When I’m looking for a place to go I say to myself “hey na vro po” cos sometimes I just wanna go slow you know so I clear my head with hey na vro po
it works like a dream every time I let off steam I really unwind to small animals and children I become very kind after hey na vro po that’s what I find
it’s sort of like floating in your mind you levitate and leave reality behind looking down around you you look for signs of where you’ve been or are going it’s not defined
I sometimes follow myself walking down the street my mind is vacant I’m walking a slow beat I’m heading for a park to take a seat and visiting the park feels really neat so I sit gently down I put up my feet
I lean my head back to look up at the sky it’s empty as my brain except a bird flies by the bird is blue but it has a happy cry hey na vro po everything is right with the sky
it’s so nice in a space where the world is green where everything is cool a scene to be seen I stretch out my arms along the seat in a dream I then stretch out my legs and watch motes in a sunbeam
there are couples walking and families at play there’s some kangaroos looking at me as if to say so you’ve treated yourself to a hey na vro po day well don't let us get in your way
good for you you deserve it mate to take your empty self out and about is great it's kind of like a one person date hope you find the sweet spot in your mindless state
you can learn a thing or two from a kangaroo when they look into your eyes just look back too you’ll find a blankness you should aspire to too for they are excellent role models for you high quality lounging is what they like to do
so you lounge on the grass to watch life pass you soak up sun as you stretch out and bask you discover that lying on the grass is no task you allow yourself to doze without being asked and it doesn't matter one bit how long it lasts
twilight arrives as the sun starts to go down time to go home walk back through the town hey na vro po waylays any frown you're so relaxed you don't mind downtown brown still you weave some colourful flowers into a crown another hey na vro po day you sought and you found so you walk back with your feet just above the ground
If I had wanted to tell you the truth I would have I think you should acknowledge that you should think about it because when you understand why you will either love me more than ever or hate me forever
either way I will know I made the right decision and we will see the greater truth come to pass together
It is the weight of the heat that I struggle to bear a relentless oppressiveness that burns my skin I am surrounded by its stillness its density dehydration works from the outside in my surface is sweaty gritty debris constant exposure is to wither and shade is no relief at 48 degrees the sun robs me of my water a remorseless thief
I went down to see the majority in action gathering in the square the surging crowd the chanting voice of many people was there yet I missed the referring whisper of others from the crowd the minority of a democracy was absent / quiet as a shroud and whither was their point of view drowned by slogans and revile the future of inclusiveness dominated by slurs that defile I looked for the different colours here the different sounds and where I found such difference I did recoil at its oppressed nature there then cans were rattled the songs were long about victory and strength but for those lost and weak who did not belong there was to be no defence as push came to shove and drama spilled onto this public stage the large protest became a test of where the power is really laid how it would be used to push a point of view not clear to absolutely everyone unless to power they were already connected or held the butt of a gun there is apparently no place for everyone under our glowing democratic sun for those left out it was time to think and maybe time to run
We recently had to evacuate three generations of our family from three households across northern and central Victoria. Due to multiple and extensive bushfires, we watched with anxiety as they flared and ebbed and flared again towards our various homes. Fortunately, we all returned to intact houses. Many were not so lucky.
As the climate situation gets worse, with every New Summer we feel the new fear rise again.
All work is my own and you can share it as much as you like.
