You can choose from poems which are
funny - serious/emotional
- ideas/abstract - set
in Thailand
THE RELUCTANT POET
I hate poetry but
poetry loves me.
That's no way for
a short story writer to be.
Why does it seem easy
to write my thoughts in poetry
when all I really want to do
is write them in short stories ?
One of these days
this idea I'll write
in the form of prose. I'll show 'em !
But damn it all if
I've written it in
the form of a bloody poem !
Aris Jade/14/7/87
NONSENSE
I'd be inspired
If I wasn't so tired.
I'd be alive
If I could but revive.
So much I could take
If I could awake.
So
Bring on the woolly sheep
I'm going back to sleep.
Aris Jade/14/7/87
HE SAID TO ME, "G'DOIGLA"
I know a man who walks around
With head a-tilted to the ground
Which he can't see, cause he's so round.
And he said to me, "G'doigla".
"What do you mean ?" I asked of him.
"The message seems to be quite dim.
Reply with sense, and vigour and vim !"
And he said to me "Constroidla".
"What is this language that you speak ?
German ? Russian ? Yiddish ? Greek ?"
And he replied, with look of cheek,
"I'll thurgle your construmlas."
The message then, it did get through.
"I'm fin'ly understanding you,
Though no-one else may have a clue.
The answer is `G'doigla'.
Aris Jade/27/7/87
CONDENSATION
An idea begins like a raindrop.
Molecules scattered far and wide,
Condensing on a speck of dust.
The drop forms,
Collecting more stray molecules
As it falls and gathers momentum.
Part-formed ideas float in the atmosphere.
Scattered far and wide, just waiting
For the right speck to condense upon.
The idea forms,
Collecting more stray part-icles
As it grows and gathers momentum.
Aris Jade/12/8/1987
MOMENT OF GILLIAN
The camera in my mind is clicking.
Motor driven.
She glides past.
Neither ashamed nor proud of
Her superb figure.
All heads turn.
I preserve the moment
In a series of quick shots.
Aris Jade/9/11/1987
HOME TOWN
I wander 'round this foreign place
Which used to be my home
My seat of childhood memory
Events now long since past
I think I never shall be free
(The influence does not fade fast)
Of the haunting of this foreign place
Which used to be my home.
Aris Jade/27/12/87
THE PROCESS OF WRITING
We sit here wondering what to write.
We all at times feel uninspired.
The pens are poised, the pages blank,
Ideas so many, words so few.
The ceiling it gets many stares
While bitten nails scrape at dandruff.
The eyes are poised, the minds are blank,
Beginnings many, endings few.
The merest distraction is sought.
The cups of tea are never ending.
Keyboard poised, but screen is blank.
The breaks are frequent, output low.
Final effort (one of many),
Intense visage of concentration.
Engines are poised, but batteries flat,
Objectives many, arrivals few.
Eventually we reach the end,
At last the work it is completed.
Our hearts are poised
But
Replies are blank.
Submissions are many, acceptances few.
Aris Jade/25/9/88
THIS PEACH
This peach reminds me
Of someone I know.
Downy soft on the surface,
Squishy and sweet inside,
With a stone for a heart.
Time ravaged and wrinkled the surface.
Time dried and blanded the inside
And the stone heart split,
to release the seed,
To begin the next generation.
Aris Jade/25-3-89
THEN, AS NOW
Front Page, May 23rd 1962,
Bad news, then as now.
Papua Invaders Under Rocket Attack.
Jets likely for Thailand.
Centre Dust for Sydney.
St Clair Wall Collapses,
Sports Centre Wreckage again.
Rosalind Russell's Jewels Stolen.
Crushing Machinery, Man Caught.
Baby Lost in Slipstream
and
Menzies Cabinet moves to Sydney.
The only good news,
Then, as now,
Is in the ads.
Aris Jade/13/11/88
DISABLED
I saw a boy in a wheelchair today.
A boy my age.
He couldn't hold his head still,
He couldn't eat by himself.
I pitied him, but then ...
I saw that he was smiling.
Was it part of his disability
Or was he really happy ?
Either way,
he smiled far more than I.
Am I really any better off than him ?
Aris Jade/21-2-89
HANDLE WITH CARE
Tread lightly
When you approach her.
For she has been mishandled
Many times before
By others too clumsy to know.
Including me.
Handle with caution
And try not to add to
The number of cracks
Showing where she's been broken
And chipped before.
Handle with love
And help to repair
Her near-shattered soul.
Aris Jade/17/4/88
DOES NOT EXIST
Her hair is blonde, or black or brown.
She wears a dress, jeans, or a gown.
Her beauty is beyond compare.
Or maybe not. I do not care.
The attributes above I list.
But
The girl I love does not exist.
The games she plays upon my mind
Are often very near unkind.
Can I imagine her as real ?
I long to be with her and feel
The love that all my life I've missed.
But
The girl I love does not exist.
Her body I so long to touch
Her warm embrace would mean so much.
The intimacy that I lack,
Indeed that I have never had.
I crave the lips I've never kissed
Of
The ideal who does not exist.
Aris Jade/8/11/1987
HOME TOWN
I wander 'round this foreign place
Which used to be my home
My seat of childhood memory
Events now long since past
I think I never shall be free
(The influence does not fade fast)
Of the haunting of this foreign place
Which used to be my home.
Aris Jade/27/12/87
WRAPPED FISH
Last night she came to my bed
And said she agreed to marriage,
And that she wanted never to leave me.
She said all that I had ever wanted to hear.
Then, as sleep arrived,
I dreamed of two fillets of fish, wrapped together.
I awoke and reached for her, but I was alone,
And wondered if last night, too,
Had been part of the dream.
But no. Her sweet scent still hung in the air,
Her aura of affection still enfolded me.
Yet when sleep once more came, the fish began to thaw.
When next I saw her, she could not meet my loving gaze.
Her eyes tributaried to an ocean of tears as she said
That she had agreed to marry ...
Someone else.
This night, I dreamed of
Three pieces of wrapped fish :
Two together, one separately.
Aris Jade/2-4-89
THE MISSING PIECE
There I was,
Hand held out, waiting.
Soul exposed, wanting.
Ready for love, needing.
There you were,
Hand held out, approaching.
Soul exposed, offering.
Ready for love, receiving.
But you
approached without arriving,
offered without giving,
received without accepting.
Why ?
Aris Jade/12-6-89
BANGKOK BY TUK-TUK
Insane speeds attempted.
Tinny clatter from all sides.
Tearing wind, inescapable.
Heavy traffic, no way out.
Passengers shout at local drivers.
We arrive safe, but shaking.
Aris Jade/13/11/88
TOURIST MEETS TUK-TUK
Too far to walk.
Think I'll take a ...
"Taxi, Sir ?"
He appears, simultaneous to my wish.
Fare negotiated.
Mind the roof.
Rocket take-off,
Adjust to g-force ten.
Sixty miles per hour
On a lawnmower engine.
Don't change lanes yet
... there's no room !
How come we're still alive ?
Mind that bus !
Stinging black fumes
Through open sides,
No windows.
No oxygen, can't breathe.
I'll faint soon.
And the driver lights a cigarette.
Traffic Jam, two miles long.
I'll get out here. Keep the change.
I survived
For another ride tomorrow.
Aris Jade/08-04-90
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