Fractal Distraction

I have not shared any poems for some time now so here is one that is going into my revised Conversations with Myself that shall be included in a larger, self-published collection of stories and poems.

the wonder of mathematical progression
and endless repetition
through variance unmeasured
to produce coastlines
of wonder
drawing the eye
inward
downward
until I fall forward
into a living kaleidoscope
of alternate reality
wilder than any
worm’s porthole
until I emerge on the
other side
where I first began
this mesmerising journey.

a little update

I have been very naughty in not updating in this blog more often.

The news is that I have several poetry projects on the go.

I am generally not one for competitions but there is a competition for bush poetry that I have some suitable pieces for submission so am reviewing these prior to sending off.

My university research studies are looking at aspects of World War 1. One thing that keeps coming through time and time again is how much more an active pursuit that poetry was back then. I keep coming across poems written by soldiers and not just the noted war poets like Owen and Sassoon but ordinary men in the trenches. This has inspired a potential collection of my own. I have a journal where I record ideas, thoughts and images for potential poems. The ultimate objective is a collection of poems reflecting the WW1 experience. The image of a photograph of an Australian soldier laying dead in a German trench following the disaster of the Battle of Fromelles, simply will not go away. He literally looks as if he was curled up asleep but with one arm part raised as if reaching for something as he died. The notes for that potential piece keep growing and growing.

The other little item of poetic news is that I am currently editing my own first small collection of my poems - actually I am tossing in a couple of very short pieces of fiction to up the page count slightly. This is being done as a gift for someone but after the first 'edition' bound by a copy shop looked pretty crappy, I decided to go the whole Print On Demand (POD) route which means more editing and layout work to be done. A local artist has agreed to potentially collaborate a little with me on this project and we shall be meeting in the near future to discuss her possibly doing a drawing or two for the book.

Now, because my feet are cold and the second X-Files film is on, I am going to kick the heater into a higher gear and concentrate on agents Moulder and Scully for a while.

Eye to the Telescope

Eye to the Telescope is an online poetry journal that is calling for submissions for its next issue. I intend submitting some work. Unfortunately for my friends outside the Antipodes, entry is limited to poets from Australia and New Zealand.

More details here: eyetothetelescope.com/submit.html

An important announcement

Well, it has happened. Tomorrow I pick up the hardcopy of my first poetry collection, Conversations With Myself.

This is only a short run. So short, in fact, that it only has one volume - in total.

What I have done is put together a small volume of my poetry as a Mother's Day gift for my mother. It shall be spiral-bound tomorrow, ready for posting off.

It is the thought that counts, isn't it? :-)

High Street

High Street

I remember the early morning milko.
Clip clop! His horse’s hooves rang out as
its breath misted in the cold morning air.

Further back the baker also came,
his steed as brown as crusted bread.
Will that be a loaf of white today ma’am?

Dragging mum by the hand to street’s end.
Look – there – a steam train hauling grain.
Wave, just in case the driver sees us!

Pennies were no longer the currency,
but polished up with fine steel wool,
we dove for their glow in the blue-green depths.

These are some things from my past,
when I was just a fey wide-eyed child,
unsullied by life’s foul realities.

Just a few reflections from my childhood when we lived on High Street.

spider's haiku

I found this female Garden Orb-weaving spider frantically spinning a web just on dusk and managed to get a reasonable picture of it.

Rain

drumming, thrumming
percussion on a fibreglass skin
beneath which I sit
while kettledrum thunder
rolls in the distance
as rain hammers down
relentlessly

toxic black natural poisons
flooding rivers that swell,
rising against banks
gathering pace
foaming like crazed latte against levee walls
sweeping people away when the levee breaks
desperate fingers clinging to street poles
while a frog rides a snake's back to safety



Inspired by sitting beneath a fibreglass shelter during the rain while up north, Queensland suffers a staggering degree of disaster by flood. During all that, a frog was actually observed clinging to the back of a snake that was swimming to safety.

To help those affected by the terrible floods here in Queensland Australia http://bit.ly/fQdQ9n