I meet her every Sunday morning we have two cups of tea I haven’t been sure why I go but she seems to like to see me
I guess it’s because she’s lonely and I’m the only one left around with any sort of connection to her for her it’s a pretty empty town
she always puts a face on and she has two types of tea would I prefer black or green? a nice gesture but it’s all the same to me
maybe a couple of biscuits? shortbreads or Chocolate Royals artfully presented on a floral plate immediately after the kettle has boiled
we start with a chat about the weather during the previous week we could talk about it forever but actually that’s not why we meet
she was ninety last December you wouldn’t know it though all her friends and rellies dead and gone I guess that makes my visits a special sort of show
me, her brother’s son’s son I didn’t even know we were related until she called me on the phone she said she had something to give me since her nephew was now also gone
I was hesitant, but I went around choosing right from wrong and we seemed to settle into a pattern after great great grandad’s medals she passed on
it’s interesting I guess hearing about her life and she asks about mine too I think she wants to check I’m not in any strife
she was in a war too you know New Guinea at the bottom of the Kokoda Trail a young nurse waiting for injured soldiers she has many stories that make me smile
..... and she has lots of horror stories too
one day she let on one of those soldiers was her dear oldest brother he didn’t make it to the hospital tent she told me he was dead by the time they got him down she says the world lost a rascal and a gent he’d been stabbed in the stomach and hit by a round they gave her a morning off to grieve and to see his body sent in the tropical heat the Japanese bayonet wound had gone septic
she became a union activist after the war was over the women had been doing the “men’s” work but when the men returned working women were just seen as a bother she saw her job as helping women stand up for what was right she was then regarded largely as a teacup without a storm but she was really a true pioneer, one with great foresight because even though inequality for women again became the norm still she stood up spoke out and fronted for the fight
she says the women had proved their worth nonetheless she says she has never been bitter even if society again reverted to the patriarchal curse it just encouraged to try harder for more jobs and equal pay sad she says though that equal pay for women is still not a reality today
she has outlived her husband and three children now sometimes she talks about them sadly then she always perks up when she says how she can still recount their quirks and talents I learn ever more about them quite gladly
my parents are divorced and always hostile and angry consequently I don’t want to see them much however I do sometimes wonder if they ever talk about me with such a loving parental touch?
I tell her about my partner and my favourite things in life she listens intently to my prattling and often offers up good advice
come to think of it I kind of like it this tea for two with my great aunt in fact I can’t think of a better way to spend a Sunday morning if I’m honest I really can’t.
All work is my own unless otherwise stated. I do not use AI.
I wake at 4 in the morning in the small hours when small things matter and ideas can repeat in your brain taking on more significance than they deserve eroding your ability to unwind like a tap dripping in the next room
but not this morning this morning it is soft rain I hear gently tinkling on the metal of the carport roof outside
it is warm under the covers I feel secure as your soft regular breathing resumes after you roll onto your side next to me
was it an interrupted dream? I like not knowing everything that goes on in your head after all these years you can still surprise me
I snuggle up to your back and rest my forehead between your shoulder blades as I contemplate what it is to be us your heels settle into the angle of my ankles your calves align with my shins your thighs mold to mine and your backside schmoozes deliciously into my groin
I raise my head to create more space so I can wrap my arms around you pulling your upper body into mine
as my arms embrace your warmth I soak up your textures I draw in your smell with my eyes closed I sense every point at which we touch
I feel our body rhythms synchronise as my muscles relax and my mind smiles with the intimate pleasure of as much body contact as we can muster I savour the moment as peaceful sleep reclaims me
For today’s dVerse Poetics, Sanaa asked we poets to write a poem about love as something quietly sacred — not just roses and hearts, but the small, unseen ways. A confession upfront, I wrote this poem for my wife years ago. It remains one of my favourites and I thought it fitted the prompt so well I just had to repost it. FYI, this poem still speaks the truth. My darling, I love you.
The last time I saw my mother she sent me a kiss across the void. Two fingers touched her puckered lips, then cast into the air was a kiss at the mercy of the stiff breeze blowing everyone’s hats away. Was I meant to catch it? I have never really been sure. One reason was it appeared to be barely cast in my direction, the other was that she was in fact looking at her new husband as her hand regally flicked yet another token on another impossible journey of placation. She, number three plus stupid yappy little dog were on a boat to somewhere. Ten year old me? I was left standing on the dock unaware somewhere meant this was our last almost acknowledgement of each other. One thing I learnt that day to believe forever is lips forget what they have kissed.
For today’s dVerse 144 word prosery challenge, Mish chose the following line from Toni Morrison’s evocative poem, “Eve Remembering”. “Lips forget what they have kissed.” Besides writing eleven novels, five children’s books, two plays and an opera, Toni was the author of “Five Poems“, first published in 2002. You can read them here (well worth a read). I chose to respond to the challenge with a work of flash fiction that hits the 144 word sweet spot precisely.
The morning was full of parrots They clambered over chairs many perched amongst the maples and through the windows they did stare their incessant voices calling their colours deep and and bright I wondered how long they had been there? had they been out there all night? it was bedlam on the verandah it was getting messy on the deck all so they could have a gander the new occupants they came to check would we feed them like they were used to? or leave them to their own means? were they welcome to visit regularly? or was that just a parrot dream?
I met a hungry echidna with spiky spines all over I’m not kiddin’ ya it flicked its tongue from its beak for the ants it did seek you thought I was kiddin ya, didn’t ya?
