The Poem of the Month for November 2022, selected by 2022 Anthology Editors, Veronica and David Cookson, is Tearaway by Elaine Barker. The commended poems for November are Overture by David Harris and Figs for Cockatoos by Mandy Toczek McPeake.
Tearaway
Elaine Barker
He arrived hugger-mugger into life
and feet first. What a balls-up,
said the doctor but all was well.
He was a rumble-tumble baby,
a harum-scarum toddler
who ran hurry-scurry
before he learnt to walk.
He turned into a tearaway kid
whose mother said quick-sticks
before anything would be done.
He ran riot as a teenager,
collected odds and sods
in his mishmash of a room
and was always losing things
in a slipshod kind of way.
He talked at cross purposes,
enjoyed a run-in at school
but was loyal to his mates,
followed them willy-nilly,
enjoyed a dust-up
and an argy-bargy
in a rat-bag kind of way.
He was known for his wild
and woolly gear,
his raggle-taggle curls,
and hunky-dory eyes.
He liked a bit of hanky-panky
and was a favourite with the girls.
Overture
David Harris
Autumn equinox, what better day to go
to see the sun rise from the hilltop with a view
clear to the east horizon, behind a few
small, wispy trees, the first signs of the glow
of morning. Stars are thinning, Venus stays.
Light grows, an orange tinge has now begun
to mark the promised birthplace of the sun,
the first illumination of its rays.
And now the sun appears, a blood-red ball
emerges, starts to grow, now swells and fills,
begins its rise above the distant hills.
The overture is ending. We applaud.
Figs for Cockatoos
Mandy Toczek McPeake
Inside
A rhythmic metronome clicks away
under floating blues riffs,
my partner living his own life
Later he’ll mow till sunset
then we’ll sit on the old bench,
watch Red-rumped grass parrots
forage for seeds
Today, words flow, ideas coalesce
effortlessly
Through the window, bees murmur
to the scarlet bottlebrush
Outside
I console the broody hen who, distraught
fluffs up her feathers
Eyes and beak follow my hands
Tucking under her, I lift,
remove her too-warm egg
She pecks, retreats to slake her thirst,
dry from nesting too long
I offer soothing platitudes, to which
she lifts and shakes her feathers
like a wet dog, from beak to tail
I wish I could explain
Together
We talk of rivers rising, the coming flood,
collect figs, enough for Lee and me
Plenty more for raucous cockatoos
Molly is ageing with us yet,
nose down, she daily inspects her land,
alert for passersby,
for lizards she can chase
No longer a lightning-fast terrier
for which my gecko-loving heart is grateful
The big old Bluetongue she leaves alone
An unspoken harmony of souls