NaPoWriMo Day 21: Yorke Peninsula

Yorke Peninsula

 

Just finished a poem I began in September last year. I’ve been visiting the peninsula regularly for over 40 years & this is the latest of many attempts to encapsulate its diversity in text.

 

Yorke Peninsula

 

lime green paddocks of barley wave to the edge

of cliffs and scalloped bays

 

landlocked islands of high-vis canola

 

waving microforests of seagrass in shallows,

a glassysea reflecting a cloudy sky

 

cursive scribbles of squid ink on jetty planks

 

crumbling limestone cliffs recycled as

institutes, general stores and hotels

 

copper bleeding up from magma

NaPoWriMo Day 20: little-known facts

Google

 

 

 

 

 

A recent prompt was “any unusual facts that you know.” These are unusual.

 

Little-known facts.

 

Did you know that

 

• a bacterium has been isolated in lava spewing

from the Quoxalotl Volcano in Paraguay which

can thrive at temperatures exceeding 750°C and

is capable of decomposing titanium?

 

Did you know that

 

• The wheel was invented by the indigenous

inhabitants of Tasmania 45 000 years ago,

but discarded when they found no

practical use for it?

 

Did you know that

 

• The original version of the New Testament

included the Gospel According to St Albert

which was expurgated by The Church of Rome

in the 15th century because of Albert’s assertion

that the Last supper consisted of

Milk and Chocolate?

NaPoWriMo Day 19: love poem

 

lovepoem

Love poem

 

 

 

You are the light that strikes horizontally in the final

hour before sunset, the sun which paints gold

everything it touches.

 

You are a struck match, welcome light in an emergency which

gutters out in a nightwind or burns my fingers. You are the

odour of autumn apples in cartons in the laundry.

 

You are my rudder except when you are my anchor. You are my

milestone and my millstone. You are both the pop and

sigh of a champagne cork.

 

You are not the after-party empty beer bottles. You are certainly

the twittering of blue wrens at a frequency I may not

hear if I don’t wear earplugs to band rehearsals.

 

You are definitely not the mournful cry of that damn mopoke on

a summer’s night or the blood-curdling shriek of a

curlew like the wandering lost souls of the dead.

 

You are decidedly the tartness of that cherry pulp they put in the

buns from the South Plympton Bakery. You are

assuredly not the smell of dog turd in the tread of my

sneaker.

 

You are probably the feel of a baby’s breath on my cheek. You

are arguably not the thin slice of a new moon discarded

like a chewed finger nail.

 

You are everything in my universe. I hope I didn’t go too far

earlier with the millstone comment.

NaPoWriMo Day 18: Selling my poetry book

Merch

Selling my poetry book.

 

Customers who bought me also bought a kilogram of bruised bananas

Customers who bought me also bought 50 Shades of Gray

Customers who bought me also bought a one month bus pass

Customers who bought me also bought Valentines chocolates

Customers who bought me also bought sex toys

Customers who bought me also bought asthma medication

Customers who bought me also bought a McHappy Meal

Customers who bought me also bought gargantuan TV screens

Customers who bought me also bought 10 ounces of crystal meth

Customers who bought me also bought time-share holidays in the Caymans

Customers who bought me also bought sponsorship for a child in Eritrea

Customers who bought me also bought weapons to arm insurgents

Customers who bought me were conceived in 1953 Buicks

Customers who bought me were unable to get an abortion in 23 states.

Customers who abort me were unable to buy twenty three states.

Customers who bought me felt like they hadn’t achieved anything of significance in their lives

Customers who bought me lived in the moment

Customers who bought me were lapsed Catholics

Customers who bought me were prolapsed and proLife

Customers who bought me embezzled $1.2 million undetected to finance their gambling addiction

Customers who bought me just wanted a little respect and recognition

Customers who bought me just wanted their husbands to give them a backrub

Customers who bought me sold themselves

Customers who bought me longed to return to their childhood.

Customers who bought me hated their childhood

Customers who bought me are like, y’know, inarticulate as.

Customers who bought me know there’s no money in poetry.

Customers who bought me know there’s no poetry in money

Customers who bought me will never be in the history books

Customers who bought me will never be in the news

Customers who bought me will never be in prison

Customers who bought me will never be in.

Customers who bought me will never be.

Customers who bought me will never.

Customers who bought me will.

Customers who bought me.

Customers who bored me.

Customers who bought

customers who bought

me.

Customers who?

Customers.

 

 

NaPoWriMo Day 17: call me buy-curious

magnum

call me buy-curious…

 

…but when i had to stop for fuel at port wakefield i saved $3 out of the $100 bill with my coles docket and the service station guy asked if i wanted to try the new flavour magnum icecream for only $3 today & i thought what the hell and i wasn’t surprised that it was smaller than i expected and a little too sweet and the chocolate wasn’t dark and i asked myself why after a whole lifetime the advertisers still suck me in like this and that the dream is always better than the reality…