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white milke in blue bowl
and the silver with its bright and dark
bent bow like
while the television
its brilliant pattern
telling me the world
is coming apart

the tap still lets water flow
the hydro works when I switch
on my lamp
the gas heater rumbles
when I need warmth

not so elsewhere
whirlwinds removed
houses lives pasts
and radiation floods
the sea

there is no comfort
for me if I live

watery graves and landslides
the burial heaps
and the sun shines
and the stars keep
the restless company

I am grateful for now
crunching fibre
and sustenance
swept up in empathy
more then ever
aware that
what we have is
and rare
every bit of it

Style / type: 
Free verse
Editing stage: 


I feel like tears, don't know from joy or sorrow, or if we just shared an indellible moment in time.


In your first stanza 'milk' without 'e' :)

The tornado's the earthquakes and tumultuous world, one man just being in it all and with his few comforts is satisfied but I get the empathy in this for the rest who struggle. Where will we end up.

"The perfect woman perpetrates literature as she does a small sin: as an experiment, in passing, to see if anybody notices it - and to makes sure that somebody does." - Nietzsche

I liked very much the seemingly trivial detail of the blue bowl with milk in it... i see a man having his porridge / bran / muesli for breakfast (reinforced by the "crunching fibre" in a later verse) while watching the news on the telly.

The news is full of disasters and he is grateful for the the little island of peace in his life and for the small things in life we sometinmes take for granted: that water will flow when we turn on a tap, that electicity will flow and turn on the light when we flick the switch, that we will have warmth in the house .

Sometimes it takes us to learn of how other folk are living their lives, halfway around the world, to realise how blessed we are with our small comforts.

Nicely written.

Incidentally, what was the reference to "Staunch" in the title?


I lived for a breif time in a tent
with a coffee table (Pine)
turned legs and a drawer
where I put a cook stove (Coleman fuel type)
for coffee and fry pan
and Buick for supplies close by
and radio stations from across the Large
lake (One of the great lakes)

I washed my face with creek silt on
the sand and a small bar of soap
and bathed with dish soap
which also did the one pot and
fry pan

the coffee table fit in the back seat
Lived on canned milk and dry goods
tinned foodstuffs

a spring nearby clear flowing and
sweet tasting provided nourishment
for refreshment

I thought those times were fretful
and frivolous but now I see
how enriched in memory I am to
travel back there and visit
to see the dusk in memory
and recall the storms coming in
across the islands the waves
down at the old docks
and on the rocks

they are the building blocks
of Now these special moments
who would know then
what they do for me now

author comment

welcome back.

Fuck, I've been so honoured to know you as a poet since first meeting you here. And you break all the rules and no-one cares.

"Staunch" is a very special word to Australians. It represents mateship, loyalty, even under extreme pressure. It has criminal associations, which are part of our convict ancestry, more now suggesting our ratbag nature.

And your poem encompasses all those things without being in the least Australian. I am touched. Thanks

A new workshop on the most important element of poetry-
'Rhythm and Meter in Poetry'

in another fiction book Im reading
Staunch to me means to also restrict
or focus but I like the other meaning
and never knew it had Australlian roots
Captian Scott was a Canadian who
started some kind of rebellion too
I think back in the gold rush times
They held a little fort for awhile I watched
on the telly

author comment

We concentrate on the pure simplicity of milk in a bowl
and are lulled into domesticity,
to be accosted with the patterns of disturbance and suffering,
only to return to the elements
and sigh with the wind.

Such is this life.

I understand the joy of living in a tent-as well as...!!

And you always express it so well,
taking us with you from the inside looking out.
Steven is as Ian and others here imply, one of a kind.
Keep writing and we shall keep on enjoying.

Thank you and love from Ann.

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

Kali challenged me to write
with more of a grit in the bit
so I did Im not ignorant
of the world
just wrote of the inner
perspective in its macro
but condensed in macro
the outside can be beautiful
in its tragic demise

The worlds woes are much
and climbing
and Yes we do have a voice
Poets can
poets will
and be heard

so this was my response
to Kali's challenge
and I'm grateful for the responses
on this work

I feel sadness for the world
and its animals who will swim
in that expulsed material
in Japan

the floods

we are tilting our world
as it must have done time and
before Or was predicted

thank You all

author comment
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