Tuesday, 22 December 2020
Wednesday, 11 November 2020
Mask
The model mask, the medical mask,
The non-political mask. Don’t ask.
The unspeakable mask, the spoken-for mask,
The chinless wonder, three-ply downunder.
The bergamask, the back-off mask,
The bigger better mask. Bugger the mask.
The smile mask, vote mask, breathe mask,
Style mask, float mask, death mask.
Good to see you, what there is of you to see.
Nice to put a name to a mask.
This waiting game. This florid mouthguard
When the signal all-clear. The lip synch.
This strap-on task. This nosy farce.
When’s party time. The Hallelujah Chorus.
Tuesday, 6 October 2020
Thursday, 1 October 2020
Tuesday, 29 September 2020
Globe
Not a sonnet, the Globe was his closet
Changing
stages being the given chances
Worst
fallen we scribble into existence
Famewards.
But attend to it, exit prone.
Windows
burning all the night
As
words turned paper to tragedy.
His
family alone in rivery country,
His
pen finding fault in persons.
But
harder to refute, the right
In
anyone’s argument, their turning belief
And
silences that like hours seem.
Fitting
each phrase in its spiral down
To
nothing, up to the flags’ array
Watching
for his choice moment, Mercy.
Saturday, 12 September 2020
Tuesday, 11 August 2020
Sign
winter sunrise
play area closed
plane flight a pastime of
the past
the working week again breakfast
take away only
online headlines
woman alone on train alone
stay home save lives
on her phone alone
morning magpies
one point five metres apart
peck for nature strip
worms
wide blue sky
thank you for your understanding at this
time
empty road
once quick brown stick went
click and collect
in the maw of the jaw-drop dog
carpark vacant grids
storewide reductions
carpark line ups with
symptoms
holdups at the bank
please wear a face covering
speechless in small groups
chairs stacked lights out
thank you for dining in with us
bain-marie deep cleaned
leaves curl in the wind
follow directional arrows
assemble rest
computer non-stop verbals
face masks required
its fingertip worlds
highway with nobody
shop capacity is eight
apartments of one
they glow in the day
wash your hands regularly
they glow in the night
winter sunset
sorry we’ve had to close again
night a place to dream
staring at the known world
for
more information visit
knownworld dot com
curfew
etiquette
keep your distance where you can
you
and the gatepost
heavy
rain
your wellbeing is our priority
trees
take hits
Sunday, 19 July 2020
Mist
Library Lockdown: Two Sonnets
Philip Harvey
[Missed]
Thump of returns chute, earphones unmute
Clatter of trolley, splatter of brollies
Beep beep of beep wand, wrong drop-off unfond
Backspace of laptop, novels slip slop slap slop
Much less sloppier photocopier
Soft keyboard touch, neat handwriting clutch
Coughs stifled resigned, crack of antique spine
Swish of page turning, page swish returning
Stack’s muffled laughter, thoughts ever after
Mumble at ‘reserved’, grumble of self-serve
Ring of connecting, ping an incoming thing
CDs in CDs, press stud DVDs
Clickclack of loans gate, phone calls with books late
Hard to believe, sounds missed in libraries
[Mist]
Hard to mist sights of library lockdown
Tip-tap that rain makes, phone calls with no takes
Desktops and opacs, square blanks and all blacks
Titles inspecting across their aisles same thing
Uncalled-for reserves that are there but to serve
Stack’s ghostly laughter, no thoughts hereafter
Spurned pages unturning, pages’ wish unlearning
No covid coughs here, no customers appear
For them no happy hush, no last-minute essay rush
No Encyclopaedia Britannica
No hideout with laptop, no time to talk and stop
Deep deep the deep quiet, a silverfish diet
Mollified trolleys, no bowl of soft lollies
Slump of returns chute, all tute rooms quite mute
Missed
Library Lockdown: Two Sonnets
Philip Harvey
[Missed]
Thump of returns chute, earphones unmute
Clatter of trolley, splatter of brollies
Beep beep of beep wand, wrong drop-off unfond
Backspace of laptop, novels slip slop slap slop
Much less sloppier photocopier
Soft keyboard touch, neat handwriting clutch
Coughs stifled resigned, crack of antique spine
Swish of page turning, page swish returning
Stack’s muffled laughter, thoughts ever after
Mumble at ‘reserved’, grumble of self-serve
Ring of connecting, ping an incoming thing
CDs in CDs, press stud DVDs
Clickclack of loans gate, phone calls with books late
Hard to believe, sounds missed in libraries
[Mist]
Hard to mist sights of library lockdown
Tip-tap that rain makes, phone calls with no takes
Desktops and opacs, square blanks and all blacks
Titles inspecting across their aisles same thing
Uncalled-for reserves that are there but to serve
Stack’s ghostly laughter, no thoughts hereafter
Spurned pages unturning, pages’ wish unlearning
No covid coughs here, no customers appear
For them no happy hush, no last-minute essay rush
No Encyclopaedia Britannica
No hideout with laptop, no time to talk and stop
Deep deep the deep quiet, a silverfish diet
Mollified trolleys, no bowl of soft lollies
Slump of returns chute, all tute rooms quite mute
Thursday, 25 June 2020
Editorial
For Marilyn Klerx-Hardie
Said my editor to my splurger,
that’s over the top.
