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Melbourne Story

This poem is for me.

The Summer of Love
a little like Heaven
since I was conceived
in June '67
Since I rode my red trike
thru the rocks roughly made
in Angus Grove's garden
this three year old brave
Since I kept guinea pigs
in some Beaumaris house
got tangled in string, in
the trees, it was 'grouse'
Then back to the east
and my fast purple bike
our big double story
and the Clarke pool we liked
Went to school Donny Park
show and tell, all that jive
'Let's Sing' Tuesday arvo
straight A's in Grade 5
Played basketball, footy
kiss chasey, not calm
had a thing for this sheila
wrote her name on my arm
Since my sister was killed
and I choked at her burial
a rampant blue morning
my mother hysterical
Since my father he left
my freedom, my pain
all closed and all crippled
it lingers, remains
And then Greythorn High
the French, private studies
Mrs Wagstaff, P.E
the girls and their bodies
Mateship, exams
Central and Duncan
I smoked Winfield Red
Mr Duff and his huntin'
Since I played out my youth
the rage Village Disco
my mates down the park
the cheap Brandivino
My 18th at Dave's
my first Mazda car
onto old Melbourne Uni
and the Shoppingtown bar
Since Michael he died
on that cold July day
my resentment of G-d
holding Jayne by his grave
Since they diagnose me
up and down in bipolar
so I try a new vice
Lithicarb and lite cola
Since when I met Jackie
in Emerald at home
then Briar Hill rising
to an Eltham-ish zone
Saw a snippet of future
it could only be Him
you sitting beside me
as the truth welled within
Our dusty cat Giz
and shaggy dog Buster
my betrayal, my cheating
lovemaking and laughter
Since I went off to Israel
saw Eiffel's tall Tower
saw London and Prague
Mum's home Bratislava
Since when I got back
since she said to me, "No"
the rejection, the loss
20 years it went slow
Just collating the time
the growing and thinking
my waiting for miracles
inner hope never sinking
Since Dad died to cancer
the damned cigarettes
his last poignant book
as a ruthless sun sets
Since Jez died to cancer
the scars down his back
his paralysed foot
his so beautiful tact
Since I spend time with Mum
preparatory years
the fumbling, the laughing
the overdue tears
Since I saw Leonard Cohen
at Rod Laver Arena
he returns to unleash me
just until I have seen her

So very concise and picturesque in your images, graphic. Love your rhyming and your phrasing, and
"had a thing for this sheila" ~ something offhanded in the memory collapses it to how you really would
refer to a girl you had "liked" at one time. Overall, Adam, very poignant, moving, and delightful.
So glad you were able to see Leonard and that he brought you some relief. Still hoping for Jackie.
Well done... I love it. Thanks for the imagery and poetic description of your life.


~ Lizzy

Ĺive

Oh, really... I had no idea on the term Sheila.
Life... that's far better

Thanks... it's half over; and hope you do, too


~ Lizzy xxx

Ĺuve

Did this ever get sent to Ben, Adam?
Was it helpful or healing to the situation?
I hope so.

Ĺove

That's good to hear, Adam.

Ha. So right about water and electricity.

That's a very mysterious message, Adam.
I'll personally tell whoever the "them" are whatever you want.
Please be well and stay well.
Cryptic messages like this always concern me. Always have, always will.
Unless, your change in direction in that paragraph included your written piece in prose form, as well.

All the best to you, friend.

This poem is for me.

the best kind of poem

Adam, I feel like you've opened and shared with me a tin can filled with Polaroids (that's how my grandmother kept her photo's in an old cookie tin - each photo had a little label on the back). I loved these flashes, little pieces of a larger story filled with ups and downs.

Who owns h2o, who owns electrons? A government, a shareholder? Wonder what G-d thinks about it.

I think that somebody was just trying to patent DNA sequences.

Adam, I feel like you've opened and shared with me a tin can filled with Polaroids (that's how my grandmother kept her photo's in an old cookie tin - each photo had a little label on the back). I loved these flashes, little pieces of a larger story filled with ups and downs.

A perfect analogy, Cate! [Wish I'd thought of it ]

OMG... I hadn't heard that about DNA sequences... now, they've really gone over the edge!

Live

Thanks, Adam. Your lovely sentiment reminds me of a modern-day Rumi .
Me, too .


~ Lizzy

Late August

25 years ago
he is nothing
then wins
a promise -
she is with him.
Come November
he sees you
thru Brisbane
by Melbourne -
she isn't with him.

He doesn't need
much, Leonard.
He takes a deep
breath, he prays -
she is with him,

always.

Love

If you are different, if you expect a miracle,
if you profess love; many will laugh at you.

They are just scared.