ruminating with change October 2007
Clock Ticking
I wake, pull curtain halfback, check the cool floor clock-time zoning by
in the pale five thirty light of a quiet, pre-kick off verandah glow
heat the kuala kettle, yellow-green mix of herb, lay table, bread, mug water there
the rear garden light lifts up in praise, washing the cool morning air
go to the computer to check e mail, who has written to me
ha, as usual, it’s empty, full of blank, weak infinity
waiting for the trying cockerel to begin to yellow-card crow
then, the cup check, to grab the latest kick for touch going high
Forty Minutes (Part 1)
the time difference meaning one cannot watch many of the games in the week
the bathroom water heater is on, the switch glowing in the room’s silent air
rub wife’s back and legs, ‘ah, yes,’ in half-pleasure groaning
the kettle whistles in enthusiasm, tough maul water moaning
the air con reigning from a night of rucking, grinding away
the beginning of the maple morning coming now into tree arm play
ex-Scotland Beattie, suggests the World Cup might cease to care
if the two once a year hemisphere competitions begin to creak
Half Time
it might hasten the demise of North and South, kicked into touch, on cue
he gets a lot of support, from me too, a revamped world rugby prospect
would benefit the game, the ‘weaker’ countries too, as in cricket, one might think
become tougher opposition - apart from these, what other sport can you ink
in the quarter finalists three years before the oncoming competition?
In both the World Cups, one can see the unending triumph of repetition
the problem? The Old Boys who palm the ICC, the IRB would, for sure, reject
there are many who think that, with both groups, their time is, yes, at last, through
Forty Minutes (Part 2)
the boy emerges from bedroom sleep, to breakfast, then elongating time to take
warm skin-soaking cherry shower; the girl comes out later, with tied hair and tie
cool prefect uniform, the morning cockerel increasing the colour to the pale air
the hot porridge, the chocolate complement each other in glucose care
I check the time, next to the roll of Chinese windswept calligraphy
the upright mug going down like a high drop goal flying through its geography
flag up; the car key ignites, the security bleeps twice as if to wish me goodbye
checking the score of a competition that I find hard to keep interest off the brake
Blow for Full Time
The morning grows in intensity from the unremitting pounding beach
the washing machine pushes out for morning work, thrusting in top gear
the plates clatter, the birds commence their wake up, in presence and, as if in tune
the half-grey morning light now replacing the swept-away off-white moon
the rear door unlocked, the keys clatter back into the drawer’s security crack
windows opened, mosquito netting grates in the groove, cool air emerges on track
the Malay siswi girls opposite go for their bus, peace again now coming near
I watch the small, green car lecturer make her fern-growing way to work to teach
