Poetry

Blue – 20/7/17

Be all the blue you don’t want to see in the sky

That bitter note of sunshine rules the skies

Blow up the water tank the roos don’t mind the bangs

Leave the pieces laying on the dust

Silky dust wanting water and somehow I don’t care

Under the verandah the clouds are gathering

Could this be the end of all we’re hearing now

Or is this the only thing keeping us sane.

All I see of me is my shadow on the wall,

Walking down the hall thudding on worn carpet again.

-zu

Everything I write comes back to the word drought. It’s not the worst word once you get to know it. 

Advertisements
One Poem Every Day, Uncategorized

Daily Poem, No. 120 “Lightning” – 13/3/16 (Also, Summer or Winter? Tell me!)

My mum was struck by lightning but I was never scared of storms,

Although everybody seems to love the breeze that summer warms.

I always had a dream, that I would learn to fly,

With thunder above my shoulder and lightning in the sky.

I beg the storm to take me up into the gold and grey,

The wind sings to me so sweetly, till I start to turn away.

I shall walk home through the olive groves and weep, for I’m down here,

While above thunder and lightning dance, there’s not a chance that they can hear.

-zu

Fun fact: my mum really was struck by lightning! Indirectly of course, which is why she survived, with a pretty cool story!  

Also, summer or winter? In this poem I seem to be leaning towards winter but in actuality I love summer best. Which are you? 

One Poem Every Day, Poetic Prose, Poetry

The Planet Glok. Unnumbered.

I found this in a box of scraps of paper that I keep, it was printed out, I believe I wrote it in primary, I’m not sure. Also not sure if it was just a random thought stream or a concrete idea, but I thought it’s pretty cool. Somewhat ridiculous. It’s all the same. 😉

If I had a world of my own, there would be no unicorns. The sun would be smaller than a wonderful star and everyone would fly on the backs of swallows. The caretakers name would be Gary and he would walk slowly through the dark blue Street singing Scottish songs, and the whole world would be Irish. The corner store would sell lollipops in a rainbow whirl and the children would stare longingly as their nurses shepherd them along on the other side of the street. the nurses would b dressed in bright pink,  the children would be dressed in marbled grey and purple with grey ties and socks, and green shoes. Gary would be dressed in overalls and cary ad broom and a bucket of sops.

Everyday new flowers will bloom, and no flower will ever die until the caretaker pulls them out. Gary is fond of the flowers and only pulls out the rude ones when he has to, so the flowers are everywhere, over banisters and awnings and sidewalls and roofs and some just cascade out of thin air. if you stand still for long enough, flowers grow in your hair, and twine themselves lovingly around your neck.

In the sweet sunrise, amethysts fall from the sky, so we would wear cotton wool on their heads to catch the precious jewels. Then at night we heat them up with red fire and cook the fish that we have caught on them and then, as we lay around the fire, we devour the soft, tender, juicy fish. The next morning the amethysts will be a pale chalky pink and we pick them up and lay them under the nest of the green dawn bird. She feeds on them and when she lays her eggs they are made of transparent pink purple crystal.

During the day the men wander down through the streets to the fresh sparkling sea with their nets dragging behind them. They go to catch the fish for the night time meal. when they have caught three fat ones each, they drag the nets back o the shoe and loll on the warm rocks till the whale of the sunset rises in the deep.

The women also flock down to the sea, with their garments of purple ad red and green and blue to cleanse them in the sand. The children have all escaped from their nursemaids, and have thrown off their ties. They are a raggletaggle bunch, flowers in their hair and lollipops in their hands, but none of them have ever looked happier. Gary is keeping watch, and keeping the glassy sand clear.

Then all, except Gary, will swim in the sea, till the last fish is caught, singing the exultant hunting song triumphant with bold red flags.

-zu

Yes, it’s not perfect, I feel the need to completely rework it, but I’ve left it mostly how it was when I first wrote it. The tense does switch dramatically , but who cares? Do you? I don’t! Not today anyway, mostly because it’s raining! 😂😁

Snippets of the world

Writing and drawings in books – Snippets of The World (2. Enid Blytons Famous Five)

I prefaced my first post in this series by saying that if you abhor those terrible acts of vandalism that one occasionally comes across in books, please don’t continue reading and the same goes doubly for this post. Please. Don’t continue if you will faint at the sight of permanent marker drawings in vintage books. Thank you.

So, to continue, I was going through my collection of Enid Blyton books this morning and I came across some gems that I just had to share.

20160823_102430

 

Apparently in my numerous readings of these fabulous books I didn’t notice these Snippets, or at least I didn’t remember them, so they were a nice surprise to rediscover.

The first was deceptive in its simplicity, I think. Just a name, address and prize card.

But I like the way someone has gone to the trouble of tacking a beautiful silk ribbon on it too. And I wonder what happened to Mary Palmer, since I would have acquired this book, maybe ten years ago, if she died or was downsizing? And does she still live in Bankstown? Maybe I’ll visit her one day!

The second one has a bit of history, first of in a library, it then was owned jointly by Pauline and Francis Smith. I like the tacky little notice to wash your hands before reading, I wonder if that was Pauline and Francis’s doing or the library’s?

This second to last one is my favourite, with two amazing sketches, done by someone still in primary school I’d say. If you’re familiar with the stories of the famous five, tell me who you think they’re of!

Here’s my take on them; the dog surely must be Timmy, in a ferocious attitude, possibly protecting the five in a heroic way. And the other drawing? I know it could be either of the boys, but I think, following the Timmy theme, that it’s George. Because, I don’t know, there’s just something about it that makes me think of George. What do you think?

And the last one I found is touching evidence of my own proud ownership!

20160823_103105

Sorry Marian, not this time. 😉

So I hope you enjoyed this second installment of Snippets of The World! If you have any found things that you think fit in with this theme and you want me to showcase them in my new series please email them to me at zurkpoetry@gmail.com, I’d love to see them! (I’d like to point out that I will not include swearing in this series 😊) Thanks very much! 

-zu