Month of Poetry – Smoko

I have been participating in writing a poem a day for the month of January and so far have only missed yesterday due to a heavy schedule of work.  Here is one of the poems from last week.



$1.50 and no line at the vending
machine.  He holds $3.20 and a funny
line to try on the denim skirt
who drives the smoko van.

From out of the lunch room
in the warehouse, “Who punched
my bus-kits?”
“Just hair brew!”

Under a shade cloth
a weld of cheese is squeezed,
drips from stained hands
on to overalls
that used to be navy blue.

Silver hair unfolds
a white salad
sandwich, bows
his head, the same
smile he wears every day
for the last thirty years.


Watch Daddy watch – MoP#4

Watch Daddy watch 
Each stone is a badge,

selected for smoothness,

its ability to belly skip,
hop when it ought to sink
though the side arm 

technique and flick 
off the finger
is a stretch 

beyond their looped 
plop.  No, not like that, watch this one 
watch this one Daddy. 


MoP #3


I don’t mean
to alarm
everyone without
good cause
but the diary
I bought and used
all last year (accurate
every day) ends
this Sunday.

Now the pallet’s gone

I drive through low areas
and ask for reminders of last
year; the string line

lick on the concrete wall,
acacias point wildly at the sky,
in the frame of a power line tower

a pallet’s splintered fingers
hold a galvanised beam. Australian
hardwood fixed with four inch nails, lifted

last January by a swollen river. CHEP?
LOSCAM? Its name painted over
in Oxley Creek brown. Maybe Brisbane

Market Corporation were forced
to take it down, or the Museum
wanted a souvenir, maybe a local

needed the
$20 deposit
you get when you return them.



Humpty Dumpty sat on a couch
in the cafe, last day of the year, in a slouch.
He ordered his usual coffee and toast
Tomorrow! I’ll sit on a wall or a post.


Happy New Years everyone!
I’m participating in Month of Poetry and hope to write a poem a day for the month of January so check back often to see if they get better or if I fall off the wall.