tigers on vasoline

on Thursday, September 30, 2010

Images by nobutyes, letitiacg, elizabeth sarah, Riccardo Banfi, just[in].


a story is a boulder, rough and
big as a garage.
but if one has the patience
he can chip away
with a small hammer and chisel
til' he reaches the middle
where the infant diamond sleeps -
polish it,
then hold it to the sunlight;
give birth to The Poem.

(Image by Pandalicious Art.)

how to keep a secret

on Wednesday, September 29, 2010

if you should stumble upon
a secret, in your travels
i warn you, take haste -
with a ruler determine the length
of its sharp, needly teeth
for some secrets will gnaw away at you
and leave nothing but the bones.
with a pair of scales determine its weight,
for the burden of a secret is sometimes
best shared with another
who is strong enough to carry it.
finally, with a sharp poke determine its temper
for some secrets cannot be tamed
and should be packed away in boxes, kept
far from the light.
(Image by keriaustin.)

i can see for miles

on Sunday, September 26, 2010

Images by quiezip, joesee, about finding you everywhere and again.

when the heart

When the heart
Is cut or cracked or broken,
Do not clutch it;
Let the wound lie open.

Let the wind
From the good old sea blow in
To bathe the wound with salt,
And let it sting.

Let a stray dog lick it,
Let a bird lean in the hole and sing
A simple song like a tiny bell,
And let it ring.

(Poem by Michael Leunig, image by keriaustin.)
Michael Leunig is one of my favourite poets in the world. Beautiful simplicity.


on Thursday, September 23, 2010

Another gem from the flickr page. What a great artist.

wedding ring

where have you been?
five hours now, and counting

i notice that you left your wedding ring
sitting patiently on the kitchen bench - naked,
the happilyeverafter engraved on the interior
left cold and out of place
beside tomorrow's shopping list.

did you simply forget it
amidst the bills, burnt toast
and five-minutes-til-the-six-o'clock-bus?

is it that you find it uncomfortable
to have your finger bound in such a way
all day? or is it

a proclamation of your release
from bindings of a different kind

a splash of colour

on Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Images by Nada Zekovic, vee is for violeta, McBecca09.

to winter, before you slip away from me

the cool June air bites,
snapping and sucking at my fingertips
like a small child, or animal,
asking to be fed
but it is only Loneliness again,
creeping from behind its April veil
and making itself known to me, again.

i watch a single homing pigeon make tracks over the rooftops
and i wish, that like a homing bird,
i could flit from one rooftop to the next
without pausing to reflect, or dwell
on rooftops gone, and passed -

or have the comforting knowledge that
i was headed to a better place, a home

but i am already there, wings weary
and as the winter months draw near
it feels a stranger to me.
(image by darius k.)

..and spring emerges

on Tuesday, September 21, 2010

It seems that spring has finally emerged from behind its winter veil; at least I hope so, anyway.
Images by keriaustin, quiezip.

ode to a twitching eye

the muscle beneath my right eye
has been twitching for three days now.
it's as though it's been collecting baggage
that pulls it ever closer to the ground,
and finally - it has become too heavy to carry.

it's a sign of fatigue
they say/according to/apparently -
but i think it's something more sinister than that,
an ever-reminder of my indignity
my animal instinct, and my fragile mortality

each quivering jerk, each staccato snare
ripples across my face like a flailing
fish, in a pond -
is it dancing? is it dying?
is it shuddering before crying?

its message is unclear, but judging by its persistence -
i think it might be important.

submissions wanted

on Monday, September 20, 2010

Ruby Tuesday is now open to submissions - one day in, and some incredible images are already starting to appear. Post photos to the flickr group at http://www.flickr.com/groups/rubytuesdaytheblog/, or submit pieces of poetry/ short prose to rubytuesdaytheblog@hotmail.com

Images by GhostsInTheMorningLight, keriaustin.

the dangers of living in a small town

on Sunday, September 19, 2010

in a small town like this, the streets
are bony fingers
that will grab at your ankles, and trap you.

these streets
that you've always walked with somebody else -
this one stroked the palm of your hand, and
that one rubbed the small of your back
talking wild of hegel and hume
and the other, was always too preoccupied
to notice you

try not to trip over tangles of shedidwhat
a wisp of cotton, tied toetotoetotoe
crisscrosed and quivering, humming
with the whispers of the waiting -
one small tug, one slip of the tongue

and they'll be tossing your entrails back and forth
over the garden fence, the next morning.

you have been warned.

polly put the kettle on

on Saturday, September 18, 2010

polly put the kettle on is an eclectic online zine dedicated to contemporary poetry and photography, with a vintage feel. They are always open to submissions. http://www.pollyputthekettleonzine.blogspot.com/

Images by Dulcie Emerson, Laura Galley, Jordan David Small


the pink, swollen flesh beneath my fingernails
as i gnaw, wrong and clench

creating possible dialogues between us
a playwright, all fantasy
for whom
the words, so sweet, so perfectly crafted
only seconds previous
become sour as they touch the air;
or swoop from my grasp entirely

like a dandelion seed
dancing upon the breeze,