September 7, 2010



Withered willow,

scantily clad with a rustic memory,

wielding arms like tumours

each one

a misguided maladroit.

I do see the forest through the trees

but not the tree through the forest.

I thought this was a good hiding place

but now my skirt is soaked

with saccharin.

Thoughtlessly scaling these knowing limbs

is exhilarating uncertainty,

but to stop and smell the blistered bark

reduces the branch

to mulch.…

Logos smeared in shimmering rouge

On a night-hushed harbour

Fluorescent overtime

Cupping the tinkle-donk

Of tilting masts

Wildly pointing at the stars

In giddy accusation -

Skinned pets, parked 

Waiting for Sydney’s

Working wealth to wake

…

Perched on cement

Soothed by the quiet

Moored like these yachts

In obedient patience,

I consider our trembling…

in the half light of morning

between the tangles of dreams

and the almost-possibles of day

I lie in bed and listen

birds call to each other

or to no-one

rain falls suddenly on the roof

a car moves someone along the street

someone already upright

eyes open

doing what they have to do

through shuttered eyelids

I listen

to the sound of your breathing

in and…

I am th' passenger

n I ride

n I write

n what will I ride about

this morning?…

DRANSFIELD, DRANSFIELD, DRANSFIELD

There's been a lot of Dransfield in the air lately. Considering his notable omission from Gray and Lehman's Australian Poetry Since 1788 one can only conclude a little absence is a powerful reminder.…

One of the great attractions of being a scientist is that, like the early explorers, you get to name what you discover.

As a student I was excited when our lecturer announced they had found a 10 metre long fossil python at Riversleigh, Queensland, and it had been called  Montypythonoides…

I put away the toys.

Cleaned the room and

Cursed and dammed the mess you made.

Grumbled about the many stubborn stains.

As I washed and ironed a million clothes.

Then I fell on the couch-

A tired heap of ageing blood and bone.

And looked around in sweet despair.

This home is....

-too quiet now!

-too clean !

-too orderly!

Come back!

I'll gladly trade this

for the joyful…

The sheets cling to your slender legs.

You turn and smile as I stare,

Smothered by the scent of your orgasm

That floats in the air....

We reach out hungry again

For a lasting embrace.

Breast against chest,

Heaving sighs only lovers can understand.

The sun filters through the window panes.

You cast your sheet aside.

You arch your back and I feel

The softness of your skin.

Legs entwined, we rock…

Give me eyes like windows, closed

and shuttered at night.

Help me avert my gaze,

and my mind.

Let me observe life, yet see

nothing.

I will invest in rose coloured

contact lens factory.

Give me the strength not to see

myself as others do. 

Don't let me make too much of a

spectacle of myself.

I must increase taxes on seeing

eye…

Get in hotter, louder and faster in French seguing to German, Spanish and English and Vietnamese and Lebanese

telling them

"I am an engineer, and I have made crepes oiseau"

Rev the engine, just like scary crazy guys at Eastern Creek

and have a heart,

because the party one has that night with the MacHeaths of Lille

are good times. 

JG says he has been going through a ravenous reading spell of late, and brought his latest batch of books he's ripping through along with him on the road. I did most of the driving. He's not the best with a manual transmission, much preferring an automatic, which he believes better suits his aristocratic bearing. Some of the titles I saw: Hitch-22 (a memoir by the late Christopher Hitchens); The Quantum and the Lotus (something to do with physics and buddhism); the poems of Emily Dickinson;…

The doctor’s observation, after ruling out various possibilities, was that: The more contact a person has with the media, the more he complains of feeling lost and isolated.

Certainly that could be so. We’ll see how it goes. So far there’s been a significant withdrawal from the perpetual digital noise and chatter (there are enough voices scrapping for prominence in my head as there is) but the sense of feeling lost and isolated still persists, and can easily be found in the so-called…

Geoffrey Lehmann will launch my next poetry book, Late Night Shopping, Brandl & Schlesinger, at Sappho Books, Cafe & Wine Bar, 51 Glebe Point Road on Tuesday 10 April 2012 @ 7pm.

See www.sapphobooks.com.au

This is a regular Tuesday night reading with an open mic competition, and I'll keep you posted on the other reader.

Please come along and help celebrate with me.

Also follow my blog on…

Twenty First Birthday Celebration

National Year of Reading

Holroyd City Council

Library Service

2012

***

We commemorate this celebration

in carefully chosen ways by remembering

Henry Lawson…

VIS-PO

You know how we love a little vis-po here at syd-po... Well Claire Potter has diagrammed Matthew Hall’s ‘Dawn Falsely Observed’.

WRITERS HOUSES ILLUSTRATED…

http://poettreeoncarp.tumblr.com/ 

Fly butterfly

Spread your wings

And dance

Sharp is the  breeze

Your breath

Your earth

A world once more

Gasping

Breathless

Silence as you surrender

Floating and fleeting

A gentle puff

Fly butterfly

Spread your wings

And dance

Free to the floor

A new journey awaits you

As you take the morning

Flying

A presence

Now beneath your…

Floating

His smile was grace

His voice

His face

Laughter and cheer

Brought happiness here

And of all the joys

He gave to us

Now in god

We place

Our trust

And Forever

In our hearts

He shall remain