As the poetry war shuffled further into January, Susan [@ReadUpsideDown to twitter folk] and I found our themes and styles branching out considerably. Sometimes it was inspiration from the other regular posters at the blog. Other times we couldn’t help but be influenced by the world around us. We hope you enjoy more of our efforts. At time of posting, there are only 4 more days to go, and I think I might have to sharpen my blade for a bit more fun at Sooze’s expense
Thanks again to Kat Apel at Month of Poetry, for the opportunity to try something neither of us has really been involved in before!
Day 10 – Meredith
The Virtuosos
Once a week down the street we strolled,
Each blithely clutching a violin case;
Laughter dancing across each face,
Couldn’t imagine we’d ever get old.
Our teacher’s expression was carefully controlled
Not a twitch or flinch could we ever trace
As to the end of a piece we did race.
“Please practise, girls!” she often cajoled.
Our squeaks and squawks she always endured
With beatific grace and saintly goodwill,
Through discordant versions of songs tried and true .
Susan, I remain to this day reassured,
With our horrible tones ringing in my ears still,
That I was never (no never!) as woeful as you!
Note: Not true. We were definitely equally terrible violinists, but Susan plays the flute AND the piano quite well, so she has much less of an excuse.
Extra note: This is a petrarchan sonnet. Bow down before my awesomeness!
Day 11 – Susan
We Talk
With our children we talk and talk and talk
Sometimes heard, sometimes ignored
Sharing our thoughts, our instructions, our love
With our workmates we talk and talk and talk
Sometimes heard, sometimes ignored
Sharing our time, but not ourselves
With acquaintances we talk and talk and talk
Sometimes heard, sometimes ignored
Sharing facts and smiles, skimming the surface
With friends we talk and talk and talk
Sometimes deep, sometimes light-hearted
Sharing the meaning behind the words
Day 12 – Meredith
A small diversion. This poem was written during the Queensland flood crisis. The news from Toowoomba and the Lockyer Valley stunned us all, and the images of Brisbane battening down the hatches brought back memories of another city in crisis.
Novocastrians
In ’89 the earth shook –
Trembling, crumbling, tumbling down.
Under our feet the concrete heaved.
We were tossed
Like surfers on the swell.
Soot streamed down the walls,
Painting the legacy of a steel town.
Sirens pierced the shocked silent city.
Radios clattering and chattering.
No good news today.
Rosaries fall softly from the lips of the devout
Carrying thoughts and prayers to the suffering.
Cracks opened our houses to the world.
The world opened their hearts to us.
We steeled ourselves to stand
And rose from the rubble.
A community forged by disaster.
Now we turn our faces to the north
And send our message of courage
And hope.
Day 13 – Susan
Two dear old friends, sitting down to share some tea
The clever one is you and the quirky one is me
In twenty years when our hair has turned to grey
Will we still fill endless hours with the things we want to say?
Day 14 – Meredith
Although we’ve got friendship down to a fine art
Much remains unsaid.
It’s time to reveal my innermost heart:
I really love …
your shortbread!
Day 15 – Susan
You Love My Shortbread?
Simple
Homemade
Offering
Representing
Traditional
Baking
Requiring
Eating
And
Digesting
Day 16 – Meredith
Another teen memory. I really don’t know why Susan & I felt a debut was necessary, as it really wasn’t either of our styles. The re-emergence of some old photos recently proved that in fact “style” was not present at all at the occasion!
Debutante Ball
Taffeta butterflies
flit about
the ornate corridors
of the town hall.
Black moth partners
lurch about
the dancefloor,
trapped in a strange place
dazzled by our white light.
A curtsey to the monsignor
and a curtsey to the lord mayor
before we may fly
about their carefully tended garden.
Tonight we flutter
underneath their artificial light
but the wild world calls
and tomorrow
we will fly away.