Friday, April 28, 2006

On Inspiration

Seeking inspiration
I retreat to my back porch
on a moondog misty night.
I draw
from a cigarette, unfettered
by authoritarian longevitists.
My feet cool on the damp deck
under the illunarmated night.
A company of arachnids,
crickets and moreporks
play to the Southern Cross.
There is a rain-soaked printer
waiting for just the write moment
for its penultimate journey to the shed,
the recycling bin is semi empty;
its contents could never reveal
their story to archaeologists
who deal with dirt and the dead,
beer cans and wine bottles all still
from the jam with Ian and Andy,
a plastic laundry bottle -
cheaper than its cardboard refill,
all tastefully disorganised.
The barbecue doubles as a plantstand
and the rubbish bin remains
in practical proximity
to the back door.
A spicy stack of firewood
lends scent to my thoughts
as I entice words
to compost the detritus of my day.

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Blogger rch said...

Hey Glenn, I read this the other day and loved it but didn't have time to comment. It is really great with engaging imagery and nice word play. I particularly like the middle section about the typewriter and of course the very end. Outstanding. Take care,


Sunday, April 30, 2006 6:25:00 AM  
Blogger Crunchy Weta said...

Thanks Bob. I often have a quick read of others poetry (just to see whats happening:-) then get back to it a bit later. Thanks for your kind thoughts.

Sunday, April 30, 2006 10:16:00 AM  
Blogger (c) sleight of mind 2006 said...

I love the line "under the illunarmated night."

Monday, May 01, 2006 11:59:00 PM  
Blogger blueorchid said...

Let's rattle up those bottles again soon...I

Wednesday, May 10, 2006 3:11:00 PM  
Blogger Crafty Green Poet said...

Ah recycling and reuse inspiring poetry. Crafty Green Poet approves!

Thursday, October 26, 2006 3:02:00 AM  
Anonymous Dennis said...

Excellent! I love how everything in your space is in service to you in some other-than-intended way. Spiders provide company; wood provides scent. Very cool. My favorite lines are: "the recycling bin is semi empty;
its contents could never reveal
their story to archaeologists
who deal with dirt and the dead." Its cool that your junk has an unknowable personal secret!

Thursday, October 26, 2006 5:18:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Hi Glenn,
You have come back with a bang !
Love your poetry!

Thursday, October 26, 2006 5:49:00 AM  
Anonymous ren.kat said...

gotta agree with Dennis- the trash concealing secrets is very provocative!

Thursday, October 26, 2006 5:52:00 AM  
Blogger Susan Abraham said...

A very clever poem, Glenn. Moody & ethereal.

Thursday, October 26, 2006 6:54:00 AM  
Blogger pepektheassassin said...

All great poems, crunchy! (And gee, for a minute I thought NZ was REALLY FAR ahead of us, TImewise...) Very diverse, and all fine!

Thursday, October 26, 2006 7:14:00 AM  
Anonymous madd said...

Glen..lovely little snippets of life so nicely narrated for you took us on this lovely journey..thanks, I really liked it, BTW thanks for the stop by my place..m

Thursday, October 26, 2006 8:08:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Absolutely brilliant to recycle your recycling poetry! I love these lines:
"I draw
from a cigarette, unfettered
by authoritarian longevitists."
I laughed out-loud.

Thursday, October 26, 2006 4:44:00 PM  

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