Tuesday, 26 July 2022

Five Poems by Rob McKinnon


 

Snow Globes

 

Whole worlds trapped

inside curved glass.

 

White flakes

rest dormant, waiting.

 

A determined disturbing hand

shaking the globe,

just to watch the chaos.

 

****

 

Along clogged bitumen freeways to borders

crowded vehicles of all types stop

not moving for hours then days,

trying to escape a new war.

 

In desperation, women and children

drag suitcases or push prams

walking to escape

with now all that they own.

Men left behind ordered to fight.

 

Invading troops surround cities

as bombs rain,

while snow falls.

 

 

Purple Jacaranda Flowers

 

Jacarandas in full bloom

cascade a purple carpet

on the paved footpath

extending into the gutter

and shower a parked car

unmoved for days.

 

A dog on a lead

walked past the quiet house

sniffs a tree trunk

before being dragged on

by its annoyed owner

wearing headphones

listening to loud music.

 

The postman on a red bike

in a yellow fluoro jacket

pushes mail into the filled letterbox

as spewed advertising material

wilts on the ground underneath.

 

Noisy miner birds argue in bottlebrushes

which neighbours trim

on their side of the fence line

not noticing a lawn

becoming unusually unkept.

 

Blinds in windows remain down

undetected by cars passing on the road,

some many times a day.

 

Unseasonal storm deluge

washes the car clean.

As skies clear,

the trickle of flowers upon it begins again.

 

 

Hometown Visit

 

Walking through the cemetery, recognising names

which spark recollections of faces from years before,

discussing stories and memories

of times when our lives and theirs intersected.

 

Finding lichen and moss on headstones of family members’ graves

obscuring names and dates,

scraping them clear to allow unobstructed recognition.

Fresh cut flowers placed in pots

that would soon whither then be blown away,

but for a short time signified that someone was remembered and missed.

 

Thoughts soar to an unkempt huge front yard

where unpruned rose bushes grew tall,

pathways and garden beds had become overgrown with dense weeds         

alongside geraniums that ballooned,

the sculpting hand of its gardener long absent.

 

Memories journey further to a not often used large lounge room

with aging carpet and a bulky dusty couch,

bluestone walls surrounded by a corrugated iron shady veranda

leading to an outside toilet around the back.

 

Then reminiscences drift to an always welcoming kitchen

where an ample range was continually burning, additional logs were often added,

cups of tea were endless

and the small TV on the fridge was permanently on.

 

Time to leave,

walking back to the car in silence.

 

 

Cluster Bomb

 

In a dark night sky

gun fire rings in the hills surrounding the city,

another hostile explosion shocks the bleak

with a flash igniting the dull.

 

Innocents wait in the gloom, not for sleep,

that abandoned them days before,

but for the crashing down of their walls and roofs.

 

Immediately after the first burst

other bombs flower from the initial vile

spreading further lethal blooms,

smaller flashes signal additional grief and ruin.

 

Over frozen white grounds tanks roar,

trucks full of invading troops advance

while the bodies of the dead caught in a new war grow.

 

 

Travelling North

 

Starting out,

 

filled multi-lane motorway

funnels traffic out of the city,

exits siphon sweltering commuters

to new swelling suburbs

of the ever-increasing sprawl.

 

Advancing,

 

petrol stations with fast food outlets

become the last stands

of the bulging urban,

eave to eave buildings give way

to fenced fields,

the busy dual carriageway

becomes a two-way thoroughfare

with decreased traffic density.

 

Further,

 

glimmering heat haze

on the blistering bitumen

creates mirages of moisture,

always far away.

 

Progressing,

 

abandoned decaying buildings,

once shops and homes

within hundreds of metres

of redirected road sections,

contain nothing but graffiti

and vague memories.

 

Continuing,

 

crows pick impatiently

at a small crushed carcase,

dazed by the easy meal

only moving just in time

after blasts of the car horn.

 

Travelling north,

 

saltbushes sway in seared soil…

 

the journey continues

still a long way to go…



Rob McKinnon lives in the Adelaide Hills, South Australia. His poetry has previously been published in ‘Freedom/ Rapture’ Black Bough Poetry, ‘Adelaide: Mapping the Human City’ Ginninderra Press, ‘Messages from the Embers’ Black Quill Press, Backstory Journal (Swinburne University), The Saltbush Review (Adelaide University),  Wales Haiku Journal, and other online and print journals.

 

 

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