
I walked this morning, a few spats of rain found their way to the
ground, like salt on a meal. When I got home I looked at the radar.
Down south, there is rain. So that is something.
Yesterday
at the fruit shop, the cashier lady, just returned from 6 weeks “at
home” in Bhutan commented that “compared to home, Australia is a
desert”. She landed, on Friday, in Sydney, thinking it an overcast
day, expecting…
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He says: "We need to be honest with the Australian people about the costs of committing to net zero carbon by 2050." The vapour rises from his words, the steaming stink of them. Even honesty has two sides. Just one little "not" and the statement is even more relevant: "We need to be honest with … Continue reading Full Steam A… Which Way?
Out of the Cave 