Tuesday poem: Air in the heart
September 16, 2013
Air in the heart
You might think it would be a good thing,
being light-hearted, like a kite, or a bird
riding up-draughts. But air in the heart
can stop pumping, block flow, rather than
bump it up. Diver into four ringed death,
ventricle prevented; you have blown
your last, and so you expire,
choking, full, oxygenated.
Open mouthed like a fish
surprised in sudden air;
a blimp crashing
through inflation.
Mouth a circle
of airy shock,
bubbling
an SOS
of ‘O’s.
P.S. Cottier
This jolly little thing, first published in The Mozzie, dates back to my disastrous attempt to scuba dive. That’s only disastrous in the sense that I couldn’t do it, rather than dying, though. Fortunately, I was learning (or failing to learn) in a pool in Canberra.
I had the totally irrational urge to remove the mouthpiece. Not so good in forty metres of water…
I suppose that I’ll never swim with the fishes. But neither, hopefully, will I sleep with them.
For more poetry, press this feather. Which reminds me that I’ll never skydive, either.
My column at Australian Poetry which will go up later this week is about different ways of performing poetry: slams, bush poetry and ‘literary’ readings. Pop over there as well! My first one was on being a poetic guinea pig, as mentioned before.
Tuesday poem: Unholy sonnet
September 10, 2013
Yes, I’m afraid it’s another link! My poem about mining in Australia was just posted at Eureka Street, along with some excellent poems about asylum seekers. I rewrite a John Donne sonnet as an address to Gina Rinehart. Fun fun fun! Press this link to go there:
http://www.eurekastreet.com.au/article.aspx?aeid=38158#.Ui6JomthiK0
prospecting for pentameter
Then if you like, fly freely to New Zealand by pressing this feather:
Australian Poetry’s inaugural on-line Poet in Residence
September 5, 2013
I will be writing about poetry at the Australian Poetry site over the next month, as their on-line Poet in Residence. Inaugural Poet in Residence, which makes it sound slightly Presidential.
http://www.australianpoetry.org/2013/09/04/introducing-p-s-cottier/ If you feel like it, press that link which will take you to the site. This first piece is just a general introduction to me.
You can see what a keen mind Australia Poetry has on its hands for a month…Gloved in synapses, they will be.
I’ll be talking about reading only poetry next week, and how I have gone nine months untainted by prose. Should be fun!
Tuesday poem: Paraskavedekatriaphobia
August 26, 2013
Paraskavedekatriaphobia*
Yes, lock the door. Tight. Check and check again.
Did you move the spare key hidden under the concrete swagman?
The unlucky swagman who drowned himself in the iconic creek?
Open door. Remove key. Lock door. Check and check again.
Make a cup of tea. Kettle is broken. Use the stove.
Sip slowly; only twelve hours to go. Enjoy the aroma. Peace.
God, God, do you smell gas? Yes, yes; check the stove for leaks.
Check each knob for verticality. Check and check again.
Germs! There are always germs. Clean and clean again.
Polish the door handles. Remove all swagman germs.
Clean the cup, the stove, the pot. Scrub hands. Disinfect.
Judas germs hide under nails. Check and check again.
Slip once and slip again. Polish is so slip slippery;
floors are ice-rinks to ug-boots. You trip and fall;
fall into the bath of steaming Dettol. Can’t move.
Broken neck. Swagman’s death. Die and die again.
P.S. Cottier
*Paraskavedekatriaphobia is the morbid fear of Friday the 13th.
‘Paraskavedekatriaphobia’ published in ACT Writers Centre Poets’ Lunch anthology (Boris Books) called Friday 13th. Selected by Michael Byrne and Paul Kooperman.
Lots of fun to write a poem laughing at irrational fears. So long as they are other people’s irrational fears, hm?
Now I promise that the following feather, although black, has no evil powers or even tendencies. Click it, fly to New Zealand, read poetry.
Just avoid any flying concrete swagmen on the way.
Tuesday poem: Flat pack
August 12, 2013
Flat pack
Welcome to the world of self assembly!
All the basics are provided. You as a baby,
tools, a diagram of a family with two options:
happy and Tolstoy. Pick up the Allen key.
Turn it towards you so as to see the end.
Notice the six, even-handed sides?
This hex key is useful for casting spells.
Wave it over yourself and gurgle.
Direction is unimportant at this stage.
You are both magician and magic;
worker, hive, queen bee and honey.
Gradually, you will begin to take form.
You may lean a little to left or right.
This is not a fault of manufacture,
but a natural quality of the components.
Wobbling, flopping and total disintegration;
undermining by termites or excess thoughts
are also to be expected. The high gloss finish
may peel a little. Oil it up with achievement
(not included in the kit, but easily obtainable).
When assembled, you should find yourself satisfactory.
If not, please use the supplied rope as you see fit.
P.S. Cottier
This poem is from my collection The Cancellation of Clouds. You can order the book on the ‘About’ page, if you are keen. I think I was trying out a little Dorothy Parker with that last line…
If you wish for more poetry, press this black feather, fly to New Zealand, and present the following invisible docket:(…………………) Poetry will be presented. Free steak knives are also a possibility.
PS Cottier 