Last day

on the last day of February
I pause, the keyboard still
as I reflect
on the month just passed
and consider
the rondeau challenge for March

Where do girls go

His eyes followed the girl,
as she passed
seeing in her youth, a memory
of a girl he once knew;

replaced by the virago
who caught his lapse
elbowing him
in loud rebuke

and he wondered,
not for the first time
when his girl had left,
or if she'd ever been at all.

The scales of social change

the magistrate wearies

of the same old stories,

excuses and creative alibis

social conflict paraded

beyond the apology and handshake

of a more civilised era

spite unrestrained

fills the barristers' pockets

litigation unrestrained

 

(c) Merlene Fawdry 2011

Chains of displacement

From the 100 metre exclusion zone
decreed in the court order
he watches the shadows of his former life;

as the doppleganger emerges from his car
pats his dog
greets his children then,
with an arm around his wife
walks toward his house

the chains of displacement
binding him, to an exile
of furtive glimpses into the life
he can never re-enter.

School's out

as the bell rings
a flurry of gold and green
rushes the school gate

a tumble of arms and legs
meeting, greeting
in pursuit of childhood

A miracle

from a concertina of rubble

a miracle emerges

and heroes pause to clap

Changing hands

in his retirement

his tradesman hands,

gnarled and blunt fingered,

seem out of place

on the laptop keyboard

The losing of wisdom

for most of her life it stood

straight and strong
but lately it succumbed
to the winds of older age

losing its grip, it faltered
for a day or two
swaying at impossible angles

topling quietly
during the night
and she wondered

if the getting of wisdom
departed
with the tooth that brought it


This was Saturday's contribution that somehow got lost between the writing and pressing the publish button.

Bread and butter

At the coffee shop today

the owner

combined black barrista apron

with a look of contempt

for those she served,

her bread and butter.

Dragon dance

A river of colour

dances down High Street

red and gold flashes

to the beat of many drums

the benevolent dragon welcomes

the year of the golden rabbit.

a different world

he walked a slow pace
against the red light
oblivious to the motorists' angst

head nodding to an Ipod beat
he tweeted his thoughts

communicating with a world
beyond the physical

eRror

They met on eHarmony
and began an eNcounter

eRotic, ePisodic
and dangerously eRethic

and, in the eNd
an eRror.

Day 14

Day 14 and the quality of this challenge begins to wane. I could have, should have, written something about Valentine's day - but I didn't. At least I have a growing bank of material to revise, build on, or send straight to gaol. For March, I'm thinking about focussing on one poetry form for the month, and instead of one each day, I'll revise each one until I'm happy with it.

Alone

She sits alone in
contemplation of the past
regretting the misplaced pride
that swept her family away
in a flood of petty differences.

Wisdom

Showing both courage and wisdom
he turned a blind eye
to the bikie's brawl

ushering his family to safety.

The brickies

After a day lost to rain
the site springs to life

fluoro clad brickies
with trowels in hand

paste grey concrete blocks
with a mix of mortar 

and a building grows
row upon row.

From the upstairs window

From the upstairs window, she reflected

on the attic of her childhood

shadows illuminated

by flickering memory

a silent movie of

fast moving images, that fade

at the sound of her grandchild's voice.

The Art Supply Shop

at the art supply shop

she came to the counter

on a whiff of turpentine

her hands a colour palette

for the rainbow hues

that snaked up her arms

and aross the corrugations of her chest

an abstract in progress

Twilight World

I noticed it first

in the slowness of his walk

uncertainty in each step

as he questioned his surroundings

with angry glances at passers by

in mute search of the familiar

a lifeline to grasp

before he slipped further

into a twilight world

where memories shuffle to dust.

Spirit Level

from bar to table, he sways
the spirit in his glass levelling
with each stumble

Enrolment Day

In all the babble and confusion
she sought direction
where none existed
no signs, arrows or other indication
of orderly process

she paid the fees
to the sound of her money
pouring down the drain.

Day of Rest

Sunday, on his day of rest

he moves at a frenetic pace

avoiding the masses, and memories

of lesser Sundays.

Vehicle Worship

Picking his way between
fallen branches
that litter the garden, he gazes
beyond bent-back agapanthus
seeing only his car, untouched
by the ferocity of the storm
lips moving in thanks;
a bizarre form of vehicle worship
common to many men.

Inside Golden Arches

He rested awhile

inside the golden arches

pausing, between sips

to trace cafe au lait rings

on a paper napkin.

Anna Bligh

I watched one woman stand tall
where other would bend in despair
to lead her people to safety

as Yasi moved
in from the east
giant eye open for chance.

The White Line to Nowhere

On the side of the highway, he walks
possessions balanced between two rucksacks
carried front and back
plastic bags threaded through straps
rustling in the wind

he looks at no one
on his solitary journey
eyes set on the road ahead;

the white line that never ends.

At the Bakery

At the bakery
as the temperature soars
he lifts his apron
to release a snowstorm of flour.

If only!

February Writing Challenge

February Challenge


January and Nasmastomo has passed and I'll miss this daily challenge, so I have set myself a new observational writing goal for the month of February, using poetry or prose to describe someone with whom I've had an encounter that day. This may be personal, in passing, a photograph, on television or even radio. I hope to record some small detail of their life that I might otherwise have missed. It would be wonderful if others took up this challenge as a means to inspire daily writing habits.