globalpoetrymonth

Battery-san

Blessed be the batteries

That run dry and die

Annoying at first but when nothing works

It allows a little blessed slattern-y

Dead toys, unbatteried, lazy-lie

A blessed reprieve on paying my bills

My only fear is the batteries lurk

In my pocket like cyanide pills

I’m doing National/Global Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo / GloPoWriMo) – write one poem, per day throughout April. Today’s prompt/challenge was to try a poem called a san san, which means “three three” in Chinese (It’s also a term of art in the game Go). The san san has some things in common with the tritina, including repetition and rhyme. In particular, the san san repeats, three times, each of three terms or images. The seven lines rhyme in the pattern a-b-c-a-b-d-c-d. My three things are batteries, die/dead/cyanide and blessed. (Please excuse my interchange of Chinese/Japanese with the title and pic – how rude!). Besides writing the poems themselves, one of the best things about NaPoWriMo has been learning about and trying out new forms of poems.

The Fortunate Ones

Respect! You show courage

And sometimes I forget

Your support is like the floor beneath me

I don’t look where I tread

Our swirling, whirling life

We never seem to stop

but pause, fleetingly, in slipstreams, shouting:

“We’ve really done a lot”

The way you face things, the man you are

And it’s not easy, marriage

I don’t say this often enough:

Respect! You show courage

I’m doing National/Global Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo / GloPoWriMo) – write one poem, per day throughout April. Today’s prompt/challenge for 13th April was this: the number 13 is often considered unlucky, so today I’d like to challenge you to beat the bad luck away with a poem inspired by fortune cookies.

Braised

Seems old-fashioned to braise

And none of the below

Make me reappraise

This thought. In fact

I’m not even sure on looking

What kind of cooking

Braising actually involves

Turnips: Braised and Glazed

Braised Celery – not a felony

Braised Fennel in Meat Juices with Cheese, if you please

Braised Stuffed Trotters, not a lotta demand (surely?)

Ladies and Gentlemen may I present: Braised Tongue with Madeira Sauce, why of course!

Braised Witlof, I shit not

braising

meat

vegetables

Brandied Cumquats… oops I went too far.

I’m doing National/Global Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo / GloPoWriMo) – write one poem, per day throughout April. Today’s prompt/challenge was to write an “ index poem” using found language from an actual index (or you could invent an index, like in this kickarse poem by Thomas Brendler they gave as an example). I used found words from the index of one of my favourite Australian classic cookbooks, Stephanie Alexander, The Cook’s Companion. AND YES I KNOW MY OVEN IS FILTHY!!

Morning song

Soft, stilldark early morning

birds’ small, individual rounds

chirping, tweeting, calling

create a wall of nature-sound

The trams surging up Schaffhauserstrasse

juddering scrape, metal wheels on rails

a sibilant symphony: electric power

near-majestic, benign strength prevails

Church bells bong quarterly

soundwaves hanging in the air

on the hour a vortex: echo-vibration, stereolocation

you almost see it shimmering there

The planes: further away, their churn

high-up, unmistakable

as toward tarmac or clouds they kern

ripping the sky, rippling by

My baby lets out a cry: 5am

down the hall in his room

he snuffles, goes quiet again

I don’t get up… but soon

Traffic noise, a distant soundtrack

underpins cities like cement

no one drives up our street yet

Still: the neverending improvement

The soft crunch of my duvet

as I stretch my legs in the warm bed

can’t sleep now should I choose it

I think about Sydney instead

I’m doing National/Global Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo / GloPoWriMo) – write one poem, per day throughout April. Today’s prompt/challenge was to write a poem in which you closely describe an object or place, and then end with a much more abstract line that doesn’t seemingly have anything to do with that object or place, but which, of course, really does.

Kids I know

Ava, Aria, Annie, Austin, Annabel, Amelia, Alice, Adrien, Arthur, Alexander, Alessandro, Ambrose, Argento

Eva Eve, Ena, Effie, Eliza, Elliot, Elliott, Elias, Eden, Eliana

Isaac, Indira, Isabelle, Indiana, Isla

Otto, Olivia, Oliver, Oscar

Quinn

Milla, Mila, Millie, Mio, Mia, Mira, Max, Molly, Matilda, Matthew, Michael, Magnus, Madeline, Miriam, Melody, Maible

