Month: February 2019

poetry

A Happy Coincidence

carolyncordon

Today was a pretty full on day, with weather that acted against doing too much. I have a chronic illness that means I am particularly badly affected by being too hot, and the summer we’re having at the moment in my part of South Australia is hot, perhaps the hottest ever, or at least since Australia was settled by white people.

When you know what your limitations are, you learn how to deal with them , so that’s what I did, I spent a minimum of time outside in the heat, staying inside as much as possible, where it was nowhere near as hot, then drove, in my air-conditioned car, to

Anyway, I got to the usual writing group venue in plenty of time, but I hadn’t had time at home to write my poem for the day, the final poem for the #poemadayfeb I have been doing for all of this month, even though, I’d looked up what the word for today and so knew it was ‘yourself’.

Others arrived at the meeting, we went through the usual items, telling of our writing related activities for the previous week, talking about some relevant issues relating to several events we will be involved in, for the coming months, and then doing our writing exercise.

The writing prompt for today was ‘night’, and I eventually settled down to do my writing, based on that them, but without any real idea on what I was going to write. In the back of my brain, I had my poetry prompt, as mentioned, and together with that was the writing prompt from today’s meeting.

So, ‘yourself’, and ‘dark’, were possibly travelling around in the back of my brain, what would happen? As it turned out, a lovely small poem happened.  This unexpected poem is a senryu, another Japanese poetry form, similar to the haiku, but about people, rather than nature.

I’m relatively happy with this small poem, and the others at the writing group though it was a good one too. I love the people in this group, we share our words with each other, but there is so much more to it. We may have begun as people who write, but we have become friends, ones who care about each other. If you have a writing group too, I hope you have such lovely experiences.

Anyway, this is my senryu:

 

Every night leads

to a new day, a new chance

to be yourself.

poetry

Feminism, Marriage, Blame, Burden

carolyncordon

My word for the poetry thing for February that I’m doing ( #poemadayfeb ), is Burden. I didn’t have any difficulty at all, coming up with something to write about. The themes around what happens to women when menfolk seek sweeter pasture and younger fillies is such a common one …

I’m happy to report that my marriage is sound, and we are both happy with our thirty plus years since our wedding … Things change, but we have changed with them, doing some of the same things together, other things separately, but (almost) always meeting up again when it’s time to go to sleep.

I certainly know of other women whose experiences with husbands has been quite different to mine, and I hear stories of horrific ways that things can go wrong. When I hear about mature women who are living in their car, out of a suitcase, I am appalled.

IMAG0057

I can barely imagine how I may manage if I were left is such a position, and know it is highly unlikely that will happen to me. I know it could happen though, you can never really know how life may hit you, but my circle of family and friends is a wide one, and I feel secure enough.

I know there are homeless men, living in a homeless shelter, and having to move on during the day, and go back for the night. These men are easily recognisable, I see on often around the town I visit often, but I don’t notice women is similar circumstances.

There are women out there though, every day, probably, a woman may flee from the home she thought she had for the rest of her life, when her partner turns on her, and she fears for her life … I am a long way away from that position, thankfully, and I am grateful.

 

Anyway, here is my poem, based on the day’s prompt, BURDEN

thinking of burdens …

You name her a burden, that you don’t want to carry –

you riducule her, mislead, abuse and ignore.

She holds to promises folk make when they marry,

hadn’t thought this end might come, that’s for sure …

 

But she’ll soldier on, because that’s what we do,

caring for others, whether they deserve it or not

and when it’s the end, and his vows prove untrue,

who’s the one left sitting in the sweetest spot?

 

It’s him, although he’ll claim he’s been fleeced –

statistics though, will reveal the actual proof.

On break up, women usually left with the least,

many of them stranded without even a roof.

 

We carry his children, we deal with his needs;

we hope for true love, but manage with less,

he thrives, she works, she aches and bleeds

then he dumps her, because she’s looking a mess.

 

He new babe is perfect, his dumped one, a bitch,

their children confused, the hatred damaging –

she suffers the blame, his life continues, no hitch –

he’s going great, ex wife & kids barely managing …

 

Public Speaker

Thoughts On Things

carolyncordon

I went to a speaker event today, a speaker with many intelligent and empowering things to say. The speaker was a writer, television person, and a deep thinker too. The speaker was Jane Caro, and even though it was a hot day today, I, and many others, were happy to travel to the Burnside Library, in the eastern suburbs of Adelaide.

Jane has a book out, hence the Speaker gig, but she also had many relevant things to say, and she held the audience captured in her story, and then happily answered the many questions asked, from members of the mostly female audience.

The relevant ‘new book’ is Accidental Feminists, and while I haven’t begun reading it yet, I was more than happy to part with my money, to get myself a discounted, and author signed copy. Feminism has been cast as a bad guy, by some, and it’s difficult to see any rational reason for that. Plenty of irrational reasons though, holders of white male privilege would have more than a few of those.

