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
My whispers to the morning
will not wake this sleeping brood
they whisper of the dawning
of the pastel colours hued
my whispers to the daytime
are those of habitude
of daily tasks and courtesy
none offensive, base nor rude
my whispers to the evening
are subtly subdued
yet another day is passing
but sunset is still well viewed
my whispers to the night
are those pleading quietude
contentment is a household
resting in subdued attitude
my whispers in my sleep
tell of my servitude
spoken in such a whisper
such that life comes not unglued
If only you had stayed, I would have learnt to love black days like bright ones with you. Why wouldn’t you? We could have learnt together. Such contrasts are about opportunities, about understanding different perspectives, about understanding each other and how to live and love together. All sorts of days come and go. All types of moods. There are enough days for everything we could imagine sharing - good days and bad. If only you’d waited to see how bright the future could be. If only you had taken the time to see through the clouds to the clear air beyond, to project us into that space of hope and optimism. Instead you allowed us to falter at the first hurdle without even thinking to explore how we could make the dark days bright again. You succumbed to the transient storm as if it would last forever.
This week Kim’s dVerse Prosery Prompt comes from Walcott’s Dark August , “I would have learnt to love black days like bright ones with you.” The task was to write up to 144 words of prose incorporating this line. I chose to write a flash fiction about the disappointment of a short love affair quickly lost to stormy weather – in 144 words.
Waiting for the 2.42
nothing much else to do
so we cuddle and kiss
oblivious
to the sensibilities of the other pair
sitting there
There is a room in a house on a hill without doors
nobody knows what it was put there for
because nobody knows that it has no doors
the room in the house is alone and forlorn
trapped by its emptiness without any doors
never able to hope for better or more
ne’er an open door through which to explore
In the Valley there are few trees now
since white settlement the river gums have bled
steadily back into ever depleting soil
the dehydrating sap bleeding red
some majestic sentinels remain
on final watch across the floodplain
of gritty dust and cropped introduced grasses
as the parade of indigenous extinction passes
withdrawing from the flats
retreating across the hills
ascending to heaven after suffering grave ills
and the broken remnains of centuries of trees
stand skeletal or lie shattered on the ground
as if awaiting a last chance for redemption
after each falling whoosh and final thump of sound
in atonement for overseeing the loss of forest
they crave to protect their young who escape the cut
of plough or chainsaw or grazing teeth they
enfold survivors in fractured parental branches
fostering the roots beneath
attempting nurture of trunk and leaf
but they have nothing left to bequeath
to young individuals left standing exposed
to sadly age in grief
witness to a parasitic human occupation
a relentless quest by the future’s thief
Water water
in that hole
I see water in that hole
been so dry a heavy toll
now I see water in a hole
drinking drinking
drinking up
I keep drinking hands a cupped
all that water it’s going down
I keep drinking though it’s brown
walking staggering
just how far
to another waterhole reservoir
the door of hope is now ajar
waterholes be my repertoire
heat and sun
pounding down
no further waterhole to be found
in the lee of boulders I go to ground
to die in shade without a sound
Cockatoos walk the walk
they are smart and bold
they talk the talk
human or squawk
they are social and caring
for others in the flock
they live for decades
100 years they can clock
I watched him as we sat upon the deck of the sinking ship
the stern about to dip
our chairs starting to slip
our hands white in their grip
he wondered where we would be tomorrow
he stood as fires erupted upon the tilting deck
walked around the wreck
sought every way to check
for escape that he did seek
only to find himself on the rails of sorrow
the water now was rushing over both our cold wet feet
with no sign of relief
in sadness and in grief
life’s surging wild thief
he told me he wished well for his wife and children
I looked at him I took him into embracing arms
no protection here from harm
just wishing to disarm
anxiety and alarm
one last moment of loving calm
when going under the waves was the only given
we held each other standing there on the edge of fading hope
to the horizon we did look
to the water of our grave
cold and churning were the waves
then into each others eyes
resigned to our good byes
we held hands before stepping forward
the last things I remember are treading water in my doubt
the water in my mouth
the imminent blackout
wishing I’d never roamed
my loved ones left at home
wishing I’d never sailed
slipping under as strength failed
his tired smile as we fell
that I forgot to tell him how much I loved him
then came the wings of rescue they winched me up into the sun
I the chosen one
the sky it turned to gold
but I had lost my hold
on my brother and my friend
who supported me to the end
all I could think was how much I’m going to miss him
it’s been ten watery years passing underneath my bridge
I’m wasted and I’m damaged
with nothing left to salvage
I relive our time together
the fractured brother tether
brothers ever a pair
ever together everywhere
and here I am still left with no way of knowing
how I can go on without my brothers song
days are dark and long
I think it’s time I must be going
underneath the waves
my lonely soft parade
in hope that I will find
my brother left behind
always on my mind
I want to join him on death’s seas a rowing
together across the waves
nothing in it brave
just our watery grave
and our time together saved
All work is my own and subject to copyright. I do not want AI to use my work.
RL 21.500 is a line in the sand
between two opposing camps
which one will make the first move?
it is going to happen AAM
(At Any Moment)
don't look away
or you might miss it
Let memento morte inspire you to a life of health.
Let carpe diem motivate you to enjoy life’s wealth.
if a bullet were a feather
susceptible to the weather
denied its trajectory and death wish
lost its velocity lost its hiss
only then would it always miss
its appointment with death's kiss
poetography.ink 