Tuesday Poem: (ute-ku)

February 2, 2015

Back of purple ute —
‘Jesus lives here’
holytray or holycab?

P.S. Cottier

I had a vivid image of Jesus balancing on the back of a tray going round a corner, perhaps holding onto a piece of rope, a little like a tethered kelpie. When he faces the back window of the ute, he can read the sticker saying that he lives there, which would become fairly unfunny quite quickly.

Mary hears about the ute surfing idea and is less than impressed

Mary hears about the ute surfing idea and is less than impressed

For those who would like to write lots of tiny poems, here’s a link to poet SB Wright’s site which has some information about Post-it note poetry. I am proud to say that the ute-ku is my own invention.

For those of you benighted enough not to know what a ‘ute’ is, it is Australian for utility vehicle. The phrase ‘pick-up truck’ is a crude attempt to achieve a similar effect.

Really short poems rarely appear on the blogs of Tuesday Poets. But perhaps there will be another one this week. Press this link and find out.

***
And if you go here you will find another poem, written in old style English 5/7/5 haiku, about the merits (or limitations) of flash fiction. It is part of the 200th edition of AntipodeanSF. There is also the reprint of a story (a suspiciously prose-poemy story) that was published at AntiSF some time ago.:

http://www.antisf.com.au/the-stories/stories-11-22/a-lively-discussion-over-the-merits-of-flash-fiction
contributor-artwork-ps-cottier

The artwork is by “DasWortgewand”, whose real name is Reimund Bertrams. The editor of the journal, Ion Newcombe, just sent this through! Very cool.

Merry Christmas!

December 22, 2014

bigstock-Comet-in-the-sky-15028232

Just like the title says, to all readers.

If you press this link, you will find a radical poem by Emily Brontë about her relationship with God, along with some rather bashful commentary at the Tuesday Poem hub.
(I wrote the commentary, and Emily Brontë overawes me a little. I felt as if I was putting one of those idiotic jokes that you find in Christmas crackers below something ineluctably profound.)

Now, like the entire population of Australia (give or take a few hundred thousand more sensible souls) I am off to drink and eat far too much. I don’t do New Year’s resolutions, and neither do I post lists of what I achieved this year, in the manner of the fearsomely scary and boastful letters that some Americans send each other. (‘Clara is graduating from NASA as an astronaut with a sub-major in Klingon, and Peter just bought Harvard to match last year’s Yale.’)

There really is no ‘end of the year’. Time is not a commodity that we control, or which gives any attention to our calendars. But that is no reason not to have fun, and to reflect a little.

I intend to do some reflection in rock pools, and to splash in the surf.

God bless us, every one!

(working at Tilley’s)

Illumination of each face
through framing screen
everyone a Botticelli

P.S. Cottier

bigstock-Girl-hold-a-fire-on-hand--13114808

Tilley’s of Lyneham is a restaurant/bar/café which is usually quite dark, even during the brightest day. I have a coffee there every day. One day, working on something poetic, I looked up, and saw a vision. Angels typing. Squads of them. All given a brightness once associated with spiritual illumination.

It was quietly beautiful.

This dark feather was dropped by the woman above, who has lost her computer. Click it and fly to New Zealand, for further (and probably longer) poetry.

Tuesday Poem

Tuesday poem: Prayer

December 17, 2012

Prayer

Let me kill the cynicism
that dogs me, toothily.
Let cleverness die
just for today;
let me believe
with simplicity,
that hope was born
that hope is with us
that hope will come again.

Let me lie down in pillowy hay;
no more maybes and yets
and tired, half-hearted smirk.
Or better still, blow me, now, full-sailed
and squalling, billowing onto faith.

P.S. Cottier

Jacques_Daret_001

May I wish all my readers a Merry Christmas, whatever their faith (or lack of faith).

And, to get away from simple faith and back to weird curiosity, note how two of the wise men in Jacques Daret’s painting seem to be talking into their sleeves, like security guards looking after a VIP.

For the last time this year, click this feather for further poetic gifts. It’ll all be happening again next year, from January 22nd.

Tuesday Poem

So, I’m improvising here. You’ll have to click this sentence and be taken to the journal Verity La, where my poem was just published. It came about after I noticed how very blond Jesus is in many stained glass windows. He’s like David Gower…If a little chubby in this version:

From an early age, his abilities in slip were manifest…Batting came later

If you like this poem, there are lots more in Triptych Poets Issue Three

Or, click this feather, dropped by an angel, and head to New Zealand, where the mud bubbles and the poems are more than luke warm. (Little biblical pun there…Sorry.)
Tuesday Poem