Selected poems
Statues
tamers of winds and seasons
sun rain and darkness
tamers of dogs and horses
tamers of words and numbers
tamers of tamers tamers
of fallen angels lords
of punishments and promises
lies and blandishments
ghosts from the spirit world
with answers to questions
that never needed asking
topple them roll them
into the depths of the sea
to join their coffin ships
make space in the air
fit to breathe
we are come home to roost
we are home already
never left
just slipped your mind
we are men and women
nothing less and you are
nothing more
Ancestry
News of my great-great-grandfather at last. Eureka!
(one of the few disasters, it seems, that he wasn’t
present at). He was a man of bumbling origins
who aspired to mediocrity, achieved it early,
clung to it and hung on grimly to the last.
He was survived by a brood of sullen heirs
who didn’t fall far from the tree and some of them
were lucky not to swing from one. I might have better
luck with my great-great-grandmother. The women
in my family were always smarter than the dimwits
who deserted them, a trend that might have started
back in the mists of time measured by Grandfather
Clock and bundy.’ A wardrobe-mistress of Lola
Montez’ and there’s more…! An ancestor-person
an old luvvie like me can be proud of! Unwittingly,
she made me the man I am today! I might try a click
on a dodgy website called ‘Medium’.
Journal of the Plague Year
The world has slowed down to my pace,
very considerate of everybody. My token
exercise programme is now mandated for all.
My finicky approach to social engagement
(I was never much of a joiner) is the new norm
for everyone except the selfless workers in
health and education, no longer seen as merely
serfs to be exploited until they wear out.
Farmers re-emerge as the important people
they always were. When the last re-run fades
from our screens and the internet traffic stalls
at every intersection, the witty scribbler, the
fumbling uncle who does magic tricks, the
chess-player and the cellist will see their stocks
rising on the market. Time for re-branding, a sign
in the manner of Lucy in the Peanuts comic-strip:
MENTAL HEALTH COUNSELLING: 5 DOLLARS
(or a bottle of red and a roll of toilet paper).
John Carey is a Sydney poet, ex-teacher of French and Latin and a former part-time actor. The latest of his five poetry collections is Duck Soup & Swansongs. (Ginninderra Press 2018)