If I breathed the word that disappeared all people in the world leaving the world to the world would you say it? would you sing it out loud?
'the word' by me (quite the coincidence)
If I quietly secretly speak to you the word of enchantment that can depopulate the entire planet of humankind
would you speak it loud to the wind that it would blow across every landscape cleansing the earth with its gusting breath,
would you set it free to ride the thermals such that it spirals up and down remixing balance into a newly fresh and transparent sky,
would you let it dive into the depths and immerse itself below the waves and placid surfaces of every body of water to de-litter and detoxify every single liquid drop?
would you mourn the loss of your brothers and sisters so that biodiversity can flourish and evolve uncorrupted once again?
would you speak such a word of power to return the world to Gaia, to Mother Nature’s control in the absence of every man and woman?
Houses want speaking From their roofs tales are leaking They pass through the ceilings Into the rooms Drip down the walls Pool on the floors To flow under the doors To listeners they are seeking
I had a chance to do something good someone was hurting so I thought I would unusual for me cos I often lie or cheat I don’t usually care much as long as the outcome my aims will meet but for the first time I recognised true love and how a new outcome could be more important than winning than more money more important than me so I did something strange associated with feelings of anxiety and stress unlike some others who willingly clean up another’s mess likely easier for them because they’ve often been generous likely harder for little me because generous is onerous but truly I gave up a wish to seize yet another opportunistic chance to benefit from another’s love lost by tragedy and mischance so I gifted a stolen memento of deep love and romance instead of using emotional blackmail for richer personal finance ask yourself as I do what is the future for a con man like me watch this space and watch your wallet to discover what you will or will not see
apparently a generous man personable, sharing, reliable, a trusted friend
naive to human machinations, a happy and ever optimistic giver he laughed in company with good humour and genuine pleasure
he aspired to making life better for people when he met with individuals they felt his sincere interest and care when they needed him he was always there
he encouraged others to act on their talent and supported them in becoming their very best he encouraged them to think clearly be confident in their every quest
and so I now know my father better alas, only in illness and death did we finally come together
Does the mesmerist beguile a subject by witchery or is it a persona so attractive resistance is futile an hypnotic charm wrapped up in charisma so potent one succumbs as does iron to the magnet where at the right distance attraction becomes an irresistible command
On the other side of the fence it was the alterity that surprised me packed in close and dense were a people the like I had never seen their long black braids down to the waist straight noble noses their faces graced recessed brown eyes deep under heavy brows dark olive skin and standing proud their gaudy costumes coloured and loud
until you looked closer to see the signs of violence they had suffered in our friendly so called “liberation” I had wondered what that statement meant and the shame I felt was deep and grew the more I looked the more I knew we would be responsible for their demise because our friendly intentions were just a guise and I could never see it otherwise now damn my eyes
Even if I sometimes manage to help to ease the pain anytime you might start again with rivers of tears like acid rain eating at everything good again
I love you and I don’t know what you’re going through but my love remains true you can still see it, can’t you?
when you cry fouled rivers run the darkest shadows cross the sun cyclone clouds further blacken the day the very rainbows turn themselves to grey the sun finally puts it’s light away
for you the whole world turns to bleak anxiety and fear empty of hope and cheerless the sadness is so deep and so near so profound it breaks my heavy weather beaten heart as icy words you shoot at me feel needle like poisoned darts
this melancholy is so wretched it puts our life on hold I don’t know what to do how to bring you in from the cold but I will keep trying and in my safe warm wings you I will still enfold
I am going to tell you a story about what began, thus .,,,, our underused garage became a room for rumpus. Little did we anticipate the rowdiness it would encompass, when rowdy young children began to rumpus plus plus! Discuss the matter further we must.
This week Kim challenged we poets to craft a quadrille around the word “rumpus”. This is an almost true story. Only the children have changed. https://dversepoets.com/2025/08/25/quadrille-230-lets-kick-up-a-rumpus/
Enough enough I’ve heard enough of your bleating voices of your derogatory stuff of your divisive policies your dumb ignorant rants your jumping around like you have ants in your pants your discriminatory whinging about difference like it’s bad when diversity and creativity are the best things humans have when you wear ignorance like a medal and stupidity like a gong your lack of clear thinking shows something in your head has gone wrong so for once in your life do something good sit down and shut up __________ try to learn - if you could
(for wider application insert here _________ the name of your own idiot populist leader)
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