Plav’s Poetry Workshop
~1~
the sliding doors
as tall as a truck
and each one as wide
are a pair
that meet
tight
in the middle
they don’t get opened a lot
Plav’s got another door
man-size
cut into the one
on the right
that he uses to go in and out
it’s all been made
by Plav himself
out of corrugated iron
and steel
on a concrete floor
and it runs deep
a long
wide
workshop
three-phase power
gives him all the grunt
that he needs
and he disappears in there
for weeks
sometimes
but the sign he hangs
on the door
and the noise
that comes from the workshop
will tell you
where to find him
you can try that
if you want to
~2~
when he’s gone
people will tell you stuff about it
speaking quietly
like
Plav’s at work
I saw blue light
flickering
from the welder
or a lightning strike
or some such
or
I heard the sound
of something big
getting dropped …
maybe thrown …
onto the floor
and then there’s the sound
bang!
bang!
bang!
like a heavy hammer
clanging
as it shapes something
one time a guy said
he heard what sounded like
Plav
throwing himself
his whole self
right into the tin
and making that big pushed-out dent
that you can see
in the side of the wall
and then he wailed
like a dog might howl
up at the moon
~3~
he’s a foreigner
you know
that seems to be
the common-held opinion
he speaks perfectly all right
but
he’s a bit
funny
a bit slow
he seems to need time
to translate
his thoughts
from the way he thinks
into a language
you and me might know
but
no matter how he tries
it still ends up
sounding a bit
strange
~4~
the pile of waste
at the back of the workshop
seems to be growing
I guess it’s not going too well
in there
perhaps
this time
the old skills
might not be enough
what he needs
could be buried
a bit too deep
~5~
it’s gone quiet
around the workshop
someone reckons they heard
a snatch
of something like song
could be
he’s getting somewhere
nearly finished
the sliding doors …
yes
the sliding doors …
all right!
when he comes out
he’s going to need
looking after
some nourishment
a pint of pale ale
and a microphone
somebody
fetch the lectern out
hook up
the speaker
set the chairs out
tap the fresh keg …
he’s wheeling out
a new one
looks like he pinned it down
at last
a new one
come together now
gather round
get your beer
pick a good seat
and close your eyes
Plav
is going to take us
take all of us
for a ride
in a brand new poem
© Frank Prem, 2017
November 2017 Poem #24: over mount hotham
230318
Ah, yes. I know just how that feels.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Crack a fresh keg of pale, and set up the mic. Let’s go!
LikeLiked by 1 person
An apt description of creation.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hi Chelsea. Thank you. Yes, sometimes it’s like trying to beat creativity out of resistance, with a hammer. Glad you enjoyed.
LikeLike