Tag Archives: poetry

Fiction Friday – rain

rain

in the evening, the rain falls/ punctuating the pergola roof/ what if rain/ was the language of God/ the tongue of tactile vernacular/ we wait within the silences of drought/ sitting with our commission and omission/ afraid of the deluge of the flood/ holding a cup to catch holy water/ to slake our thirst

The Dead Letter Office – A Pome

Author’s Note: Sometimes a random reading will lead to random inspiration and a random result. I like this way.

Create an imaginary friend.

Find a newsagent and buy a postcard. Send it to them.

Whenever the fancy takes you, you buy another postcard from a local convenience store or tourist shop and tell your imaginary friend you were thinking of them and hope they are well.

On a holiday to the beach up the coast, you buy a postcard each morning and tell your imaginary friend the ins and outs of work, the minor procedure you had last autumn and that you’ve taken up running. Each evening you post it.

One day you find a postcard that is a little suggestive, perhaps raunchy, and with trembling hand you write to your imaginary friend that you’ve been thinking of them. You’ll let yourself imagine they are your lover, and fantasise, and then consummate the idea at home. Later you’ll write a breakup postcard but you say you’ll hope to remain friends.

A few years will go by and the urge to write to your imaginary friend will pierce your stomach as you watch a gig at a local café. You write a note on a serviette as an apology.

The distance between postcards lengthens, stretching out to fathoms, and finding a working pen in the house is a miracle.

One day, you will realise you stopped writing to your friend. Regrets hurt.

Finally, as a salve, you will sit down and write a lengthy letter to your friend, taking the thoughts  from the shelves of your mind, and cataloguing them as museum pieces for an audience of one because it will help if someone knows the truth.

Set aside packs of postcards and pens for your funeral.

Advent – A Waiting

Advent
A waiting…
an anticipation…
about hope, of hope, and for hope
for our success, our health, our dreams and visions
a pregnant waiting and pause
believing for the fulfilment
to hold that one thing in our arms.
In the meantime,
send the text
ask the question(s)
pick up their groceries
mow their lawn
fold their laundry
make them cups of tea
and the time of hopeful waiting
will be shared, encouraged, unburdened
because you have loved your neighbour
as yourself.

(frangipani flower photo taken in my garden)

A Christmas Wishlist

Random list poem inspired by something I saw about all of us being the same.

Things To Do While Sitting With Fear

Things To Do While Sitting With Fear

Wait until it’s dark. Step out the back door and turn on the light. See how far the light travels across the backyard. It reaches the garden shed and the lemon tree and the trampoline. This is the measure of where you feel safe because of what you can see. See that the snails have climbed up the fence because rain is coming. Wait for the possum with its baby to scurry across the top of the fence. Prophets know how to read the signs.

Boundaries are not unlike this.

The night is a curtain, drawn to limit your view. You know what lies in the shadows behind the lemon tree and the trampoline: leftover bricks and roofing tiles and stacks of black plastic pots. The garden shed is a mausoleum of lawnmowers and garden tools, sundry odds and sods, bags of potting mix and stakes for the tomatoes you’ve been meaning to plant each season.

Perception is not unlike this.

Stand against the west wall of the house when the sun sets and feel the heat baked into the bricks sear your back as your face cools in the evening air. Stand there again in the morning as the sun begins to rise and absorb the coldness into your back as your face warms.

Shame is not unlike this.

Seek out where the swallows roost in the underground car park at the shops. Their movements remind you of how the carpark looks during the busiest shopping hours. The lorikeets wait until dusk to settle in the tree outside the TAB. These are the parentheses of our days.

Uncertainty is not unlike this.

The shadow you carry through the valley is the same shadow you carry to the mountain top.Let the shadow’s long fingers collect the cobwebs from the cornice in the ceiling and make fairy floss from it. The shadow will offer it to you. You eat it.

Disappointment is not unlike this.

Go into the garden and look for ladybugs. You will find a stick insect instead. Watch the bees in the flowers. Listen to them.

Expectation is not unlike this.

The lemon tree will produce fruit whether you tend to it or not and one day you will make friends with the weight of fear.

