Thursday, April 26, 2012

Three poems waiting for a home

Now that the musical is no longer requiring me to do something every minute of the day, I can get a bit of focus back into other things...

The three poems below were all submitted for the recent Poems in the Waiting Room competition.  Since they didn't get placed/picked, I'm now free to put them online.   The first one (which I've revised a little) is in response to the way in which television weather reports seem somewhat biased towards the North...

Weather Report

Never mind that Waiouru's
frozen, iced and brutal,
or that Kaitaia, which is in the tropics anyway,
is constantly fine
and has no excuse to be otherwise;
or that Auckland rains flood in all seasons,
or that Wellington's swept off the map
with gusts and winds whose rate of knots
exceed the speed of light,
or the Garden City's smog smudges
homes, faces, windscreens
with a grey and pernicious smuttiness...

Always, always, in the Deep South
according to the (fair)-weathermen and -women
ensconced behind the Bombay Wall of Hills,
preferably down to 200 metres.

This second poem isn't autobiographical...and again is a little revised...

The Luddite Dreams

The Internet is down – for good.
Bookshops come back into their own;
Google has gone; librarians once again
Are the source of all knowledge. 
Everything you wanted to know in a hurry
You have to wait for, just as you did in the past.
You can’t order online, or pay online,
You have to communicate face to face,
With real faces, real voices, and discover
They are, for the most part, worth communicating with.
No more poker games online, no more
Pornography available at the touch of a key.
Life slows down, immeasurably, and
Millions of people find employment again.  

This one is a little more autobiographical....!


Togging up to go

dead horse flogging,
the laps doggedly
the mind fogging -
or thinking about

Aquajogging is at the
opposite extreme to

Gossiping women
hogging the centre lane.

For couples,
is a sloshing
form of snogging.