Downstream

The rains had come
Upstream
The twins expected thunder
But the river always
Refuses expectations
Instead
The air was still
Save the warbling of the magpies.
Cicadas, light and scorching heat,
Like the rains would never come.

Then we saw it
Slinking slowly
Like the story of the snake
The First of Us have been telling
For thousands of years.

The kids chased its head down the creek bank
As it slithered down the waterway
And I beamed in wonder
At this long withheld blessing.

I saw the twinkle of dew in Mum’s eye.

I took her hand,
And tried to forget all the days
The water had been too late for.

I whispered to her,
Maybe he had to go
Because he knew they wouldn’t listen
Unless he asked in person.

Her grip became a vice
But there was no sound
Despite the streams staining her cheeks.

So that’s how we stayed,
Hand clasped in hand,
As the kids pointed and laughed and raced
The rainbow serpent around the riverbend,
Downstream.

 

*****

This poem won first place in the Open Own Composition section at the 2019 Dubbo Eisteddfod. You can find the adjudicator’s notes on my Instagram.

The Letter

I would have written you a letter,
Scrawled in black ink across the pale page.
But alas, I did not want you to

Read too deep
Into my choice of seal.

It is an “X”
In dark, red wax.

Sealed with a kiss
From my own rouged lips,
Just like you once were.
*****
I am well aware that I didn’t post a blog for last Sunday. Take this as my apology. I don’t write poetry very often these days. I do however write a lot more letters.
x N

Lonely

I am longing for a handsome naked friend
To lie here beside me
To whisper to me softly
Kiss my forehead sweetly
Yes, I have a specific one in mind,
But tonight, anyone will do.

You’re not the only one who’s lonely.

Curious

“Why, hello there, sir!
You seem a lover-ly sir!
Such a lover-ly sir!
Do you have some peanuts?”

That’s what I said to the sir. He had no peanuts to give me. He just looked at me through a big, black eye that made a funny noise when it blinked.

CRICK!

Like a snappin’ twig! CRICK!

The sir didn’t scare me, no no no! My mother always said one should be scared of sirs, but he was a NICE sir. A lover-ly sir! All peanuts and fruit and lover-ly! Mother would be proud o’ him if he was a one of ussems, but he wasn’t an ussems. He was a sir, but no barky-barkys here. No string-falls, no trap, no trap. Not this sir!

Like I told you, told you, told you again! He was a lover-ly sir!

He smelled like he would have peanuts.

*****

Image is “Tame Squirrel” by Jerry Cooke.

Trapdoor

What are you doing at my door?
Tresssssspassssser!
Somebody ought to tell you
That it’s polite to knock.
But using of fangs is always such a rude gesture…
Somebody should tell them it’s just how I say ‘hello’
When I invite my little crrrrritters
In for our dinner parrrrrrty.

You with your big, round eye
I see you with all of mine
Hsssssssssss!
Away! Away!
You big black creature blocking the ssssssun!

BE
GONE
AWAY
AWAY
AWAY

Ssssssscrrrrrreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Image is “Hello Red Eyes…” by Fanoom

Remnants typed on my iPod

I just whipped this up a few months ago. It’s not poetry, it isn’t really prose. It isnt really even that good. (Okay it’s terrible.)

But because I am direly failing at the BEDA concept (I’m what, FIVE days behind?) I figured I could post it.

Hell, I do it all the time otherwise!

On a side note, this is the first time I have updated my blog from an email. Hopefully it will work. If you are reading this, then it appears I had nothing to fear.

– N

***

I am nothing more than your shadow,
Your widow, your blind side.
The girl you will never see properly,
The way I wished you would.
Don’t threaten me with ignorance.
Don’t threaten me with cruelty.
Don’t threaten me with cool, calm deliverance into the arms of despair,
Because whatever you offer me,
I am sure to take it,
Because it came from you.

 

Lover

Okay, so I’m sure we all caught on that Monday was Singles Awareness Day/Blood Pump Day/Valentine’s Day/a Hallmark Holiday which is all full of bullshit anyway.

I literally wrote this in the last 10 minutes. I’m tired and have a mildly upset tummy. This is unedited written-down brain-vomit.

But it’s Valentine’s Week (or something), and I kinda like it, so I’m going to post it here, in its rawest of forms. Thoughts would be appreciated. I don’t know what this will become. Maybe lyrics. Maybe nothing.

Maybe just another meaningless blog on the World Wide Web.

But it has been born, it has a name, and now, a place to live.

Enjoy it if you must.

x ND

*****

If I had a lover to call my own
I’d hold him close inside my bed
And call him “my bug”,
Pulling the blankets tight.

If I had a lover that was completely mine,
I’d tell him riddles he’d understand
And he’d say, “I’m not sure why you ask me these things
And not what we’re making for dinner.”

If a lover had me, he’d ask so sweetly,
“Will you be mine? And only mine?”
And I would say,
“I am my own, but I’m willing to share me sometimes.”

And if he were you, we’d lie beneath the stars
Picking out the constellations like a patchwork,
Listening to albums,
Listening to speeches over the radio.
We’d fumble at night time, like careless teenagers,
And you would always show me up.

If I had a lover, we’d share secret plans,
Of Middle East peace and invention schemes.
We’d write bad poetry long past midnight
And sleep in ’til long after noon.

And if he were you, I’d be a bundle of bliss,
Ticking off desires with a biro.
Counting down dreamings,
Throwing off expectations already reached.
We’d tickle each other, just for reactions,
‘Til we were flat on our backs, laughing at the world.

If you were my lover, imagine the trails we would weave and leave through time and space, like the shimmering stars that we are.
If you were my lover, we’d dance in the forest, dressed in a quilt, as rain poured down around us.
If you were my lover, it would all be a lie, but what a lie to live.

Splendid

At what point do we stop being young?
Fall out of being splendid in the dark.
When do we start taking no for an answer?
When do we begin to lose our shine,
Our magnificence,
Rubbing off on those we brush past.

The answer is never.
Your glory will always be there.
It is simply on someone else’s coattails.
It is cradled in your loved ones’ hearts.
You will always be splendid,
It’s just sometimes we are so busy admiring, we forget to remind you.