Ibis, Herons back,
wadding through swampy paddocks.
Frogs calls various
sounds, from five distinct species.
These rainy days, have set in.
More twins born this year.
Neighbour, pruning roses back.
Mist descending down.
Twin lambs frolic together.
The first harvest of rain waves.
Roses are ending.
The lambs are born with their tails.
Last Roses in vase.
Bleating, calling out to mom,
suckling under wool jumpers.
Poverty breeds entrapment.
It sucks you dry of pride.
Its bone marrow is toxic,
a cancer chemical agent
It clambers up your back and
sits like a demon, perched
on your shoulder
with no lack of grace
it hisses – “You loser!”
By Mj ©
Ernest Hemingway was lunching at Luchow’ with a number of writers and claimed that he could write a short story that was only six words long. Of course, the other writers balked. Hemingway told each of them to put ten dollars in the middle of the table; if he was wrong, he said, he’d match it. If he was right, he would keep the entire pot. He quickly wrote six words down on a napkin and passed it around;
Baby shoes. Never worn.”
E. Hemingway ©
Mj’s attempts at a six word story. ©
- The gun smoked. President fell dead.
- Red button pressed. Armageddon unleashed. Fini.
- Ad: Sale Matching Wedding Rings, Ph. 1234 5678.
A persona poem by The Poet Mj ©
I move among the Giant’s feet
singing, whistling my food song of thanks
no more famine when you are around
stamping the ground in great quakes of vibration
like the ‘Horse God’ of old
who made all horses from its thundering hooves
running through the air in a winter cloak.
And you one of these Demigods –
Provider – come stomp upon the earth
and up comes food from your wake
honey nectar, morsels sweet for my beak
caught with a flit of the wings, quick and silent
feeding my life and so I sing my thanks to you
O’ Great One, under thy feet.
Poem of Address by The Poet Mj ©
Sculptures name: Quiet Victory
Sculptor: Craig Medson 2007
O’ Beautiful Statue!
“Majestic Wing” that soars above volcanic rock.
See how you curl and twist
the imagining of shapely forms exists –
How you soar above the earth
wing tipped over the
shadowy, glazed, grey sky.
Pink hue and white limestone,
dug out of the earth’s recesses.
Tear drops of Saints clean you
on this rugged mountain range.
The rock of ages.
How I admire you, each visit.
I watch you age in beauty’s change.
O’ Sculptor, I see block, chisel, hammer.
And flints of rock, falling at your side.
Your image is raised up,
It sits on high
A place of tourist worship.
And then in silence –
I am drawn into quiet reflection –
I come to see you
I lay eyes of wonder on your form.
What have you done to me?
Through your creation?
I draw my eyes to you –
It sets me free.
List poetry can be deceptive in its simplicity. List poems take the form of an everyday list either rhymed or unrhymed. It uses a list to explain a subject in detail.
My own list poem “Lurid Sweeties” looks like a shopping list for sweets from a shop but this list is deceptive. It is also a satire about a woman’s love life and the outcome of her choices. Dark but a witty, fun poem.
© by The Poet Mj