boys attract me?
good men instead
dangerous to know
pain and anger
Broken wings healed
here, some redeemed.
I sit, my belly boils
with the smallness of life
with my poetry
Outside, everything is dark
hide inside, afraid
or not afraid enough
I watch people walking around
anxious on their behalf
I am a worrier, overthink
everything, don’t know how
to turn it off. How will
I stay sane here alone?
How will I stay healthy
when everyone is a
It wouldn’t happen to me
Until it does.
It’s heated blanket and tea weather in Melbourne. Despite the government easing restrictions on social gatherings I’ve largely remained cocooned at home cooking and receiving delicious baked goods from friends.
I also thought it might be fun to publish my 2018 poetry chapbook as a free ebook for people looking for new content.
It’s a short, pithy, and potentially upsetting set of works, so please take care when reading.
Yesterday, 30 April 2020, was the last day of NaPoWriMo and I managed to complete my thirty poems in thirty days, as I have in years past. WooHoo!!
I didn’t manage to do a poem every day, there were a couple I missed, but I made them up the next day.
Many poems were about isolation and the weirdness that is the global environment at the moment, which I guess isn’t surprising, it takes up a lot of everyone’s brain-space at the moment.
I’ve increased my hours at the day job, working from home of course, and doing rehab for the broken ankle four days a week. And I’ve become obsessed with baking sourdough bread (haven’t we all).
So keeping myself very busy!
I’ve organised a virtual book launch for my new novel, ‘My Mother’s Secret’, due for release 1 June 2020. I’m still figuring out exactly what a virtual book launch involves, but feel free to come long and join me!
Pre-orders of the book are available on Amazon in e-book and paperback, and other good online book sellers.
The cold weather is coming
we’re locked in our houses
my brain no longer works
as it should – stuck
a needle on a record
skipping ‘round and ‘round
the same day repeated
Be creative, that will help pass the time
be disciplined, use the time wisely
but how can I when everything is
broken and dying?
The world is faded, grey
an old picture, a flashback
in a movie. Desaturated
technicolour of not seeing friends
lacking human touch, dulled lust
all that remains is blunt hunger
ever present and never satiated.
Wears a ‘F*ck the Police’ shirt to court wins case
Leaves job at Burger King, steals ‘all their nuggets’, because ‘f*ck it’
Spends four hours yelling at people from roof of Wendy’s in underwear
Gets tired of waiting at hospital, steals ambulance, drives home
Suspected of using private plane to draw giant radar penis
Tried to run to Bermuda an inflatable bubble, again
Plans to shoot down Hurricane Irma
Steals neighbours peacock, gets chased by angry birds
Breaks into jail to hang with friends
Ripped urinal from restaurant bathroom, ran away naked into woods
Arrested for eating pancakes in the middle of a crosswalk
Arrested for assaulting girlfriend with fried chicken
Calls 911 to report himself drink driving
Caught trying to smuggle dead alligator in car
Claims he’s the first man ever to vape semen
Should not be left unsupervised.
Inspired by today’s NaPoWriMo prompt.
Now we’re all staying home and not leaving the house for reals, I would like to invite you all to join me doing National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo).
I’ve done it a couple of times before and while some days are harder than others to produce a poem per day, I’ve come out the month with a number of good first drafts. Maureen Thorson, the founder and host, supplies prompts and inspiration for your daily poem.
I’ve been coming up with creative ways to fill my time now I can’t go out for coffee and I’m still not really allowed to walk (I was upgraded to 25% weight-bearing last week which was amazing, we we still have a way to go). I have set myself up with all the materials to paint a mural and I’ve spent a fair amount of time doing semi-intricate nail art projects.
My cover reveal should be ready soon for my upcoming novel, My Mother’s Secret, to be released on 1 June. I’ve done some of the background work and I’m excited to get my third book-baby out there.
Take care of yourselves during this difficult time, keep your mind and body active if you can, keep in touch with friends online, access support when you need it. I’m doing okay financially – my main job can be done from home and TAC is still paying me – but I know a lot of people are struggling with that as well as health and lock-in stress.
Be kind, stay inside, we’ll get through it.
We’ve entered the realm of Christmas parties and end-of-year celebrations. I had my work party last Wednesday – good chicken, disappointing dessert, my poetry group end-of-year do today and my writing group Christmas party tomorrow!
As we’ve done in the past, the poetry group visited the Ian Potter Centre at the National Gallery of Victoria to view the works in the hope of inspiring something poetic.
I spent some time sitting in front of these three works by Petrina Hicks: Fertile (2010), Into the abyss (2011), and Melo malo (2019).
Then I stood looking at this work, Force (1950-54), by Roger Kemp.
Finally I sat with this impressive sculpture, Hippolyta and the Amazons defeating Theseus (1933), by Jean Broome-Norton.
I wrote the bones of three ekphastic poems today. It’s more poetry than I’ve written in a long time, since I’ve been mainly working on prose. I hope to post some of the poems here on this blog once I get them polished up.
All the artists at the Ian Potter Centre are Australian, and all the works I viewed were in the free collection part of the gallery.
I can highly recommend hanging out in galleries with notebooks and writing whatever comes to mind. Take yourself on a date, or go with friends. You never know what might come of it.
A poem can start with anything
But seldom leads to any
Cause worth exploring
Don’t think about it
Everything is worth writing about
For yourself, or for someone else
Get the idea down, fix it later
However, you must remember
I can’t be the one to fix it
Joust wordily with your thoughts
Kill procrastination and fear
Let your mind speak directly
Move your fingers in the dance
Not concerned with the product
Only being in the moment
Pause and look out the window
Quiet night, sunset, thin scattered clouds
Right now is all there is
Some philosophies have
Theories about what comes afterwards
Utopias or torture chambers filled with
Violence and punishment but
Who was ever inspired by that?
Xenogamy of ideas, steal from everyone
You can do this! Just write
Zeal and persistence are all that’s needed.
I sit, headphones on, but no music playing
I can listen to things around me without attracting attention
The woman next to me on a phone call, the two men across
the way watching some code of football. Rugby I’d guess
based on the city I’m in. Slow revelation of meaning through
poetry has never been my strong suit. I don’t do well at
layering. I tend to put my subtexts into the main text.
If you were teaching my work, it would be easy for the
students. Although perhaps, as Judith Wright said,
I didn’t write that in there. Of course, the postmodernists
don’t care about the author so I suppose what I do
doesn’t really matter
The lighting is dulled, outside it’s dark, but like a casino
they don’t want too much reality seeping into an airport
People with different body clocks, different destinations
different languages, all want to sit, alone, protected from
other passengers by their books/laptops/phones/ear buds
There is half an hour until I head home
away from one family and back to another
I have created a life and a home – a settled little
nest. Friends have flown to create new nests with
new lives and young lives in tow. No one to greet me
at the airport this time, just long-term parking and
the promise of sleep in my very own bed.