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.
dancing in the living room
to The Beatles Twist and Shout
shaking off all the gloom
working it all out
will I dance tomorrow?
you better believe it mate
because there’s always something to look forward to tomorrow
and free dancing feels great
I do a little bit of a twist
a bit of rock around the clock
I like to give it my best
a bit of pop and lock
if anyone wants to join me
rock, techno, blues or pop
there's no aggro or shaming
just celebrating music until you drop
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.
All work is my own. I do not use AI.
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?
There is a cut elm log
in the shade of a large ash tree
on which I like to sit out of the sun
from which I like to look out
or in at me
who am l? I ask
most reverently
then discussion ensues
determinedly
I pause to think
on the answers I hear
I pause and reflect
on what comes to bear
with my elbows placed
gently
upon my knees
I balance my chin
while I shoot the breeze
in memory I keep
a record of my thoughts
from under the tree
where ideas are caught
my log from a log
stores in signs and degrees
while I sit in the shade
shooting the breeze
Can you keep a secret?
I wonder if you can?
You mustn't laugh!
You mustn't cry,
but do the best you can!
‘so the peloton passed’ by Simon Armitage
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?
do you want to know that word?
will I tell it you?
will you speak it?
will you?
No?
Then I will.
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
My poetry will die with me
It will not be a painful death
Just one that runs out of breath
In death
I learn of my father’s life
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
With the perfect girl l lie
she’s beside me under the bluest blue sky
it’s for her favour I vie
tall tales I anxiously try
through me she spies
she denies and defies my lies
inside I die
she says if you want me don’t lie
on you I want to rely
be truthful or good bye
with joy I cry
I never wanted to lie
I was so scared she wouldn’t even try
to let me be her guy
I’m high
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
I want to talk
talk talk talk
I want to talk
talk talk talk
oh will you talk
talk talk talk
oh will you talk
talk talk talk
why won’t you talk
talk talk talk
why won’t you talk
talk talk talk
we need to talk
talk talk talk
we need to talk
talk talk talk
or else I walk
walk walk walk
or else I walk
walk
wa
lk
w
a
l
k
.
.
.
.
. . . . . . . . . .
away
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)
Everybody say yeah ………. “Yeah”
Everybody say yeah ……… “Yeah”
Everybody say yeah & stamp one foot ………. “yeah”
Everybody say yeah & stamp two feet ………. “yeah”
That’s cool!
yeah this is where it’s at
yeah I'm on the stage
and I’m here with you
and you're all with me
and you’re into it too
yeah this is the place
where I come to share
safe and sound and full of care
and it fucking feels good man
sharing poetry that moves me
with an audience like you
playing your part
- I think it’s groovy!
let me hear you say yeah - yeah
let me hear you say yeah - yeah
yeah when Wednesday night comes around
and I’m getting ready to come into town
and I’m wondering what’s about to go down
I can't wait to hear the next freaked out round
then I’m thinking about what words I’ll do
at The Motley where yeah it’s such a great crew
so I don’t have to ask will the audience stay true
because the people who come are true through and through
let me hear you say yeah - yeah
let me hear you say yeah - yeah
I pick a couple of old ones or write something new
I fine tune and sometimes I even rehearse too
I try to mix them up something funny something blue
a love poem a commentary something from my muse
because I want to have my say and I want to have fun
and to please you all, isn’t that why we all come?
let me hear you say yeah - yeah
let me hear you say yeah - yeah
Let me hear you say yeah and stamp one foot - yeah
Let me hear you say yeah and stamp two foot - yeah
yeah yeah yeah
alright!
I don’t drink beer and I don’t drink wine
I’ve had to make adjustments and it’s sort of been fine
but I do drink Coca Cola because I think it’s nice
and my daughter says I’m allowed one vice
addendum
please note if you are buying me a drink
I ask you to take a moment to be considerate and think
be sure it’s not supermarket cola or that Pepsi shit
because I can assure you I really don’t like either
not one little bit