Things To Do When Sitting With Doubt

Things To Do While Sitting With Doubt

when you read the instructions, “Open Other End,” on the box of Pizza Shapes, you know for certain you will flip the box over but won’t trust yourself to follow your heart. create a playlist for your wake and make mixtapes to give to people now. teach yourself macrame and after you’re done tying yourself in knots realise you made something beautiful. water the plants when you are thirsty. write the grocery list and make it a hymn to the mundane. eat your meal with a candle (the good ones, the smelly ones you saved for special occasions) for no other reason than to see how far light travels in the dark. read Macbeth then Hamlet and be certain you don’t know the way forward. read The Tempest and The Road as the antidote. sort through the sock drawer and throw out the old pairs and the holey ones. make pairs of mismatched socks. go skinny dipping and experience baptism in the ordinary act of bathing. read the doctor’s letter and pretend it is a breakup letter to the illness ravaging your body and not a statement of irrefutable facts. go to Macca’s and order the burger you have never tried (the Filet-o-Fish) and know that this is what disappoint will taste like in the drive-thru. know that breadcrumbs are for cooking, not leaving a trail. learn why the rod and staff were the shepherd’s tools. wield them and master them for, and over, yourself. sit in the valley and sit on the mountain top and know both are places of vision. one is a mirror and the other is a lens. perspective will tell you which one to choose and let you change the way you see yourself.

A Late-Night Internet Search. And Some Answers.


How many Post It Notes will it take to cover a square kilometre?
– 13,157,894 (or 31,328 packets of 6×70 pieces of the 76x76mm)
How much will it cost to do it?
– A packet of 6×70 is $16.98 from Officeworks.
– Total is $531,949.44
How many memories can I fit on a Post It Note if I write really small?
– As many angels as fit on the head of a pin.
If I write one memory a day on a Post It Note, how long would it take to cover a square kilometre?
– 36,049 years.
Does the act of writing the memory allow you to forget or remember more clearly?
Does the act of writing the memory mean alternate narratives are anathema?
How many embarrassing memories does it take to form your character?
Can you die from too many embarrassing memories?
How many papercuts will make you bleed to death and can I use Post It Notes?
– One. If you cut in the right place.
I think I have enough Post It Notes.

Word for the Year 2022

Welcome to The Drum and Page.

If my desk was named like an English pub, it would be The Drum and Page. My writing collaborator, Jodi, calls her place, The Dog And Book. Therefore I am renaming my work space like an English pub even though I live in Australia. It simply sounds better. What would your creative space be called?

I digress but this initial tangent leads me to my WORD OF THE YEAR.

Each year I choose a word to help guide and direct me. They are written on a Post It Note and stuck to the wall above my desk. Last year I had two words: “limitless” and “breakthrough.” I found success in these two words in the release of my chapbook, Mount Pleasant, in February, and winning a local writing competition about the middle of the year. I kept writing and drawing, sifting through the what was to see what would be.

This year, the word is RELENTLESS.

It will take a year to explore the nuances of this word and what it means for me. And that will be an awfully grand adventure.

It’s a word to apply to my creative life through writing and drawing, and will have application to the spiritual, emotional/mental, and physical aspects of my life. I don’t know what the final outcome will be at the end of 2022. I may have made no progress other than developing my creative practice. I may have opportunities to explore because I asked about a collaboration, or I put in an application for a writing mentorship, or I submitted work for publication and only received rejections. I don’t know. But I will be relentless in my pursuit of this creative life.

Grace and peace be upon you all from the desk of The Drum and Page.

Did Your Existential Crisis Come With…?

In a lunch break between marking assessment tasks, I posted a photo I had taken in the morning (and doctored) and started with this question, “Did your existential crisis come with…?” and I intended to write a few witticisms.

It took on a life of its own.

This is how it ended up.

Did your existential crisis come with
A) free steak knives
B) a side order of chips
C) shoes that don’t give you blisters
D) extra marking of assessments
E) ill-fitting underpants
F) the playful observation of Berocca fizzing in a glass of water
G) guessing how many jellybeans are in the jar
H) exceptional Excel spreadsheet capabilities
I) looking good in glasses
J) obscure hobbies and interests
K) the satisfaction of picking your nose
L) drinking a hot beverage without it going cold
M) making the perfect fart noise with your mouth
N) not throwing up. Ever.
O) understanding the clinical benefits of ice baths but choosing not to have one
P) acne in middle age
Q) predicting the guilty person in a crime show
R) alphabetising stupid lists
S) using humour to disguise an overwhelming sense of individual doubt and fear
T) picking ripe fruit at the grocery store
U) being able to recite your favourite musical verbatim
V) never being able to find a convenient parking spot
W) reliving personal embarrassing moments in your head and providing scathing personal commentary
X) knowing faith and doubt make wonderful conversationalists
Y) wondering if you started something earlier how different might things be now
Z) being able to let it go

Possible Observations to Consider About Life Through the Metaphor of Food

Possible Observations to Consider About Life Through the Metaphor of Food

the dehydrated pea rattling around an empty plastic bottle
makes a great rattle for a child but
represents the entirety of your mortality

a secret being told to you
is the opening of a packet of chocolate biscuits
and you scoff the lot

doubt sticks to the roof of your mouth
like a fresh white bread and peanut butter sandwich
after adding a layer of butter as an undercoat

you take your tea with milk and sugar
same as your father
and recycle the teabag to make another cup