Warrior Princess

The Warrior Princess

You shouldn’t have done that, I say,

flushed the wee down the toilet.

Sorry, she says. I didn’t know.

It is one in the morning.

I can’t sleep, I say.

No wonder, she replies.

There’s too much light in the room.

But I’m claustrophobic, I say.

But it’s keeping you awake, she says,

drawing the curtains.

Sometimes you have to ride through your fear.

Get to the other side.

What’s your name? I ask.

Zena. I’m your nurse for tonight.

It’s a lovely name, I say. Xena, the warrior princess.

She smiles.

She’s Greek. I’m Filipino. Besides my name

starts with a Z.

Goodnight, John. Remember what I said.

I will. I’ll try.

I sleep for four bountiful hours.

I wake up at 4.38, bounce out of bed,

write three poems, including this one.

To me, she is still Xena, warrior princess.

  • pic courtesy of pinterest

Bridges

Not Katherine Anne Paterson’s Bridge

to Terabithia,

the one that Leslie and Jess cross

to get to their magic kingdom.

Nor that bridge too far.

Not the one Over Troubled Waters.

Nor that terrible one on the River Kwai.

Not even the bridges you burn

so there’s no turning back

but that rope suspension bridge

dangling high over the gully

that me and my faithful mutt, Salem,

can’t bring ourselves to cross

photo by Andre Amaral on Unsplash.com

The Castle

Somewhere

Somewhere remote

somewhere bespoke

for those

who practice civility

a castle you can row out to

a stronghold

of equanimity

no messy emotions

no urge to outdo

a castle with a billy goat

nestled in a sea

of robin egg blue.

pic courtesy of Pinterest

What Happens in the Hedges ….

thuja_hedge_hedge_plant_green_stuff_noise_protection_environment_texture-591998.jpg!d

The problem was I wasn’t getting any and I was pissed off by those who were —- and the timing was dreadful, 6a.m. after a heavy night.

It wouldn’t have been so bad — in fact I probably wouldn’t have heard it at all —-if I hadn’t opened the house up before hitting the sack but the bureau had predicted gully breezes during the night, just the thing to cool the house down after the heatwave. So I heard it loudly and clearly. But what was it?

I had to get up and find out. Of course, soon as I go outside, the noise stops.

So I stand still. It starts again. Meek little noises and a furious flapping . It comes from the hedge. High up.

Hey! I call out. Hey?

Just then a head pops out, glaring at me as if I am the intruder and not it.

What the fuck are you staring at? He asks.

Now I’m not in the habit of speaking to pigeons even ones that speak to me first but this one clearly has an attitude.

I get the leaf blower. It isn’t a 44 magnum but it blows them right away.

That afternoon they’re at it again, he and his paramour, on the clothes line humping amongst all the clean washing.

Hey! I say. Hey!

He looks down , glaring at me. Don’t even think about it! He says.

You’re over the top, mate, way over the top. You need taking down a peg or two.

He groans. She groans. Even I groan at the gratuitousness of such a pun.

Ahh well, pigeons will be pigeons I say and head inside for a snooze.

Off With the Fairies

fairy-butterfly.jpg

Where’s Uncle Midge? I asked

one sunny afternoon.

He’s off with the fairies again, aunty said

Then quickly changed the topic.

Off with the fairies? How did aunty know?

Did he leave a note saying he’d be back

By so and so a time?

It was hard to imagine Uncle frolicking with the fairies

if that is what

One does when one is ‘off with them’.

He seemed too weighty and substantial for that.

And anyway where was he off to?

Where does one go when one is ‘off with the fairies’?

I looked out the lounge room window out

To the backyard where uncle often used to wander

But there was nothing — only a pair

Of garden gnomes who seemed to be smiling

As if they had seen something.

Where Are You?

Andromeda_Galaxy_M31_NGC_224

So where are you?

In a galaxy far far away.

No. Where are you really?

Tralfamadore.

Isn’t that where …?

Yes, where Billy Pilgrim went.

That time traveller from ‘Slaughterhouse Five’?

Yes, he went there on his days off.

His days off? From where?

Reality. Reality bites, you know.

But what if you never came back?

Like Hugh Conway in ‘Lost Horizons’?  Dorothy in Oz ?

Yes.

Would it really matter? You’d be where you want to be. Would you even want to go back?

 

Have you a favourite fantasy place ? Which fantasy world would you live in if you could? What if you couldn’t come back?

The Best Exotic Mongolian Beanie

IMG_20180721_095156

 

What sort of wuss wears a beanie around the house?

It’s not Outer Mongolia for fuck’s sake.

And I do have the heater on.

But it does look exotic and its warm and woolly.

A tower of a hat from Ulaanbaatar, the trader tells me.

I had to have it with its burnished reds and browns and its black leopard spots.

But I look a proper Charlie wearing it in the mall or library or on public transport.

In restaurants people just stare.

So I wear it in the yard when I’m gardening or evening walks along the esplanade before disappearing into my yurt

Bloomington-TibetanCC-Yurts-9114  where I cuddle with a copy of Sonomyn Udval’s ‘Collected Short Stories’