Tuesday poems: Linky linky
June 3, 2014
No poem as such today. I am going down to Melbourne soon for the launch of The Stars Like Sand and am finding it hard to write at the mo.
However I recently had a hat trick of poems up at Eureka Street.
And, to continue the sporting metaphors, I scored a goal with a poem being included in the special World Cup edition of the New Zealand publication broadsheet. The poem, ‘Passing beauty’ was originally published at Eureka Street, and then in my second-prize-winning book The Cancellation of Clouds, which can be purchased from Ginninderra Press. Australia’s draw in the World Cup is (cough) perhaps (cough) somewhat difficult (hysterical laughter). We face Spain, The Netherlands and Chile. (Giggle.)
And, having linked more times than a golfer, she puts away clubs, balls big and balls small, and retires to the gym for a bit of metal.
Here are the launch posters, for the last time.
Now, some Tuesday poets will have original poems, and some will have old ones. Check them out. Put down those barbells, meat-head, and click this feather:
And then there’s Mars…
April 9, 2011
It’s fifty years since Yuri Gagarin went into space (April 12), following a few unfortunate animals who had no choice. No doubt about it, he was brave. There are many events happening worldwide for ‘Yuri’s Night’, go here for more info.
Here’s a little poem about him. This poem was previously published in The Mozzie (Queensland):
Gagarin’s death
Yuri Gagarin, first human being in space, died on a training flight in a MiG jet on 27 March 1968.
Some say it was the weather,
and others far too much fuel;
and of course, conspiracies
always have their murky place.
Personally, I believe it was
a simple swarm of birds.
Not envious, not teaching
a Soviet Icarus a thing or two.
I think they just came to see
a man who’d seen much more
than any stonechat who knows
Summer Siberia and Winter Japan.
At least you died in flight.
Some things just have to be.
P.S. Cottier
***
And then there’s Mars. When are we going to get there? Here’s another poem about space exploration, previously published in this very blog in 2009:
Dear NASA,
When we reach Mars, kicking up red dust,
walking against gusts like Marcel Marceau,
let’s not do what we did on the Moon,
forty leap and leap-less years ago.
Let us not plant any one nation’s flag,
like a toothpick through a lump of party cheese.
Might a woman set her feet first on the planet
so often connected with war? And please,
please, no one takes golf clubs, whether niblicks
putters, drivers or irons. Let Mars stay a place
untouched by sprees of futility, no heady sticks
to launch tiny white balls into circles of space.
Leave no junk; let the plains spread clearly.
Just a few thoughts from
yours, sincerely.
P.S. Cottier
Dear NASA
October 22, 2009
Ths poem recently won first prize in the C.J. Dennis Literary Awards (Auburn, South Australia) on the theme The Universe: Yours to Explore. Such an overwhelming topic seemed to call out for a little humour:
Dear NASA,
When we reach Mars, kicking up red dust,
walking against gusts like Marcel Marceau,
let’s not do what we did on the Moon,
forty leap and leap-less years ago.
Let us not plant any one nation’s flag,
like a toothpick through a lump of party cheese.
Might a woman set her feet first on the planet
so often connected with war? And please,
please, no one takes golf clubs, whether niblicks
putters, drivers or irons. Let Mars stay a place
untouched by sprees of futility, no heady sticks
to launch tiny white balls into circles of space.
Leave no junk; let the plains spread clearly.
Just a few thoughts from
yours, sincerely.
P.S. Cottier
PS Cottier 