Bank your youth carefully



Selected poems


Night must be wound down

It's the night.

It's getting way too big.

Far too full of time.

When the night is full of time.

It can suddenly explode with ticks and tocks.

Shooting out like sky rockets in all directions.

Is it dangerous?

Dangerous, it's catastrophic.

It is the unique balance in all things.

When the night grows too swelled with time.

She takes up too much space and then what will happen to the day?

The day will be compromised.

Squashed, squelched and squeezed into insignificance by the might of night.

This is serious.

Night must be wound down and emptied of this tripping time.

It's the only way.

But who has that power?

The massive moon.

Only the monstrous meaty moon.

Can bring forth her influence.

On a night that is stretched beyond its strength.

If we sing to her.

She loves a stirring song.

Then she has no choice for the moon needs the night.

Like the night needs the moon and so on and so on and so on.

They always fight and separate.

But are drawn back in union.

The moon loves the day, but she can only stand so much light.

For she is light and she will always need the night to shine.

We all need the dark night, the dazzling day and the magnificent moon.

Each in its appointed place, time and power.

So the night must be wound down.

And we have to start now.

We must re-marry the night to the moon!




Do the deal

Please bank your youth carefully.

It needs to be banked with copies in triplicate.

Just in case.

For your youth is precious.

I know you can't see it now, but you will.

You thought you might sell it.

Sell it, what are you thinking.

Have you had no instruction?

Every child is taught.

To hold their youth like a treasure.

To cradle it in your arms and preserve it at all costs.

Listen to my counsel.

No don't talk that way.

It's worth a bit, but not so much that it can't be squandered quickly.

Where would you be then?

Yes, drunk, drugged, sexually exhausted and happy.

What then, what then?

That's it, that's all you need.

And in the days that follow?

All will change.

Your days will shrivel as your life crumbles before your eyes.

And finally you will see what you've lost

But you really want to go through with this?

As a registered dealer in misspent youth

I've given you the Government sponsored medical advice.

I can do no more.

You're sure, you're really sure?

Let's do the deal!




We could have been fabulous

Let's split it all down the middle fifty fifty.

You'd be happy with that?

Yes, it's fair I guess.

But would I be happy?

Yes I guess you would.

Will we take turns to choose what we want?

That's not unreasonable.

But who should go first?

You can.

No you can.

I insist.

What's wrong with you?

I mean, you were never like this.

It takes two to tango.

So I've heard.

We could have been fabulous.

Really fabulous.

But we weren't.

No we weren't.

Did we try too hard?

Or not enough.

We were immature.

Still are, for everyone wants to get their own way.

Naturally enough.

But if you do get it, but only grudgingly ...

That sucks the fun out of it.

And we need all the fun we can get.

We sure do.

Do you think we could try again.

Would it be worth it?

Or will we just divide up this junk?

I'd like the TV.

That's not unexpected.

But I'd also like the car.

This really stings.

Yes it does.

You take the good wardrobe.

And I'll have the busted one and a chair.

If you have the other three chairs.

Then the couch must be mine.

Are you feeling better?

Well I'm not feeling worse.

We could have been fabulous.

If only we tried.




As it races by, running remembers walking and slows down just a little

Puff, puff, you look familiar.

Yes I never forget a form of movement.

We might have met before?

I think we might have

But it's all about me.

Me,I run.

I run constantly in all directions.

Yes, everything I do is swift and decisive.

I'm always on track and never tired.

You'll find me disappearing into the distance.

What about you?

A steady pace, no that will never do.

You should be racing and constantly breasting the tape like I am.

Busy is good. It's better than good. It's great!

I can't stay long for I've got to be on my way.

It's very unlike me this stopping.

I don't know why I did it.

But I haven't really stopped.

I just paused momentarily.

Because you looked strangely familiar.

Perhaps we knew one another long ago.

Yes I think so.

I can feel it, can't you.

But I must be off.

I'm running and I think you're walking

I'm sure I knew you.

Yes running remembers walking.



Bruce Shearer is a Melbourne writer.

Topic tags: Bruce Shearer, poetry



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Existing comments

'only the monstrous meaty moon'. I smiled out loud. Poetry does that.
Pam | 12 June 2019

"When the night is full of time It can suddenly explode with ticks and tocks" is pretty good, too!
John RD | 14 June 2019


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