Three first world concerns

The scholastic affliction —
virus transmits an urge
to write a PhD

Paleo or vegan diet?
Debate attracts more comments
than Palestine

American spelling triumphs —
well color me cheeks,
what’s wrong with ‘u’?

PS Cottier

sign

This one is inspired by some of the whingey conversations overheard at my local café. Hats off to the woman who was complaining about how expensive marble is in kitchen renovations, as if it was a human rights issue. The second stanza (or pseudo-haiku) is based on newspaper debates on-line.

I do feel an itch of discomfort about American spelling, so the last part is a go at myself. And the sign has no relation to the poem, I think.

Tuesday poem: Tribute

September 9, 2019

A strange tendency
we adore that which monsters
Stephen Edwin King

travelers-lured

I am very much enjoying the current Stephen King glut of films and TV series. But for me, the prospect of a new book by King beats all of that. Can’t wait to read The Institute, which I think comes out in November. Long may King continue to scare the crap out of us, all the world around.

UPDATE: I don’t know where I got that November idea from, as the book’s out now!

Tuesday poem: Haiku

September 4, 2019

Behind the parlour
nail clippings rejoice
castanets

headpiece-scene-7-1

I was just thinking about the constant trail of stuff we leave behind; skin,hair, nails. The idea of all these sheddings coming together is disturbing. Maybe have a go at writing your own weird little haiku? The hair caught in hairbrushes comes to mind.

No new poem this week. But if you live in Canberra and want some wine and/or poetry, (and who wouldn’t when it’s bleak and freezing) go to University House, ANU, at 7pm or earlier on Wednesday 14th August. Poetry will happen in the Graduate Lounge. There will be Carol Jenkins (Sydney), David Gilbey (Wagga Wagga) and PS Cottier (Canberra). The last-mentioned poet even has a hat. It was recently purchased from Australian Poetry.

There is an entry fee for the poetry of $10 waged and $5 unwaged.

I wrote this one before reading how four miners have died in Queensland this year. Appalling to think that people are dying like that; something is obviously very wrong.

Makes my last line seem a little optimistic, and the illustration of nineteenth century safety lamps seem appropriate.

The canary, the pony, and the man

It sounds like a joke’s first line,
a trio who walked into a bar.
But no, these are the three who
went below, swung down from the light.

One was there to pull loads
through dark roads carved
far from the sun, far from meadow,
half horse and half mole.

The bright bird, born for the sky,
would die first if the air was turning.
Now he is mere metaphor, cliché;
canary in the coal-mine has had his day.

Only the man still mines.
Each day he dives down to work,
amongst rich minerals and dust —
every day rising like Lazarus.

PS Cottier

safety-lamps