best words (repainted)

A Poem a Day in September: #35 (Final)

and I see that I
am like a painter
drawn over
and again
to repeat my theme

a self-portrait
sketched in raindrops
then roughed
afresh and differently
the same

in the night
I hear the wind howl
it sings the low song
to me

even the sunshine
of morning
that brings the green
into new light
is a reminder that I see this
every day

a rosella bells
a magpie sings
the plover screams aloud
and I am re-made
my image


before the sound dies
hoo hoo hoo
is that my n…

hoo hoo hoo

it fills me
and I will draw it
in my best words

using my best words

© Frank Prem, 2016

This is the final in the September 2016 poem-a-day set. It exceeded the number of days, but was fun to do. Hope you enjoyed reading them.
The October 2016 Poem-a-day sets starts here: Poem #1: belle and beau

three presentations

A Poem a Day in September: #33

surround yourself in silence
for preference
don something black

stand in the sharpness
of a spotlight

say nothing
until it’s right
say nothing until

a few words
just a few words

hold again
quite still don’t move
until the room is shushed
at you

say it again
slowly and clear
say it again

then go


put the white-face on
dust talcum into your hair

wear a white sack

stand at the mic
speak monotone
made up monotone
before you whistle
at the feedback technology
beside you

turn on the static

turn on distortion

turn on the noise


stand at the mic
speak in a monotone
refer to yourself
the third person

turn on the noise


wear the performance Akubra
and a driza-bone
over moleskins

elastic-sided boots
the kind you’d wear
as a swaggie
of the modern day

check you in the mirror
then on to the floor

move around
hold attention
move around

you can’t stand still
while reciting the tale
of Clancy

the Snowy River

the throat-cut
from Ironbark

bow low again

and go
stage exit

© Frank Prem, 2016

Poem #34: for the coming of the wind

the wet September ‘why’

A Poem a Day in September: #32

there has been rain
all my gullies run

debris on the paths
lies in snakes and swales

and in a minute
or so
there’s going to be more

this September
wet days
are becoming the norm

but in my rubber boots
I can make quite a splash
wherever I step
is a watery dance

I can twirl around
my umbrella open
and unfurled

and everyone knows
a wet September

and the swales

and the rain

are the reasons

© Frank Prem, 2016

Poem #33: three presentations

Blog-friend M. Zane McClellan of The Poetry Channel has penned his why in response here.

there – at the gorge

A Poem a Day in September: #31

view-from-spring-creek-bridge-beechworthInspired by the pastel painting: View from Spring Creek Bridge by Leanne Murphy

did I once swim
in that sweet pool

where a rose-blush
lies upon the honey
and laughter
bubbles the white water

under the curtain shelf
of the little waterfall
was that a glimpse of me in there
from you

did you find me

do you still seek among the wilds
of a long forgotten
creek bed

reach out your hand
right now
and I’ll be there

for you
still waiting

© Frank Prem, 2016

Poem #32: the wet September ‘why’

Painting: Leanne Murphy

More pictures of the gorge (as walked last Sunday), including me penning a pome, are available for a peek at Leanne’s Blog.

Woolshed in Spring

A Poem a Day in September: #30

Woolshed you are loud
like an angry man
on the mead
of mountain water


I will not close with you
I hold no trust
no good faith
you are a belligerence
held too loosely

a hungry waterfall

white-water spume
your testosterone
flings froth into the air
to catch and to coat



drag them
beneath you


arrogant beast
you wait
you just wait
as I can wait
until the summer
takes your spunk away

then I will kick
my feet in your waters
I will cross you with a step
from rock to rock

little stream

© Frank Prem, 2016

Poem #31: there – at the gorge

Photo credits: Leanne Murphy

daily: the splits

A Poem a Day in September: #29

there are hard ones
there are soft ones
there are cross-grains
and rotten cores

the splitter bites
the splitter rings
the splitter
shatters eucalypt rounds
far and wide

one by one
the blocks are transformed
from backyard eminence
into firewood

I stop to catch a breath
and size the task

the next round
a large one
or a small

the next round
should I try that knotted piece
of grandpa wood that fell
from white-ants
chewing a highway to the heart

this is my mountain
I climb

© Frank Prem, 2016

Poem #30: Woolshed in Spring

who will leave you clean

A Poem a Day in September: #28

I have caused the rain
I have brought
the tempest

I have caused the wind to blow
stray webs and loose threads
before it

listen to the storm
the wolf is howling

hear the deep
rumbled roar

that is me

so patter little raindrops
wave and sway
lithe tree

I am with you
but a short time
I will go
you will be clean

© Frank Prem, 2016

Poem #29: daily: the splits

how rain starts

A Poem a Day in September: #27

as though the thought
had conjured the deed
the first drop fell

soon the metal roof
was performing
the raindrop song

and the sound
had both a beat
and innate rhythms
of a driven downpour

but slowed

and slowed

so the tune could emerge
in staccato one-beats
and twos

spaced apart

to allow the next thought
to rise between

and call down

© Frank Prem, 2016

Poem #28: who will leave you clean

a journey of raindrops

A Poem a Day in September #26

when they fall
they begin from the bottom
of the top

soaring gliding flying
colliding avoiding riding

they stop their fall
a dead halt
when they strike the top

pounding smashing splatting
rebounding soaking landing

where the earth meets the sky
they journey no more

© Frank Prem, 2016

Poem #27: how rain starts