… always the bridesmaid :) *

Updating my blog  yesterday reminded me that I have been meaning to announce a few close calls I’ve had in the last two or three months, but have never quite got round to.

So in the order they’ve happened …

glamoured” was Highly Commended in the Interstellar Award for Speculative Poetry (see here for judges comments, 4th paragraph)

interstellar heron” was Shortlisted in the Interstellar Award for Speculative Poetry (shortlist announced)

full moon feast” was Commended for the 2014 W B Yeats Poetry Prize for Australia

slumber” was Commended for the 2014 W B Yeats Poetry Prize for Australia

concentric circles or: we have you surrounded” was Shortlisted for the 2015 mindshare Poetry Awards

Click on the links to take you to where the poems have been published online.

I’ll keep plugging away, & hopefully be able to share news of a wedding or two soon.



* by bridesmaid i mean, just out of the $$$ round (which — like most people — is why i got into the poetry game, for all the big bikkies you can win, bwahahahahahahahahaha)

† 2014 is correct, even though it was announced in late 2015

The Poem That Stops A Nation (*Cough)

We have a horse race in Australia which, allegedly, “stops the nation”. For the past three years, it certainly stops me. Because since 2013 I have played a wee linguistic game (potentially only of interest to me) involving the names of the horses that compete — kind of a found poem with benefits.

Normally, the race runs at 2.30 (my time), I wait for 30-45 minutes or so till the full order listing is posted on the internet, I then furiously try & craft 24 unrelated phrases into some sort of logic … before racing into the city & reading the result (at around this time or earlier) at a monthly poetry gig to the confusion & consternation of many, haha. (Coincidentally, this reading always occurs on the first Tuesday of the month, & the big race is always the first Tuesday of November, which is how the game first started.)

However, last night, owing to an incident of unnecessary & alarmingly over-the-top pettiness (not involving me I hasten to clarify), I chose not to stay at that reading. So only my friend Sarah got to appreciate/was forced to endure me reading it to her as we scoffed our respective dumplings.

I subjected her to a personal reading, because, of the three poems I have created in this fashion, this is the one I feel works best (with the caveat being — ‘works best’ is a very loose description in a situation where one tries to wrangle 24 horses names into a poem … in the order they finished the race … taking a few creative liberties where necessary) & was disappointed not to get the chance to share it last night.

Only today did I realise I could post it on my blog … (well der, just cos I haven’t posted anything since June — doesn’t mean the blog has disappeared. My excuse: The 24 Poetry Marathon obviously took it out of me :) )

So, for those of you interested in such indulgences, I present …

[24 names in order]

the evil Ivan Prince of Penzance
used the Max Dynamite allowed
according to the Criterion
on his terrorist Trip To Paris
& so — the Eiffel Tower disappears
in a Big Orange Gust Of Wind

the CIA agrees it was Excess Knowledge
& a Quest For More that ruined Our Ivan—howe
he got the dynamite & Who Shot Thebarman
Sertorius & whether the two events
are connected, remains a mystery

needless to say, everyone understands
it’s a Fame Game in The United States
but when Agent Hartnell runs along Bondi Beach
chasing Hokko (Brave whistleblower)
while that bastard Senator Almoonqith Kingfisher
(Republican, Texas) through some secret
Preferment is proclaimed Grand Marshal
we know the 1% are winning comfortably

meanwhile, the rogue spy, codenamed
Sky Hunter, drifts through a Snow Sky
searching for the Red gifts
that sadly, failed to arrive



NB for those who wish to check I didn’t cheat. Here’s a link the final results :)

(Hour 24) 9.30-10.30pm — #37 “A flea in heaven”

fleas in heaven

i hope there’s fleas
in heaven

cos all dogs
have fleas

& if heaven
has no dogs

then heaven
is no place

i want to be


Well, thank dawg!

That last one was easy (careful, it’s deeper than it looks!) ((It’s not, it’s just an end point, huzzah!!))

The card above got the most number of hits, but no bingos sadly. I got 3 x 3 in a rows overall. A pretty sorry performance by many bingo-ers expectations. But I’m pleased enough. & so to bed … :P.

(Hour 22) 7.30-8.30pm — #74 “Candy Store”

Candy store 

every adult still harbours
a child who hankers after
the candy store of their youth
an old world style lolly shop

whether it was a Willy Wonka
wonderland or Harry Potter’s
Honeydukes — or just the local
deli down the cornershop

nothing tastes that good again
though the chance to timetravel
back before everything got hard
is most likely the sweetest treat


#3. Second last one. OMG

(Hour 21) 6.30-7.30pm — #30 “Dirty Gertie”

Incomplete, more drafting necessary; but no time available. A shower & clean teeth helped, but already the steam is fading.


16 feet of very nude female
bronze ; on her toeballs ;
arching on her own ball of earth
sword aloft ; a colossus in V ;
grand scale commemorative art ;
celebrating war ; shouting victory ;
triumph ; black silhouettes the sky
somehow towering above
the surrounding scrapers.

locals have a colloquial ;
as Dubliners do for
“the Floozy in the Jacuzzi”
& “the prick with the stick”.

hence the symbol of German
defeat, Paris’s protection ;
becomes “the Wicked Woman” ;
& “Dirty Gertie” ;
all stemming from a time
when bus passengers asked
to disembark at the stop
next to “the Naked Lady”
when buying tickets …


#74. Oh dear.

(Hour 20) 5.30-6.30pm — #52 “Danny La Rue”

Reduced to writing doggerel coz my brain has imploded in the sky. Or exploded insky me. I’m not sure. Boom-boom. Chickenfart in any case.


Danny La Rue
loves chicken vindaloo
I know this to be true
because so do you.

What really turns on my screw
is wondering if  Winnie the Pooh
loves his vindaloo too
or whether it races straight on through


#30 — another good candidate for dodgy rhyming poetry (might even get time to have a refresh-me-up shower this hower.)