January 13

I am not particularly inspired today. This sketch requires work, but I am posting it anyway, as the exercise of writing daily is about discipline rather than brilliance.

Old Age

Tears like rain
Slide down her cheeks
She does not
How her life has come to be
Defined by clocks and locked doors

January 12

Inspired by an afternoon at the pool with my children. A shadorma (Spanish form that is a little like a haiku).

Sparkly blue
mirroring the sun
At the pool
Rainbow clad
Children shimmer like minnows
Voices shrill with joy

Above them,
the plaintive cries of
open mouthed
wagtail chicks
Are barely noticed in the
wild cacophony

January 11

Another abcedarian poem.

Altogether desolate
Being in this hospital room, as you sleep on a
Colourless bed, your body small and
Even as you lie there,  I
Fear you (childishly) although you are so far
Gone that nothing could
Happen now.
I watch your slumbering form and I am
Jumpy, as you did not treat me with
Kid gloves
Last time I saw you.

Might not be so hard to take, but
Now I am an adult, it is supposed to be different.
Of course I should not expect more, and to be
Perfectly honest, I don’t.
Quite the opposite. But I can’t
Reach you or read you and it really is
Shattering to see your mind
Tormented like the sheets that twist  around you, and I am
Uncertain whether or not the
eXile you forever
You have suffered enough to drive us both

January 10

An Abcedarian poem (every line has to start with a letter of the alphabet, in order).

About ten thirty it was, she remembers

Because Rage was on the TV and she had been

Cosy on the couch

Doona around her shoulders

Embers of a cigarette 

Falling on the floor

‘Get on with it.’ 

His voice harsh and hoarse

Ice in his eyes as he

Jammed the pills down his throat and hers

‘’K,’ she had said, wondering if she should

Leave him, but she had lost so much already.

‘Melbourne please,’ and they had sat down

Next to the window, but he was 

Off his seat

Pacing and paranoid, while she sat

Quietly, feeling warmth in her blood and the sweet

Rocking of the train as it raced through the dark

Suburban streets, slick with sheets of rain

‘Time for a drink,’ and he had tugged her

Under an umbrella and into a bar – and that was when she had started on the

Vodka, and he kept 

Washing down pills with whisky, and now it kills her that she can’t remember the 

eXact moment when she found him, so cold in the pale

Yellow lamp light on the

Zebra crossing

January 8

This is another ‘Found Poem’. I have drawn phrases from a number of quotes by Tony Abbott and rearranged them into a poem of sorts. A little naughty, but I had fun putting it together.

Housewives of Australia
have a bit of sex appeal
very connected
young, feisty
I probably feel a bit threatened

We always have
Enormous numbers of women
They are different
simply doing housework
Focused on the household budget
As they do the ironing
It’s folly to think they will ever dominate
I don’t think its a bad thing at all
The most convenient exit
From awkward situations
The easy way out
To be on Team Australia’s shirtfront
A place for everything
Not everyone’s place
I don’t have any magic answers