Ibises

Phillip Hodgins wrote one.

A great one about ibises.

They were a less scraggly, dissolute lot

than mine. Less louche.

I like the way he described them:

‘They had bodies the shape of caraway seeds,

and long black bills that curved like scythes’.

There is awe in his writing, respect.

He speaks of them flying in great flocks

casting deep shadows over the land

before descending like gods

beneficent as rain

aerating the soil, grubbing for bugs..

The farmer’s friend.

The Sacred Ibis of ancient Egypt.

I think I sold the ibises short.

• pic courtesy of Wiki Commons

The Big Day

Election day at Alberton Primary.

A long, long queue.

A slow shuffle to the front.

Hope the queue at the Pearly Gates

isn’t as long and tedious as this.

And there’s a coffee van and sausage sizzle

at the end of it

The Wrong Saint

We were at St, Francis Winery

& were trying to find

our way home

when you said,

Hey! Isn’t St. Francis the Patron Saint of Travellers

& I said, yes,

I think he is

so we got praying to St. Francis

but were getting

more and more lost.

Hey! let me check something, I said

so I pulled out my iPhone & Googled

‘Patron Saint of Travellers’

& found

it was St. Christopher.

No wonder we were lost.

We were praying to the wrong guy.

So this time we prayed to the right guy

& cheered up.

The car cheered up too.

It had a bounce in its wheels.

We were on our way.

Any minute now …..

They’ve Taken Way the Steps

They’ve taken away the steps

the ones leading to the first floor

where JB HiFi is

cordoned off ‘coz of covid

the ones I climbed for practice

in case I made The Great Wall

but there are other steps

to keep in mind

that Stairway To Heaven

for instance

the one we all have to climb

to get to our Heavenly home

but if the climb takes as long

as the eight minutes of the song

we all might be in a spot of bother;

hopefully St. Peter has a rescue brigade

of angels on call

or a St, Bernard or two with a small barrel

of whisky around their necks

for those who didn’t practice often enough

on Earth





 
 
 

Exorcism

The exorcism was short, brutal

after five days of possession , the toxins

had weakened my body, drained my senses

but on the sixth, a little miracle happened;

my body did not convulse or levitate

nor my head spin round like Linda Blair

but all the toxins pored out of me in a holy sauna,

soaking my underclothes, shirt, track pants,

the sheet I was lying on, all soggy and cold

but I was clean, strong, rejuvenated,

the only sign, the stigmata of possession,

two scars on my upper lip, healing, healing

movie poster courtesy of Pinterest

Shooting Star

I was driving back from the gym when I heard it

for the very first time,

that unmistakable voice,

a little gravely now, less freewheeling,

that knocked me  right out of orbit.

It was one of those moments when you have to pull over

to the side of the road, and give yourself

completely to the song;

“Purple Rain’ was like that,

Neil Young’s ‘After the Gold Rush’

and the soaring piano, guitar segue from ‘Layla’.

You receive the stigmata of otherness.

It changes your whole day and lingers for weeks.

 Perhaps never leaves you.

Then there’s the personal accounting,

where you’ve messed up, missed out,

fallen short of the mark, the roads not taken.

It takes a song to shake you like this:

‘Guess it’s too late to say the things to you,

you needed to hear me say,

Seen a shooting star tonight

slip away’.

*what songs have the power to transport you?

Faith

 

I pulled aside the blinds

that occluded my mind

Sunshine rushed in like

Water down a spillway

 

It felt so good, so holy

I knew I’d be okay

If I pulled aside the blinds

let in the sun’s rays