kipple

Sunday, November 16, 2008

MASCARA POETRY - ISSUE FOUR

Mascara Poetry have recently published Issue 4 and it's full of brilliant, stirring work by a wide range of poets from all over the world. I am very proud to have my work alongside them.

Michelle, Kim & Adam have presented one of the best publications this year.

Issue 4 features:

http://www.mascarapoetry.com/

Ashley

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Minutes

I glance at the clock
sure half an hour’s passed.
A minute has. One minute.
I look at the ceiling. Suppress tears.
Wonder if fifty years will pass
before hand-over time.
I circle the room, moving
in slow, steady steps.
Need to clear my mind.
Need to stop the noise.
It hurts to stand. To walk.
But the screaming’s subsiding.
I persist. Focus on the pain,
hope it’ll block the noise.
Son cradled in my arms
still crying, but not so desperate.
I want to look at the clock again, but
I expect only another minute
has passed and I don’t want to count,
one by one, the twenty-eight minutes
until I expect my husband back.
I hum. Sing. ‘Hush little baby...’
I rock as the words screech
He seems to be calming. I hope.
The verse is finished and I don’t know
what the next one is, what happens
to the diamond ring?
I have to think. Need to know
But the words don’t come in time
He cries louder, I’m rocking, humming.
The diamond ring? I have to know.
‘Hush little baby...’ The diamond ring?
‘If that mockingbird...’ Shit. The ring?
The clock. Twenty-four minutes to go.
I walk quickly as if it’ll help me remember.
Then, it comes. I smile. Relieved.
‘If that diamond ring don’t shine...’
Hum the rest. What if it doesn’t shine?
But I’m over it. Couldn’t care less.
I repeat the first line. Over. And over.
The crying stops. He’s looking at me.
Smiling? He’s tiny. Cute. Mine.
Still has that new baby smell.
Can’t help but to smile back.
‘Hush little baby...’ I’m still walking circles.
‘Daddy’s gonna buy...’ I hear a car in the driveway.
Move to the front window. Sing ‘Daddy’s home.’
But I’ve forgotten it’s hand-over time and
Daddy walks in and kisses both of us.
‘Hush little baby...’

Tiggy Johnson

(first appeared in Tamba 38: Winter 2006)

http://www.pageseventeen.com.au/Tiggy.htm

Thursday, October 30, 2008

Not Going Anywhere - Robert Morris

Not Going Anywhere

darling she said
not that you'd leave
but should I find you
if you do
I think you know
what I'd do.
Things, born of love
threats
drops of poison from a bottle
I'm not forgiving
I'd throttle you
and if there were another woman
I'd kill her too
now let's forget all this
come sit here
in your favourite chair
I know
you'd not
go
anywhere.

Robert Morris

http://www.smallchangepress.com.au/titles.htm

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

Levels of Incapacity - Jane Williams

Levels of Incapacity

it seems only yesterday

he was free loving his way

around a world open to

suggestion his suggestion

now unexpectedly sixty

the wrong side of a pension

fresh from a triple bypass

he shouldn’t have survived

trying to explain why he prefers

meditation to medication

for the pain he can’t otherwise prove

to the young customer service officer

wearing jeans for genes day

(there’s a brochure on his desk)

smiling rhetoric like the myth

of his own immortality depends on it

gauge your level of incapacity

professional evaluation

here to assist you in any way we can

back into the workforce

Jane Williams

http://janewilliams.wordpress.com/

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Storm - Jonathan Hadwen

Storm

like a storm that does not mean to sink a ship

your sadness settles on this tiny house,

we founder, the dog and I

until gasping we flee outside,

a brief saunter in the eye

while over dripping trees

clouds can be seen

all around.

Jonathan Hadwen

http://www25.brinkster.com/jkhey/poetry/index.asp

Monday, September 22, 2008

Even the Wind Has a Poem - Julie Beveridge

Even the Wind has a Poem

words spill
from sleeping mouths

walls hold secrets
exposed in cracks

even the wind
has a poem

i wait for inspiration
to teach itself to read and write

in the drunk and dimly lit
corridors of my mind

feeding myself deliberate lines
i edge off the excess of language

into a blank and patient page

Julie Beveridge

http://www.cordite.org.au/?p=918

Sunday, September 7, 2008

Lily - Michelle Cahill

Lily
(photograph by Ian Cameron)

Not the lilies, their November tongues or clitoral folds
or her almond shaped eyes that follow the camera lens,
but something about the stems strapped to thigh, how
hands buckle down the gnarled, uneven stalk each length
locked in the hiatus of hips; lips profiled with irony say
with vagina and sass you can go a long way and some…
Satin ruched over her best points like a minimalist gorge.
Art in the corners of her mouth breathes a private sigh.

Michelle Cahill
(First appeared in 4W, Issue 18)
www.ipoz.biz/titles/ac.htm
http://www.mascarapoetry.com/