24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Is a member of the dandylion collective, a small writers' group based in South Australia. He is primarily a poet, who strangely, enjoys drinking wine (his predilection is Sauvignon Blanc, bubbles is second preference, & is also partial to pretty much anything else - except red bubbles, urrrgh!). In 2014, he co-edited the Friendly Street Poets Annual Anthology 38 "The Infinite Dirt" ... ... & co-edited it again in 2020, Anthology 42, titled simply "Q" (& if you remember the weirdness of that year, you'll soon understand why) ... as well as judging the SAETA Awards for that year. 2019 Two chapbooks published "the soft humus of sleep" & "the loam of our dreams" 2012 a solo collection ‘Gunyah’ Healing published as part of Friendly Street Poets New Poets 17 in 2012 (along with John Pfitzner & Rachael Mead). He has been published in Eureka Street & InDaily Poet's Corner; as well as poems in The Infinite Dirt, Patterns of Living, Light and Glorie, Flying Kites, dB magazine, Iron Lace & others. Career highlights include: having his poem “Many-Worlds Quantum Mechanics Vs Earth-Based Grease Monkeys” published in The Best Australian Science Writing 2013; winning Second Place & $1000 for writing a poem on a pretty obscure topic after finding a competition which closed in 6 hours that same day; & having “i thought the moon was a cop car in my rear vision mirror as i drove home late last night …” short listed for the 2012 Satura Prize, 2014 WP Yeats Poetry Prize, 2015 Interstellar Award among others.
Meh, so I tweaked the concept a little. It’s for inspiration only after all 😛
the jovial wanderer
roam the night sky
live out in the cold
pick fights with comets
fights i always win
hide myself in cloud
& revel in storms
my heart is rocky
my exterior aloof
a huge red spot
blots my face
but i believe it gives
me character
i am the father, the sky
greatest wanderer of all
in praise of gareth roi
O sweet-toothed gareth roi!
you are such a cool boi
you wrote a poem of praise
despite your brain daze
ahead of your time
even though it didn’t rhyme
who would have thought
your popcorn paean would’ve bought
thirty minutes extra rest!
for this you are surely blessed
lost track
i know there’ll be talk
among the brotherhood
lots of peppy upbeat talk
(cos that the sort of
eternally optimistic
perpetually irritating
numnuts they all are)
of roads going ever on
& journeys of a 1000 miles
— but all it means to me
is yet another road to nowhere
this time alongside a river
& some less than grand mountains
most likely taking me
ever further away from you
even though i long ago
lost track of where you are
gobble
love my lolly gobble bliss bombs
nut & caramel coated popcorn
made by choirs of tripped out angels
singing love songs to sugar highs
nut & caramel coated popcorn
makes my brain oh so slightly dizzy
singing love songs to sugar highs
with my fingers all licky sticky
yes my brain oh so slightly dizzy
loves my lolly gobble bliss bombs
with fingers all licky sticky
tongued by choirs of trippy angels
This prompt is a little strange. The challenge is to write a poem about the angstrom that is not cliché. Now I don’t know why they’ve selected such an obscure word. I’ve got a bit of a bad feeling about this, but what can you do.
angstrom
the distance of the wave’s
length is infinitesimally
tiny ; one hundred-millionth
of a centimetre , to be
precise ;
it makes you wonder
where they get a ruler
that small — or at least
one where you can still
read the numbers/
whaddya mean i’m doing
it on the wrong word
a non-cliche poem
on the angstrom is what
the prompt said (hang on
i’ll just go quickly check)
ohhhh i knew this would
happen — i was so worried
it would — & surprise
(no) surprise it did — but
why does dreadful stuff
always happen to me
— the universe is
always so foreboding.
i just wanted to write
a few goddamnn poems
why does everything
have to be so damn
uneasy all the time
ps :
if i wanted a relationship
between the emission &
absorption spectrum
of chemical elements
i’d have been too scared
to ask , but that’s still no
reason for giving me one
Part of what I’m hoping to do over the course of the marathon is (should circumstances allow) is work on poems in proposed sequences/other projects. The previous poem “Duchess of Oldenburg” (though owing to the prompt, it was very different to how I thought it might be) was for such a project. And so is this. It’s for “Dropped the Sky” a Novel in Poems Young Adult book I’m working on which chronicles a pretty total invasion & how the few ragtag survivors cope.
rhapsody
when they came : no one knew what to do : met up with two older guys : figured themselves soldiers : couple of shotguns : & high powered rifles : peashooters basically : compared to what we were against : only we didn’t know : at the time : i refused a weapon : even though i could handle a gun : acted as a scout : while they blundered : all swagger : hollywood heroes : idiots : came across an enemy soldier : in its suit : got some shots off : but were : vaporised : literally into air : 2 quick blasts : afterwards : it walked the path : beneath where i was hiding : was so mad : i swung down : ripped the hoses : out of its helmet : out of its tank : the suit’s death was slower : much slower : than those two : stupid farmboys
the dust was orange
same shade as the setting sun
— but was once two men
obsolete android
somewhere inside
my industrial strength
heart ; the clockwork
mechanics are starting
to slow ; gears grinding
into silence ; my silicon
skin new only 18 months
ago now seems archaic
next to your polymer
epidermis that senses
heat, pain, human
contact ; i don’t want
to reboot ; but i can’t
control my coding ;
i can feel my 1’s & 0’s
being overwritten
even as you turn
to pixels before
my artificial eyes
This prompt was a little complicated (aka challenging, but challenging can be good). Write 10 lines of a narrative poem. Add 10 more lines (not just at the end). Then remove 8.
