nothing

my empty thought
is a void
of mind

an instant drained
for the duration

bliss
oh bliss

a moment
of not
at all

a moment
just one moment
of emptiness endured

and in the next
I can think
again
with joy
of nothing


© Frank Prem, 2017

May 2017 Poem #29: tba

falling leaves (for Susie)

Sue leaves 1

the leaves are coming down
for Susie
she will not rake them up
today

they fall in colours

yellow
pink

and rosy red

covering the green
with shades of warm

covering
a pillow for her head
a blanket for her bed
we’ll heap them high for her

Susie raked them
year on year
but now
that time has passed
as fleeting as Autumn days
that lead to Winter

and she
won’t rake them
anymore
though they still tumble
through the air

the leaves
coming down
for Susie

Sue leaves 2


© Frank Prem, 2017

May 2017 Poem #28: nothing

of the unknown

I thought I heard
a creeping sound

I thought I heard
encroachment

it made me stop
to gaze about me
wondering

I caught a glimpse
just
a brief suggestion
there
of movement

and when I looked
oh my oh dear
the shadow

Mshadow

who was that
shading my doorstep
why has he come
to haunt me

did I do wrong
oh
what does he want
why
is the specter encroaching

forgive me please
I did not mean
to offend

no
no

but
what is this

no ghost at all
it is my young friend
the magpie

mshadow2

hurrah
oh bliss
I feel so relieved
for a time I thought …
well
you know

I thought my time was done
but it was just the magpie
and not the lord
of the dark unknown


© Frank Prem, 2017

May 2017 Poem #26: returned to the sun

forging a memento

with a hand outstretched
he approached
the warmth

more intense
as he moved nearer

watching
fully mesmerized

closer closer
from warm
to sear

the dance
drew him
as a compulsion

he could not withdraw

the finger
so sensitive
extended

one touch

so

a broken spell

it was only once
but so impassioned
the burn
some salutary news

but the fever
of the dance
just once

just once

a memento
to re-touch
re-call
through all his life


© Frank Prem, 2017

May 2017 Poem #25: of the unknown

aficionado

at the sounding
of the first note
he was lost

the interaction
of sound
and air
and himself
undid him

before the second note
was struck
he had plunged forward
headlong
into the deep

a baby
awash in an amniotic space
surrounded with the promise
of richness to come

and he
a vast unfolding of self
with every exposed particle
of being
sensitized to receive

he waited
fully immersed
fully lost
entwined in the ecstasy
of expectation


© Frank Prem, 2017

May 2017 Poem #24: making a memento

finding myself backwards

who was I
in the millenium year
two thousand
zero zero

who was I
in seventy-two
when politics changed
and the lefties rose up

who was I
what was I doing
when Apollo
went to the moon

who was I
in nineteen fifty-six
when the Olympics came
to Melbourne

who was I
back then

I was forty-four
I was thereabouts
I was alone
and a loner

I was a teenage kid
still excited
by what might be
in my lifetime

my classmates and me
on the floor
in our assembly room
watching black and white
and grey
on the brand new
school tee-vee

I was just
a babe in arms
in Germany
on the way from nowhere
to somewhere

who knew where

who knew what

who
knew anything
back then


© Frank Prem, 2017

May 2017 Poem #23: aficionado

a pattern

I feel
the pattern of the rain
as dark drops
spreading into each other
across the pavement

I see it
revealed
in the tattoo
on my rooftop now

the colour
is every colour
made richer
at a touch

the pallet
drawn from an endless sea
uniformly grey

the texture
is a sound
that lulls my mind
to sleep
in a blanket
tugged higher
in the middle of a dream

of rainy nights
when raindrops rebound
back into the air
only to fall
a sigh
again


© Frank Prem, 2017

May 2017 Poem #22: finding myself backwards

fly

oh the days
fly by

like confetti leaves
leaping from the safe embrace
of autumn trees
into the twirl and swirl
the crease and curl
that is winter
soon

first the colouring
then
let go
goodbye
goodbye
they fly

security
safety
that is for spring
for summertime
and growing

but now
a chance
while the whistle-wind
begins to howl

wear
a party frock
a scarf
some trinkets

discard the veil

kiss the tree
kiss the tree of home
and fly


© Frank Prem, 2017

May 2017 Poem #21: a pattern

pinpointed

I dreamed a constellation
in my head

I arranged each pin
of brightness
just so

the horse
the wolf
the shape
that matches the outline
of my heart

with every beat
a new frieze arisen
and I dreamed
that I contained
all the things
they were

no need for me
to gaze up
to the sky at night
when I
carry all the stars


© Frank Prem, 2017

May 2017 Poem #20: fly