Felix, Harvey, Hope

Tara, Thandi, Thomas, Tias, Theo

Gabriel, Gabrielle, Genivieve, Giselle, Georgie

Donovan, Daphne, Dusty, Dino

Lia, Lara, Leo, Leonie, Leonard, Lily, Lucinda, Luke, LJ

Percy, Peter, Priya

Cleo, Chloe, Calliope, Constance, Caolan, Carter

Ruben, Ruby, Rhoswen, Rory, Raphael

Kaspar

Sylvester, Simon, Sebastian, Sadie, Sas

Wolfe, Will, Vivienne

Jan, Juno, Joe, Beatrix, Bo

Zoe

I’m doing National/Global Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo / GloPoWriMo) – write one poem, per day throughout April. Today’s prompt/challenge was to write a “book spine” poem, which involves taking a look at your bookshelves, and writing down titles in order (or rearranging the titles) to create a poem. I did a slightly different take (and sorry if I forgot anyone!). Might try the book spine poem at some point though.

Hairy McClairey

This summer I could grow my hair

Shaggy pits, fuzzy pins and spider-legs down there

Show the kids what a real woman looks like

But the idea fills me with fright

Because of so many cultural tunes

And tho I wish myself immune,

There’s all this baggage in body follicles

Where smooth implies wherewithal

To deal with life: as woman and mother dear

While hairy says I’M NOT COPING, I fear

It shouldn’t be such a big deal

Yet, to me, the struggle is real

And I wish I was braver, to ditch the shaver…

Shallow, vain or just being ‘normal’?

Ugh! Even writing all this feels awful.

I’m doing National/Global Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo / GloPoWriMo) – write one poem, per day throughout April. Today’s prompt/challenge was to write a poem that includes a line you’re afraid to write. I’m not sure there’s one line here but the subject matter is something I’ve often wanted to write about but have felt uncomfortable with, so I guess I’m facing that fear! Not my best poem but perhaps a good challenge nonetheless.

Gardenia four ways

‘Gardenia,’ she sighed

With such pleasurable relish

That we bought the perfume she described.

I still wear it 10 years on

Gardenia in the cool shade of morning

On my grandmother’s high verandah

Planes shimmering by in the hot blue sky

that lovely scent, mingling with the frangipani below

I spy the handsome dark-green leaves and white flowers

In unromantic IKEA

That smell reminds me of my nana

Me too – of mine

We got home and she’d sent a letter

Describing a spider in the garden to her great-grandson

Exactly the sort of story he loves

And the fragrance of gardenia on our tiny terrasse

I’m doing National/Global Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo / GloPoWriMo) – write one poem, per day throughout April. Today’s prompt/challenge was to write a flower poem.

Ballet

Once again I’ve started dancing

She says ballet’s good for the soul

The muscles slowly remember

But there’s no time to remember

spirits past, future or present while dancing

Full concentration! Maximum participation! Ignore the soul!

But perhaps my soul

does remember

Even while body and mind focus on dancing

Surely the soul must always remember dancing?

I’m giving National/Global Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo / GloPoWriMo) a go – write one poem, per day throughout April. Today’s prompt/challenge was to write a tritina. A tritina involves three, three-line stanzas, and a final concluding line. Three “end words” are used to conclude the lines of each stanza, in a set pattern of ABC, CAB, BCA, and all three end words appear in the final line. This was a good challenge! 🙂

Alison

She has died
A spot of life and suburban lustre
In the periphery of my childhood

Nailpolish, cigarettes, lipstick, candles
Her small orange Meteor
That sat like a full stop at the end of our street

Her Esoteric book shop. Crystals and tapestry
Jewel colours and sunbursts. Was there macramé too?
It was the 80s

Millie the friendly white Labrador
The hot tub
A plush golden-brown corner lounge

Her bedroom, slightly exotic and the smell
of perfume, makeup, incense, cigarettes (she quit eventually, I think)
And champagne

Sharing a glass of wine with mum
At the end of the day
Now I know how lovely that is
To have a friend
Just down the road
Who’ll chat with you as the kids entertain themselves

Kindness
“She always said she could tell it was me at the door because of the way I knocked with the door knocker which made me feel strangely special”
says James

She once showed us the Godlight
shining through clouds above the ocean – not religious, but holy
I always call it that when I see it now

The holiday houses where we were welcome
Never too neat. Sand underfoot
Just perfect. Goodbye x

Kleidung

Ich habe meine Kleidung vertauscht

Es hat mir etwas traurig gemacht

So viele Kleidung, so viele Jahren alt

Und auch neu

Denn ist es Frühling

Ich bin krank mit ihnen

Sind sie krank mit mir?

I’m giving National/Global Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo / GloPoWriMo) a go – write one poem, per day throughout April. Today’s prompt didn’t work for me so I thought I’d try writing a poem in German because, fuck it.

clairevetica

poems, prose and pathways