simple adding and subtracting
January 28, 2010 at 6:22 pm | Posted in australian poetry, poetry, sheer selfindulgence, writing | 10 CommentsTags: writing for fun
last year i took away a word ‘gravity’
.I’m not so sure that was a good idea
now. I think I will add a few like ‘eucalypt’.
It looks like an anagram which as a tanka began,
(I like the way in this version ‘.I’m’ sits directly above ‘now.’ which makes a small poem inside the larger poem. A tanka officially has a structure. The number of syllabubbles in each line is supposed to be, 5, 7, 5, 7, 7. Although it should be noted that the difference in the basic structure of Japanese and English raises the question of whether these syllable restrictions have much meaning. There are some who suggest the idea or the mood of forms like tanka and haiku are more important than syllable counting. Anyway, that is a long discussion, it has been going on for as long as I have been around. Here is the original poem, changed a little to fit a formal tanka structure. It is interesting to me that the central line is like a version of the tiny poem contained in the first version.)
Last year took away
a word ‘gravity’ not so
sure that was a good
idea now i think i
will add a few like eu ca
lypt looks like an anagram
which as a tanka began
Australia Day 2010
January 26, 2010 at 8:39 am | Posted in australian poetry | 21 CommentsTags: australia day, beginning, poetry, writing
Soon I will have to extend my walking
into running,
Today observed a citizenship ceremony
which made me smile.
The hibiscus are in bloom and worn with pride
and children dancing with impatience.
There was a cruise ship in the docks,
sparkling white fresh from the pacific.
The river is plumptious.
I am happy.
Getting behind the bid.
January 19, 2010 at 7:39 am | Posted in australia, blogging, football, sheer selfindulgence, writing | 12 CommentsTags: dream on squires, lapsed into blogging, sorry
At some point you have to pick a true allegiance to something, and often it is already a lost cause. In the end though, you are not dead, you are sitting around on a beach watching children led by their mothers into the sea for the first time and thinking cool, The World Cup in Australia would be a nice thing,
I might write another football poem, should be a breeze,
upstairs the naked ladies dance
January 4, 2010 at 7:56 pm | Posted in poetry, writing | 13 CommentsTags: poetry, surrealism, writing
…the drunken cartographer
is lost in his charts
need and power comets stars
navel naval arts and arse…
F. stumbling over mid-sentence this place could be perfection
transients, insentient, wallowing in exile, coming
going,
(looks up, for what, D minor, C)
the docks, the stocks
some wriggling some squiggling
(the old man’s not back come Wednesday,
damn Morrison-Huxley Effect again,)
we gotta stash ‘em some w here.
Downstairs in a ill-lit room a tiny man
sits on a wooden chair running hands
through victim’s hair
a wicked grin
whilst scribbling inside an ancient manifest.
“manifest – to reveal one’s presence”,
not ghost but most unwanted guest,
manifest, oh, manifest
your music with your words be dressed
manifest, oh, manifest
ullulates and incarnates
ungibberished hey presto,
from a’maze of silly sounds
bring forth your manifesto,
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