3 poems by Robert Verdon

glad and young

possum-thunder across the tin roof
wakes half of Ainslie, it seems
the rain comes down angry
at the world and cats spat in the
darkest corners of the house
as they have done for decades
and I cannot sleep now for
fretting about the mortality of
it all, and I roll over and dream
of you, there we are always young
enough to forget the earth gaping
or smoke drifting across
the new moon like a witch, and in
the morning I rise and leave again,
while you sleep on in the next room,
and over coffee at home I pine for

Monday’s Child

lemon wind on this school morning

in the needle box of home

fraying sunrays through the awning

lemon wind on this school morning

heart a-shudder with its warning

neat and cold from winters comb

lemon wind on this school morning

in the needle box of home

The Crows

they came

suddenly before seven

a whole fist of crows in the tree by the dark back lawn

a threnody, a cacophony

cawing, cawing

that grim reaper tune

or were they just squabbling over something

tiny and dying?

About the contributor

Robert Verdon lives in Canberra and has published several books, including The Well-Scrubbed Desert (Polonius Press, 1994), My Cat Eats Spaghetti (Ginninderra Press, 2000), and Before we Knew this Century (erbacce, 2010). A new poetry collection is due out in mid-year from Aberrant Genotype. He came 2nd in the 2012 W.B. Yeats Poetry Prize for Australia.

Related Articles

More Like This