Poem of the Month, July 2016: “Gale” by Susan O’Brien

GALE

The roistering gale from the West
shrieks round building walls
and summons sheet metal thunder
from the rain water tanks
We are besieged by sound.

Trees on the far ridge whip and flail,
drunken cheer leaders against shredding sky,
hailstone missiles streak
through horizontal rain

I more deeply understand
the welcome swallows’ nest:
under the widest eave,
plastered to the wall
even now
it is safe in the wind shadow

Startled out of sleep at three a.m.
we pull on clothes
in case, in case….
but our house too holds steady
there is no need to flee
into the maelstrom…

Sleep again overtakes us

At first light the silence shocks:
survivors are stunned but standing
the fallen indeed are fallen
and sadly, amongst their silent ranks
our Number One Yacca is down

Here before white settlement
prized for food and tinder
for weapons and glue
survivor of roaring bush fires –
resin rubies shining
between charred leaf bases,
this one legged ancient
finally felled
by the blow and suck of air.… Click for more

Poem of the Month for May: “Sermon on Dogma” by Kalicharan Nigel Dey

As selected by the anthology editors, David Harris and Edie Eicas from FSP readings in May, 2016.

Nigel Kalicharan Dey: editor, 2014

SERMON ON DOGMA by Kalicharan Nigel Dey

There I was, sitting on a pew in church,
Attentively listening to Father John Birch.
The Reverend quoted reverently:
“None comes to the Father except through me.”
An exegesis followed with passion and fire:
“Either these words are true or Jesus was a liar.”

“Hold on!” I thought, “There’s a third possible conjecture:
The gospels could contain elements of fiction.”
Father John Birch is an authority on scripture
But like most authorities he has an affliction.

It’s called dogma – an epidemic mental disease
Preventing consideration of all possibilities.… Click for more

Poem of the Month: April 2016

Nigel Ford: regional events

The FSP Poem of the Month selected from the April readings by editors Edie Eicas and David Harris is Screaming At The Ceiling by Nigel Ford.


Screaming At The Ceiling

I’m standing in the middle of the room
fists clenched
muscles tensed
unable and unwilling
to stop myself screaming at the ceiling
in my frustration at the unfairness of it all
not knowing which way my divided loyalties should fall
with my Mum under an imminent death sentence
and my daughter so very heavily pregnant.
Do I stay or do I go?
I’ve got no idea, I just don’t know.

Click for more