Saturday, February 26, 2011

Tasmanian Europa Poets' Gazette No 83, March 2011

Fear Of Darkness

A serial novel by Joe Lake.

(So far: Julie Jones and her husband have come from Sydney to park their Winnebago at Cooee beach. They have an encounter with a woman in Burnie Park. Later her husband has an accident. The ambulance and police come and a shot gun goes off. The husband is taken to hospital and when Julie visits him she finds he has disappeared; so has the van when she returns to Cooee. When she goes to the police station, they don’t believe her.)

Julie sat on the bench in the police station’s waiting room when a mobile phone, not hers, lying on the bench, plays a jingle. She looks at it, then picks it up. “Yes?”

A man’s voice says, “Julie Jones?”

“Yes.”

“You have lost a husband?”

“Yes.”

“He’s with us. He’s safe. He owes us $5m. in gambling debts. We know that he has won $10m. over the last two months and we also know that he has hidden it but he won’t tell us where. You find the money and then you’ll find your husband.” There was a click and the phone cut off.

Julie pointed to the woman officer behind the counter in the station and then to the phone. She was too shocked to say anything.

The officer raised her head questioningly.

“That’s it, someone just rang on this phone which is not mine and they said they have my husband and that he owes them a lot of money.”

“I’d better ring detectives. Wait there a minute and don’t touch that phone any further.” She lifted up her phone and had a mumbled conversation with someone. “A detective will see you in a moment,” the policewoman said.

Julie put her right hand to her chin and rubbed it thoughtfully while her left arm clenched the right side of her waist.

A few moments later a man in a suit and tie appeared. “You’re Julie Jones? You have some difficulties as to having your van misplaced and you can’t find your husband and someone wants money from you?”

“That’s correct. I just had a phone call...”

“Come with me,” said the officer. “I have an office upstairs.” He went through a door at the rear of the station and up some stairs.

Julie followed him.

The detective held a glass door open for her and pointed to a comfortable chair opposite his office desk. “Now tell me first of all your full name and address. I’ll type it into the computer.” He had a lap top on his desk.

Julie told him her name and her husband’s, where they came from and that they were on holidays. She also told him about the phone call where the caller wanted $5m., or else...

“Did you know that your husband owed money?”

“No.”

(To be continued next month.)

Tasmanian Europa Poets' Gazette No 83, March 2011

My Songs Of Religion,

Contemplative Sonnets, is nearly finished. I had the chance to do the last editing when sitting on Somerset beach in my fold-up chair, watching Judy parade the dogs. The part-kelpie sheep-dog mongrel from the pound likes running in right-handed circles for hours, herding imaginary sheep and the little old terrier barks aggressively at anything that’s bigger than her and then runs away; life’s like that. Anyway, here I was editing and amazed how the detached mind can see the obvious, not seen before, when Judy came back saying that she is sick of walking by herself along the beach and how much nicer it was when we both walked together barefooted with the wavelets playing with our toes. I had to get up, fold my chair and leave the editing half done. That’s the story of my life.

My novel is half finished (it’s not the one on this page). The computer counts the words and I need 80,000 and I have just over 40,000 - there you go, the great Australian novel set in Lilliput; I hope I’m joking about the latter. If you’ve been reading my little novel on this page, you’ll find that Julie is in big trouble because her husband has been kidnapped by bookmakers. He owes millions. If you have any spare money please send it to Julie so she can get her husband back!

Next month the gazette will be in its eighth year.

Chinese Religions

The Chinese preach of discipline and rite,

Where ethics rise from most Confucian truths

And Buddha is revered to shine the light;

As Taoism makes nature’s myth abstruse.

Yang is positive, as sun and fire,

Where reddish masculinity is warm;

While Yin is dark as lust’s desire;

The blackest femininity of harm.

Heaven is Yang, the Sun; and Earth is Yin

That’s harmony with all, alive or dead,

Must lead to what is best for one’s own kin;

Restrain and love with less, as Lao said.

Confucius felt the call; he could explain

That we must die and fade and all in vain.

© Joe Lake (from Songs Of Religions)

Tasmanian Europa Poets' Gazette No 83, March 2011

Raging Look

Was a young man once,

This last cold, raging look,

The boy with freedom in his arms,

A mother smiling at fearless son,

The Green oasis in petrol blue,

Traffic growl smothered by laughter,

Eager heart pounding, energetic,

Despair lies in oak tree shadow,

Brazen sun dancing in delight,

Agony concealed; the boy lived

as train over bridge clattered,

As the toy shop bade welcome,

And the chef with the knife

sliced ham delicate-thin -

Welcome to the parlour;

Mother was love and love is,

Hid tears of impending farewell,

Until it was all too late;

The Green is still the Green,

The boy has paid the price of years.

© Michael Garrad February 2011

Tasmanian Europa Poets' Gazette No 83, March 2011

How often do we ignore the detail?

In a contract, for instance. So eager are we to sign for that mortgage or bank loan, we just - sign! Or a credit card. Do we read the fine print? Just sign because we have an increased limit.

Or with accounts that come in regularly - like insurance renewals, telephone, hydro power, water; on and on it goes.

Especially when we receive cover notes with our bills explaining changes to this rate and that. Do we really have the time to study what we are being told? Glance at it, scan it, discard it. Do we truly know why we might be paying more?

Corporations, in particular, depend on this, our impatience, our rushed way of life. They just know the chances are we will throw the letter away, ignore it and hope for the best.

It’s human nature.

Of course, we complain when we go to hand out the cash and the smiling customer service officer says, “Sorry. You owe us another $50.”

Oh my, do we complain! And they say, naturally, “Have you read the cover note? Have you read the addendums to Clause 24?”

Of course we haven’t. We’ve been too busy working to make life comfortable.

It’s all in the detail, you see - like Life. It whizzes by but do we attend to the second, the moment, the hour? The detail?

Tasmanian Europa Poets' Gazette No 83, March 2011

Immortality

I sit in a darkened room, listening to Chopin’s music -

Softly, softly, it begins, rising from slow restraint

To a magnificent crescendo.

My veins pulsate, my heart’s arrhythmic

beat threatens

To overwhelm me.

And my head swells, along with the music,

in grand passion.

A passing parade of all my sad yesterdays,

Today’s struggles and tomorrow’s hopes

Crowd with a million voices

In my mind;

Then, with a jolt, I return to reality

And the thought that long after I’m gone,

Chopin‘s music will live on -

At least one of us will experience

Immortality!

©June Maureen Hitchcock July 2006

Tasmanian Europa Poets' Gazette No 83, March 2011

Equality Amongst Women

Women, you may have fought and gained

The rights to this and that,

But some may still believe that

They are being held back

By the oppressive opposite gender.

Paradoxically, it is often those who express

These sentiments who are the ones who step

On their gentle, timorous sisters

To accelerate their own powering to the top.

© Judy Brumby-Lake

Tasmanian Europa Poets' Gazette No 83, March 2011

No Love Like This

When the mantel clock had chimed at two

she knew that they should part

but his head was warm upon her breast

and love near burst her heart.

A while before he’d been awake

but his breathing restful now,

as her lips brushed gently o’er her cheek

then kissed him on the brow.

The empty lay beside them

and she knew that drink would keep

him in this state for hours,

lost in a dreamless sleep.

She’d known love before

but this time her heart was lost,

forever she’d adore this one

and never count the cost.

This night they’d lain together

until first pink glow of dawn,

hours she would always cherish

as she held her sweet firstborn.

© Pete Stratford 6.2.11