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  • 06 December 2021

Four poems by Jamie Dawe

My Father

A Geelong AFL supporter

Saturdays were reserved for shouting at the Eighties Rank Arena

The juvenile meerkat elations awaiting at 30 Cumming Street Toowoomba

I received many accolades for school projects under his tutelage

His affection with mum and his affinity with the African Lovebirds, Finches and Budgerigars

Ironically, I, at fifty four, communicating with the random magpie or sparrow I recognize how they create mindfulness caged in this orb as we all are

Under the house a business- Dawe Constructions and letters in his makeshift mailbox for chores

Building fences and chopping the firewood delivered from the World War Two Blitz tipper

The Tartan bed spread with Matchbox cars 

Stove bricks wrapped up in newspaper under brumal blankets he ceremoniously supplied

His frustration with water boatmen swimming in the above ground pool

As a teenager he stared to the moon believing there was more

Yes. The world is not perfect but within closed Dawes he strived

We tend to cast aspersions on the deficit of what we believe we deserve regardless of the five gifts of senses available

On the Sabbath the regular family unit hie, we showed respect to ancestors

The latticed sepulchre bus shelter was full of visitors and we read the stones of epochal loss

Manicuring lawn plaques with paint and brushes to restore their names

Maybe by subconscious means, he was telling us to take the worlds’ tiger by the tail and tame it

Poetry readings in the formal dining area with famous author evenings

The dictionary and Thesaurus an arm’s length away

Encouraging us to seek cathartic pursuits in literature

A book- the key to prismatic ideations, speaking volumes

Under the same alien moonlight haze of preponderance

Sanguine sentiments that both of my parents and I will be reunited in a distant stratosphere


After the yellow fire resistant hoses have departed

She sieves through the ironbark ash to retrieve the melted candelabra

The black and white portrait mementos

Charcoaled star pickets in molten wounded angles

He dodders up hesitantly to his fallen castle with red cattle dog

The amputated John Deere is enough for him

Hodge podge kiln pies of misgivings

Tall matchsticks map the unreliable traffic light weather

Zephyr smokie grey boots and gumnuts pop the question

Should we rebuild in the funeral urn of memories or just lay them to dust?

The Lion Roar is No more

In 1948 in an auspiciously named area after our reigning Majesty

The first automobile cub in South Australia was assembled from saddled sand dune to seatbelt

Wheeled runways American Eagle subsidiary patriotism

Antoine Cadillac eponymous inspirations the Lion