Private single sex schools seem to produce the kind of politicians who have little knowledge of the ‘real world’, as can be seen in Canberra at the moment, where ideas of fairness are thrown out of the window, and ‘merit’ seems to be gained by the size of your bank balance, and the number of similarly privileged ‘friends’ you have. When feminism is ignorantly or purposely misunderstood, and those who are feminists, called ‘ball-breakers’ and other names, that’s when you know our society is still a very long way from being equal, which is what feminism is all about.

Equality, what is so hard about that, to have a society where all are treated equally. Same pay for the same job, but also understanding that the society we currently have is far from equal. Universal Basic Income was talked of, and the reality that women are poorly served by the mish mash of working life options most go through in their lives. The further reality of homelessness of mature women also was talked of, and ideas on how things really are, even though we’re less likely to see homeless women on the streets.imag0531

Jane spoke well on the subject of schooling, firmly standing on her belief that co-ed and public is the best way to go, for many reasons. When children play together, they learn from an early age how to deal with others, and gender issues can be dealt with well before the messiness of raging hormones ever come into the equation.

I certainly agree with that one, being co-ed and public all of my way through school system, I even went public with my tertiary education, and am glad of it. I’ve been toying with a vocational course of some kind, but unless I can go through TAFE, I probably won’t do anything more, unless it’s Uni SA. I am certainly not going to go to a private college, I don’t think, they seem far too interested in getting me signed up, and grabbing my money …

OK, where was I? Ah yes, several times, Jane Caro reminded us that Climate Change was happening, and if we didn’t get going, we may not have anywhere left to live … A sobering, but necessary reminder, I feel. Too many people are pretending Mother Nature isn’t hurting, and they’re taking no action at all to assist in the healing that must occur, As Soon As Possible!

This event was well worth the money, and I hope I have learned some points I may be able to use, when I move further into the Public Speaking realm. Getting the audience to add content, but giving them the opportunity to ask questions is a good idea, and especially if you have a handy person to provide the microphone, if you have a large audience!

 

 

Uncategorized

A New Poetic Form

carolyncordon

The poetic form I am to write today is a new one, to me anyway, although it has actually been around, in Japan for over two hundred years. This form is the Dodoitsu poem. Like other Japanese poetry forms, this one relies on syllable counts, rather than rhyme or metre.

The Japanese language though, is different to the English language, which I and many others use. Japanese sound units for each words are shorter than many English words. And in English it can take multiple syllables to make a word, so in reality, it’s a little misleading.

Where the Haiku and Senryu both have 3 lines each, and a 5/67/5 syllable count, and the Tanka has 5 lines, with a syllable count of 5/7/5/7/7 syllables, the Dodoitsu has 4 lines, with a syllable count of 7/7/7/5 syllables.

This website gives a much clearer description of this, and more information about the form.

Traditionally, Dodoitsu was used for love poems, or ones relating to work, and with a humourous slant to the poem.

I wasn’t sure I liked this style when I first began playing with it here, but I’m changing my mind, as the words have come to the page.

These are three of my efforts:

1/

When you’re playing politics,

shouting’s now an adult tool

rather than sensible talk.

Temper tantrums rule …

 

2/

Deciding which I like best,

it’s a pointless thing to do,

when both purse and bank account

say, just window shop!

 

3/

The writer’s life – write, then think

then write some more, sit and think

wait, think, write, re-read, write more.

A book may happen …

 

 

poetry

Not Throwing Stones, Watching My Words

carolyncordon

In the past, and probably into the future too, I have said things unwisely, the wrong thing at the wrong time, or the wrong thing for any time. I have managed to get through the troubles caused, and they have never been too terrible anyway.

But for some people saying the wrong thing, to the wrong people has been fatal, a terrible thing, to die because you said the wrong thing to the wrong person. Religion, football teams, families, just life in general, these can all be things where words uttered without thought can kill.

Poets use words, and for the most part, they are not in danger of any fatal outcome from what they write, but certainly, some journalists have faced death, or indeed died, because they were using their words, and someone took offence, and acted, killing the offender.

I live in a small country town, and realised that small country towns are quite closed in places, with very close links between most of those living in them, or near them. Several times, I have narrowly avoided making a faux pas, by remembering which woman was actually the sister, or cousin of another woman.

It’s easier with the menfolk, because they don’t change their surnames, but with women, they lose the name that marks their heritage, and shows their connections to others. I’m very much more careful these days, having sussed out at least some of the connections, and being aware that anyone could be related to anyone else!

Anyway, my poem today is about watching words, and consequences when words are ill spoken, knowing those consequences can mark you as, ‘not one of them’.

Stone’s Throw

Throw a stone into the water, stand & watch –

ripples radiate out, from where stone hit water

& beyond. Peaceful, serene, gentle, as that stone

disappears from view, forgotten, as the ripples too

will disappear from view, & be forgotten. Throw

misspoken words into a conversation, though,

realise your error, cringe, & try to hide, knowing,

too well, the ripples may never stop; radiating

endlessly out instead, far & wide, each connection

causing more ripples, & still more, never-ending.

Like the stone and the ripples, misspoken words,

may be forgotten, but the name of the one attached

to the stone, to those ill spoken words, may be

remembered by many, until the very end of time …