MIB
The sky was dark and surly,
jettisoned of joy,
stay inside, it seemed to say
to every girl and boy.
………………
We combed a beach, Jane and I
in search of MIBs
where we found a scrap
of potty poetry:
……………………
‘you give me the shits: o grapes,
that’s why I love you so,:
Ode to Black Sapphires’—
Jake from the “Ohio” ‘
*pic from pinterest
A ‘Rhymer’ for Sis
Was luxury having the home back again,
of wolfing down breakfast at 4 a,m
and pounding out my story of Jerri and Jane
remembering, remembering those times
with Mattie in the tent —
of a glorious youth gloriously misspent;
………………………………..
o, the plethora of pens at my side
inviting me to paint them any colour ink ;
the clatter and clashes of dishes in the sink,
the luxury of noise again, my friend on his plane,
I walk back and forth
between bedroom and desk.
Not caring if later I feel a wreck,
…………………………………….
A carnival of lights, the pulse of productivity,
I gobble down the morning, this one’s for me !
& this one’s for you, sis! See you next time.
O, the luxury of writing once again in rhyme.
Sis Reads my Poems
She is seven years younger than me.
She is not a reader.
She’s a You Tuber
like my paraplegic mate
also confined to a wheelchair.
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’
never read your poetry, John
can you bring me some?
Sure, I say.
I bring her a book of optimistic poems:
‘Hope is the Helium’.
I hope she likes it.
……………………………..
How was it? I say, next time I visit.
it doesn’t rhyme, she says.
real poetry rhymes.
i couldn’t read it.
didn’t you learn anything at school?
Houston, we have a problem.
Catacomb.
Saw you were floundering, said the deacon
like my editor used to say
when I was starting out.
……………..
Don’t be discouraged.
People like to cluster, snug as mandarins.
You have to go up to them,
like Jesus did,
Get to know people.
Reach out.
………………….
I feel emboldened, empowered.
Meet an apiarist, software developer, a leaf whisperer,
bagpipe player,
a ‘refugee’ from the local Pentecostal.
The world opens up —
a catacomb of stories
*picbypinterest
Loony as a Lamp post
I stood out in the hall like a stobie pole, the lone boomer
among all those millennials and kids.
Maybe it was a mistake coming early, an hour before service
but I was hoping to mingle.
Fat chance.
A deacon came over and had a chat,
the perfunctory greeting then moved off.
Alone again naturally.
I was the cheese that stands alone. On my Pat Malone.
Felt loony as a lamp post
mobbed by moths and midges
my fears, anxieties.
*picbypinterest
Your Service.
It is Anzac Day in Oz, a sacred day to honour the fallen
in foreign wars.
Sometimes I feel old enough to have served in WW Two.
Sometimes I look it.
Wherever I go today — service station, shops — people stop
and thank me for my service.
I patiently explain I wasn’t called up for the Vietnam War
nor did I volunteer once I completed my teacher training.
No one wanted to hear, they thanked me anyway.
Finally I gave up. I acknowledged their greeting and slunk back
to the car feeling a bit of an impostor.
*picbypinterest
amuse-bouches
Legs
stop walking so fast, I say to my legs.
I can barely keep up
…………….
Missing Limb
my right pocket vibrates
even when there’s nothing in it.
phantom leg syndrome.
……………………
Newspaper
you are so impeccably neat.
When you go to bed, do you fold yourself up
like a newspaper?
………………………….
Bark
from a corner of the clearing
the bark of a butterfly
clearing its throat.
Strepsils? I offer
………………………..
Car-wash
hope it rains soon,
said the dusty corolla.
I need a car-wash.
Am I Missing Something?
When I was a kid I never ate my veggies till mum stepped in and said. “What about the starving lids of Africa???”
That waS the clincher.
But I couldn’t see how me eating my veggies would benefit the starving kids of Africa.
Was I missing something?
But you don’t argue with your mama. I made a token effort which pleased mum.
And I felt happy in some obscure way I helped these kids. Were the remains of my meal shipped to some deprived colony ?
…………………………
Forward some sixty years.
I’m at the pub with my mates. It’s a Friday.
There’s me, Marge, churlish Chas and Pete,
Ten minutes later, our Kate rocks up.
I’m drinking a pint of beer. Kate scowls.
“You’ll never finish it, John,” she says,
And it plays out as if scripted.
“Look. It’s a waste,” Kate says mounting her high horse..“ Why don’t you buy a schooner?”
“Coz it’s dearer,” I say. “Costs more for less.”
“I’ll pay the difference,” she says.
“But what if I want more ????? “
“ Oh, you men are impossible, “ she says. “Think of the waste.”
I could mention the starving kids, or beer drinkers, of Africa but think better of it.
Is it a female thing or just a Kate and Mum thing.?
“Stll love you, Kate, : I say, “Cheers.”
Chastened.
The hedge looks cowed
chastened, neutered
as though ready for a life of service
rather than one of wilful fecundity.
I feel uneasy around it.
Don’t blame me, I say, for bringing in the lads
with their loppers and buzz saws?
You guys were out of control.
You had to have yr wings clipped.
……………………
Reminds me of the time me and Elspeth
were chastened at the cinema
during a screening of ‘Little Women’.
Okay we were a bit chatty, lovey dovey
and we could have talked quieter
but what the woman said when she marched up to us
as the lights came on, standing over us was a little over the top.
“Let me have a good look at you two, so I know never to sit
anywhere near you at the cinema again !”
We shrank in our chairs, like two schoolkids given a ‘dressing down’.
*picbypinterest
Nibbles 2.
1. Shags and Seagulls
I like my books slim and elegant
like seagulls.
Not big and beefy
like shags.
…………………….
2. I See Your Face Change
I see your face change
as you played the piano.
Did you go into a room?
………………..
3, Bird Bath
A bird came to my bird bath today.
Tides out, he said
and flew away.
…………………..
4. Internship.
Been married thirty years.
Lived with another for ten.
The last for two.
Reckon I’ve done my internship.
I’m ready for you.
John Malone 