a morsel said the dog

I asked the dog but it seems she doesn’t know just wagged in case of snacks or treats whatever is needed for a happy ending the sky of course is much the same but bluer the creek beside our walk rushed by too fast to offer counsel or talk beyond the kindness of a susurrous …

citrus winter

the grapefruit are changing from green over to yellow kumquats sit as small orange balls the tree is laden it's winter citrus time brush the leaves rub the skin put your face right there inhale the citrus smell lifts me up I want a mandarin I want to squeeze a Tahiti lime navel oranges valencia …

dangerous devices in the rear

Poem #12 from: Memoir of a Dog Back to Memoir of a Dog - Introduction well he’s a big dog it was to be expected but none of us are happy about it we could’ve trained him perhaps to go to just one corner of the yard but we never quite got around to it …

breathing air and truth

stirring the wine not quite the same as breathing but air is air is air however you receive it and did you know the colour of clarity is red did you know that white includes deceptions in the crimson resides the truth despite my slightly inappropriate exposure   © Frank Prem, 2017 June 2017 Poem …

angling the big deep

I will entice you with lines I have baited and burly-ed cast with my strength to the sea in which words filled with elegant meaning swim by in phrases that turn and twist as a wave danced in undertones then left near-expired on my beach by a receding tide I will talk my fish in …

the inevitability of bow wows

Poem #11 from: Memoir of a Dog Back to Memoir of a Dog - Introduction somehow it has become woman’s work every few weeks the dog needs to be washed and dried the tangled mat of his wool combed and brushed he is tolerant of the brushing but most unhappy about bath-time when released from …

five bird poems (Benalla)

highway (crows) crows shone on the shoulder of the highway striding business like from carrion to carrion ruffs alert to the tender kiss of a passing breeze black feet black beak black feathers the black crows shone on the shoulder of the highway ~ evaluation of a swimmer the line of the wake is a …

getting a grip: a man should stay a man

Poem #10 from: Memoir of a Dog Back to Memoir of a Dog - Introduction this is a difficult matter I don’t even want to think about it have put it off three times already but each year there is a new confrontation and I know why they do it it’s well known that there’s …

once a hole

he is a prisoner the poet prisoner his jailer laughs what will you write . . . . of this a ha ha and what will you make . . . . out of that blood spills droplets to the floor teeth fall hardly a sound where they settle each movement each moment brings him …

hurrah for the salt

when I smell the briny sea I start walking with a rolling gait as though I was a sailor-man with a boat beneath my feet hurrah hurrah for the sea and the tar hurrah for the able seaman hurrah hurrah there’s rum in the jar and hurrah for the salt I’m breathing when I come …