I'm not sure of their age, but here are some poems I found whilst fossicking around the back reaches of my 'puter.
Tip Haiku
driving to the tip
prickly pear and pine breakdance
in the rear vision mirror
*
car slews sideways
on black muddy tracks
grey sky streaked with gulls
*
backing the trailer
I jack-knife, straighten, back again
slam the door, unload
*
proud prickly pear and pine buried beside car bodies
*
leaving, all gulls gone,
black crows circle in the grey –
a yin-yang day
Man of the Match
It didn’t make the TV news
or the backpage of The West
but the news spread fast enough –
his mother told everyone:
You should’ve seen him!
I was so proud …
The TV news showed
a boy with his eye damaged,
a fatal road crash down south,
and a Royal shaking a commoner’s hand.
What a pity you missed it!
Of course, he bowled well,
did something good, not sure what,
but then he went out to bat,
number eleven or twelve …
I’m so proud of him!
Now she’s phoning distant cousins,
showing his backlift to butchers,
stopping shopkeepers with her tale.
He would’ve won the match only
they ran out of time or balls
or something. You should’ve seen him –
Whack! And away it’d go!
Yes? Oh. Just this lettuce thanks.
Cricket? Last week she said
it was a boring, dangerous game.
This week: You should’ve seen him!
I was so excited I spilt my coffee.
Now they break till mid-January –
I can’t wait! He was man-of-the-match –
Did I tell you?
Hot Days
in this town
summer days are songless
brute sun in a silent sky
banksias stand like stringless cellos
warbler whistles his choked phrase
from a melaleuca’s dry neck
in the cracked silence
a string player buries his fingers
in the soil
feeling for song
No comments:
Post a Comment