I didn’t exactly stick to the ‘rules’. I ‘wrote’ two poems of 10 (each about a different Duchess of Oldenburg – there is a reason for this I might explain one day) then interlaced the two poems, alternating lines. Then tried to shape the final product so it made some kind of sense, as well as cut lines/words/phrases – as well as refashioning line lengths (let’s be honest) so I finally got to a 12 line final poem as kind of required. It was tough & took a bit longer than the hour, but I think the end result is kinda interesting, with some particularly ‘fresh’ images in parts. NB: the ‘working out’ is also posted …
Duchess of Oldenburg
10 + 10 − 8 (+ edits).
Frederica of Württemberg was born in 1765 in Farther Pomerania
an attractive early-season baby, seventh child of Duke Frederick II
She ran medium-sized with a pinkish blush. At 16, she married
Prince Peter Frederick in a gown with pronounced streaks over green.
Renowned as a great cook, Frederica died in childbirth, aged 20,
white flesh shot with green highlights. Her husband never remarried.
Like many summer varieties, Her Grace oxidized quickly.
However, her very juicy & on the coarser side of dense, siblings
peppered royal houses of Europe; a light, sweet brother became
King of Württemberg; a crisp enough sister, Empress of Russia;
another whose mouth was full of unwieldy teeth, an unlikely
(& unlikeable) Archduchess of Austria. She never became Duchess of Oldenburg.
the work-in-progress
1st 10.
Frederica of Württemberg was born in 1765 in Farther Pomerania
the seventh child of Frederick II Eugene Duke of Württemberg
& Friederike Dorothea of Brandenburg-Schwedt.
At age 16, she married Prince Peter Frederick of Holstein-Gottorp
It was meant to strengthen Russian/Württembergian relations
At 20, Frederica died in childbirth. Her husband never remarried.
Her siblings peppered royal houses of Europe
A brother becoming King of Württemberg;
One sister, Empress of Russia; another, Archduchess of Austria.
Despite all the many titles she would never become Duchess of Oldenburg
+ 2nd 10.
An attractive early-season apple, originating from Russia
in the 18th century, and widely grown in Europe and the US.
She runs medium-sized with a pinkish blush
in pronounced streaks over yellow green.
Renowned as a cooking apple, especially if picked early
the Duchess has white flesh shot with green highlights,
very juicy and on the coarser side of dense. The effect
is light and sweet, but crisp enough, with a little yield to the tooth.
A refreshing hint of lime and a little acid, a flash of vanilla.
Like many summer varieties, Her Grace oxidizes quickly.
10 + 10 (blended).
Frederica of Württemberg was born in 1765 in Farther Pomerania
An attractive early-season apple, originating from Russia
the seventh child of Frederick II Eugene Duke of Württemberg
in the 18th century, and widely grown in Europe and the US.
& Friederike Dorothea of Brandenburg-Schwedt.
She runs medium-sized with a pinkish blush
At age 16, she married Prince Peter Frederick of Holstein-Gottorp
in pronounced streaks over yellow green.
It was meant to strengthen Russian/Württembergian relations
Renowned as a cooking apple, especially if picked early
At 20, Frederica died in childbirth. Her husband never remarried.
the Duchess has white flesh shot with green highlights,
Her siblings peppered royal houses of Europe
very juicy and on the coarser side of dense. The effect
A brother becoming King of Württemberg;
is light and sweet, but crisp enough, with a little yield to the tooth.
One sister, Empress of Russia; another, Archduchess of Austria.
A refreshing hint of lime and a little acid, a flash of vanilla.
Despite all the many titles she would never become Duchess of Oldenburg
Like many summer varieties, Her Grace oxidizes quickly.
before darkness
before darkness : the rush & bustle : the sirens : the tunnel vision : the tap tap tap of 10 million keyboards : the conferring media : spin cycles : PR exercises : racing rodents : the tabloid’s blood : the dog & pony show : the argy : the bargy : the win/lose polarity : the butting of heads : the calling of names : the inciting : the absence of morality : heat : sweat : steam
after darkness : sweet stillness : time for going deep : the slumber of shadows : the road of milk : the road of wonder : so many roads : spreading in all directions : the slowly descending silence : the chance to discover : catching thought : gossamer strings : self being mirrored unto itself : the beginnings of awareness : of everything : of which : you are unaware : cool breath
instead of fearing darkness : so much : we really should : question light
where we were
you pointed your gun
at the sea, at the sand
at me. said love was
invincible. pretended
everything was a blast.
so why did it all end …
in a flash of brilliant
bright light & cordite’s
bitter stink