.
my Japanese friend…
‘Why you do not celebrate
Jacarandas?’
.
.
my Japanese friend…
‘Why you do not celebrate
Jacarandas?’
.
.
I must have been
about seven.
We would often
go fishing as a family.
This time uncle Dennis
came with us and said
to my folks
in his broad Bristolian accent,
“He is no fisherman!”
My mum defended in her
diplomatic way.
I just stood and listened.
.
This piece isn’t about
the small man
my uncle Dennis must have been,
saying this to a
seven year old boy.
Everyone
has had a voice
saying
“You’re not good enough.”
from a teacher, parent or someone.
my question is…
.
Why would my memory
choose
to
remember
t h o s e w o r d s
from 25 years ago?
.
Why, when my memory
has forgotten countless
better memories like
the scent of the air
between lips as I leaned
in for my first kiss?
Or the feeling of my feet first
standing on a surfboard,
skidding along a moving curve of ocean.
.
Why keep a photo
of uncle ‘I’m not good enough’
on the wall
of my memory?
Why play that scratchy sound recording
so crisply in my
adult ears?
.
It seems so stupid.
.
.
.
returning
to the place he died…
weathered
.
weeds growing neatly
between pavers
in this footpath
.
in the morning sun
a spider checking taut lines
– wish we were camping
.
this pawpaw tree‘s fruit
– needing support
.
wooden fence
heading back to nature
.
I wrote so many versions of these Aussie haiku and struggled with some of the edits. Here are some earlier versions of two of them. Particularly for my Brisbane poet friend Jdub. Let me know which reads better.
.
hot and sleepless
karaoke through the night
– Willie Wagtails
.
Why do I expect
Anything from this billabong?
– silence
.
.
sultry
all night karaoke
– Willie Wagtails
.
hopping back again…
– in the billabong
dust
.
green in the centre,
– first test Gabba pitch,
outside… jacarandas
.
I recently found this essay from John Bird, editor of Haiku Dreaming relating to the use of ‘kigo’ (season words) in Australian haiku. There are so many ideas (rules) being thrown around on the issue of ‘correct’ haiku. It is an interesting read for those learning about English language haiku, especially when living in a different hemisphere. The discovery of Haiku Dreaming made me look through my ‘ku’ with a distinct Aussie theme.
.
.
.
a kick in my back
from the depths…
of her womb
.
.
.
.
the dog down the street
used to be friendly…
what happened?
.
my friend
across the water…
we wave
(for Kenia Cris)
.
watching Spring rain,
holding my baby niece…
– feeling her eyes
.
Tomorrow marks three years since Isaiah died. It is true, time makes a difference. It doesn’t heal, it becomes more familiar each bout in the ring. We learn to live with the pain and carry on. Written back in January 2008.
.
In my pocket is a piece of my heart.
It is a good place for it.
Close by to me
within reach.
.
This piece is broken from the rest.
Its weight changes
like a piece of wood
burdened with water, it sinks
.
deep
into
sorrow.
Too heavy for my pocket
.
I pull it out
carefully, but the edges
are too sharp
to hold for long.
.
Not for my hands
the pain
cuts my eyes
and into my right. Tears
.
splash concrete.
I place the piece
back in my pocket
and continue working.
.