School Cycle

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Many thanks to the fabulous Blue 
Hour magazine for publishing my 
haiku,'School Cycle'. 

I wrote these poems earlier this 
year, around the time my youngest 
child started school.She was 
absolutely fine  I, on the other 
hand, had a rather pathetic mummy 
crisis! 

Yep, it was all about me...but I'm feeling much better now. :-)

You can read the haiku here, along with plenty of other great quality writing!

HOARY

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Mammoth1

I am very excited to have my poem, ‘Hoary’, published in the wonderful Tincture Journal. Tincture is a quarterly online magazine full of great quality fiction, essays, interviews, and poetry. And it is only $8 an issue! You can have a look at some of Tincture’s free content  here, and please consider buying  a copy. It’s one of my favourite reads.

In the meantime, Tincture’s editors, Daniel Young and Stuart Barnes, have kindly given me permission to share my poem with you. I’ve included a short synopsis, which goes some way towards explaining the poem, and perhaps also to explaining a little about myself!

Synopsis

I have a strange fascination for mammoths. These huge, extinct creatures which emerge, often perfectly preserved, from the ice, appear to me to be like some unconscious, repressed memory of the earth, reluctantly resurfacing. As global warming speeds up the melting of the planet’s ice, more and more of these monstrous snow whites, suspended in their frozen graves, are being discovered. Recently, a sixty year old female mammoth, her body still so fresh that her blood was flowing, was unearthed – leading scientists to believe that they may have found enough viable genetic material to produce a clone…

HOARY

Fifteen thousand years I have slumbered
In my icy casket, a hoary
Princess waiting
Not to be kissed, but punctured
By the pick of a prying scientist.

My blood, dark as a fairy tale
Leached insidiously into the Siberian snow,
And my flesh flared red and fresh
Enough to eat.

My lower limbs devoured
By a lusty pack of ancient wolves;
My torso still fantastically intact.

What a prize: my anti-cryogenic
Strength has preserved the code
To conjure my kind back.

Exhumed from earth’s wet memory
(Who dares re-awaken me?)
Entombed in glass and sold for obscene show -
What they may unleash they do not know.

Rapture

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walking-in-rain-gray
I have had a new poem, Rapture, published in Deep Water Literary Journal.

This fabulous new journal seeks to "become a haven for those who write about 
and produce artworks interpreting Darkness, whatever that may mean to the 
creator of the work". 

Their first issue for the year is themed 'Loss' - it contains some 
fantastic artwork, fiction, and poems. You can read mine below, or at 
Deep Water here.

Rapture

Looking through clear eyes
of imminent death, time
is a ponderous fruit,
hanging heavy and swollen
with possibility
in her pendulous swinging basket.

Globular and over-ripe
she blooms with all the days
you will not see,
a still life of
fecundity squandered,
without witness, unconsumed.

God, to take just one more
bite, and this time really savour
the sweet juices running
down the face
and the fingers sticky
and tingling with
the messiness of it all -

would be a rapture.
But, no matter:
we must carry on without her,

disentwining from this world
despite the drive to cling and cling and
aching from the amputated
limb of our projections, we are roused
by wise compulsion to accept
life has been spent,
and we must move on, relentlessly

on, without choice leaving
all those little things unsaid,
and undone,
without choice shedding
the slithery skin that houses us,
but locks us in, and further
our very sense of selves
must fall in cascades of disguise,
unravelling us for – the chill surprise!
of running naked, out into the rain.

The Lover

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I have had a new poem published in PASH capsule, a fabulous Facebook page that deals in “contemporary romantic-erotic poetry and provocation” – sounds like fun!

This poem is a whiteout of a paragraph from Marguerite Duras’s wonderful novella, The Lover. Whiteout (or blackout) poetry is made by erasing words in a text, leaving behind a few carefully selected words to form a poem.

It’s actually a lot harder than it sounds! However it’s also a hugely enjoyable process which encourages a playful approach to writing, challenging you to create unexpected images and make unusual connections.

Please let me know what you think, and if you are on Facebook, you can check out PASH here.

Pash

Christmas Haiku

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Dear all,

Many thanks to those who take the time to visit, like and comment on this 
blog - it is so greatly appreciated! I have not had time to write much 
recently, but will leave you with a few haiku - snapshots of my 
Australian Christmas, where feasting, sharing, backyard cricket, and 
swimming, are in order. 

May you have a peaceful and relaxing holiday! 

Michele x

 Beach-Santa_729-620x349 (1)

Santa snoozes
in the outfield,                     
pigs in blankets                

the bush throbs
a cicada's shrill 
tinnitus

grandfather's
magic -
reindeer dash
across the childhood sky