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New publications + Somebody likes Mondays

Up and coming publications.

I have had a poem accepted at Mused - the BellaOnline Literary Review. It will appear in the Winter Solstice Issue out on December 21st. They are the self proclaimed 'Voice for Women' but they do accept submissions from men, unlike some sites I've come across. In other words, it's very nice to be a part of it. The poem is called Waiting for the Symphony. You can download their magazines for free.

I also had two poems accepted by the Citizens for Decent Literature, (a project of the Literary Underground). The poems are called  Roundabouts and Us & them and the things in between. I've never had two poems accepted at once before.  Not entirely sure when they will be up. It's nice to end the year on a high note. 

Submitting work has taken up a lot of my time this year and though I've had success I may scale it back next year as I want to start work on a new novel.

I promised no more depressing poetry for the year, so I had to dig back a little. This poem was written in 2011. I really should lighten up. The poem is self explanatory. 

Somebody must like Mondays

There’s a whoosh and bang
And I know it’s not the movie
I pause it
And the room is blanketed by silence
Yet the noise goes on
It reaches in from outside
Out Front
But somehow
Which I soon recognise as Fireworks
On a Monday night.

Not being holiday season
I race to the door
And see exploding light shooting from
The middle of the intersection
Where four suburban roads meet
Two metres from my gate
I check around and see a guy
Deep in the background
Walking up the street
Pausing to look back
More likely at his handiwork
Pulling on his cigarette
Before he merges with the night.

I don’t know if he was alone
Yet I yell out,
Which may not be so smart
Given that I’d only just watched a crime doco
The night before
About a disturbingly similar incident
In the UK
Where three teenagers
Caused mayhem outside a family home
The father came to move them on
And they kicked him to death
Metres from his two young daughters.

I would never approach them
As I know all too well (a story for another day)
About the unpredictable immediacy of violence
And the cowardly actions of young scum
Who more often than not
Grow into older scum
They are especially malignant in groups
And must be avoided
Whether they are at fault or not.

My baby daughter
Is asleep in the front room
So I was pissed off
That the loud intrusion might wake her
And it wasn’t late
So there were cars going by
Which created enough problems
If not the risk of an accident I realised that maybe I’m just getting old
As I was annoyed enough
To call the cops.

I suppose,
Once upon a time
I was a little shit too
Finding adrenaline in the night streets
Laughing at authority
As all those older are the enemy
But I wanted to see those fuckers caught.

Sometimes you catch yourself.

And then I went back to the movie.

Next week,
The final poem for 2012.
In the meantime, the Best Songs of 2012 will continue, right through until the last day of the year.

Until then,


  1. It does depend on their motivation. If it was to annoy, then they are smart arses, but if they did not have the life experience to think that fireworks could wake a baby, then they are just idiots. But if they continue to do such things into their thirties and beyond, like our neighbours did until they realised I would not put up with their shit, then they are scum. I remember waking people by setting off fireworks in our backyard in Sydney very late one worknight. I just wanted to see the colors, I had not thought about the fact that we were waking up the neighbours - a few drinks might have had something to do with that. The neighbours asked us politely to desist. I would not think of doing it now that I am older - and drink less. I take it as positive - a sign of maturity, and not as a negative - the loss of youthful exuberance. Think of the things that you did when you were really little, but don't do now.

  2. I think the point of the poem is the second last line, 'Sometimes you catch yourself.'
    In this case though, the fireworks were actually in the middle of the road, at a cross section, often used by cars and buses. So it wasn't just the noise, it was dangerous and stupid.

  3. That's the thing with poems, sometimes people get them, sometimes people don't.


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