Said my accountant to my
raver, when’s this going to stop.
Said my censor to my free
spirit, did you have to use fuck.
Said my caged-in to my
free-range, friend you’re in luck.
Said my normal to my
supernormal, it’s the end of lockdown.
Said my supernormal back
again, that bug’s all over town.
Said my provocateur to my
anam cara, go get a life.
Said in similar vein my
anam cara, I’ll go get a life.
Said my aesthete to my preacher,
what’s that all about.
Said my preacher to my aesthete,
truth will out.
Said my death wish to my
life force, isn’t darkness fun.
Said my life force back
again, here comes the sun.
Said my inner critic to my
latest effort, wetter and wetter.
Said my latest effort to
my inner critic, you do better.
The sonnet, about the
Inner Editorial that poets and writers live with, has in the background this
long socio-political poem by Allen Ginsberg, ‘The Ballad of the Skeletons’ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4KWcmI802mw
Thursday, 11 June 2020
Driveway
Stand in your driveway on
Anzac Day.
Your own driveway where
concrete meets gutter.
Your driveway on Anzac Day
the gutter.
Between gutter and the
stars your driveway.
Stand during Covid Day on
your concrete.
Stay on the Ruby Princess you
Anzacs!
Stand on concrete eating Anzac
Biscuits.
Smoothed concrete gutter
where driveway meets road.
Stand in your driveway with
a bronze badge.
Stand in your staked driveway
with BBQ.
Stand in your driveway with
BBQ steak.
Stand within cooee of golf
course driveway.
Drive fast as can to the
golf course driveway.
Transfer funds for your
Anzac Day driveway.
Wednesday, 10 June 2020
Normal
Normal wakes up to
crowning achievements.
Safety, it’s a matter of
opinion.
Things, he gets back to them,
ignites the engine.
He (it’s not always he)
leaves out what’s meant.
Won’t. Normal will not be
told stay at home.
Signs the supermarket
visitors book.
Impatiently relaxes, takes
a good look
At unprecedenteds. Hair
wants a comb.
The new Normal coughs,
might have a headache.
A fever? Too early to say.
Not though, why.
Things, there are things that
he just can’t fake.
More like the old Normal,
up for a laugh
Eats his saved sandwich,
doesn’t want to die.
He, all that remains of his
skeleton staff.
Tuesday, 2 June 2020
Puzzle
It
is the empty shops behind the glass.
Download
more buttons to tell us the time.
X
marks the place for long distance mime.
A
million phones give an online class.
Trains
fill with no one in particular.
Carpark
of rust sharps and wet autumn leaves.
A
mirage of masks it seems, half-day gloves.
Jog
with dog at sunset spectacular.
Life’s
so precious people do anything.
Avenues
of stay home, roads of asleep.
State
of emergency now resetting.
The
mental hustle, the indoor bustle.
Which
bits to fit which bits, what not to keep.
This
infernal pest of a jigsaw puzzle.
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