A couple of poems for y’all…

Hey Bulldog/Jude/all who care to read this,

Today is an absolutely BEE-YOO-TIFUL day in Adelaide! It is 25 degrees – 25! I can’t remember the last time it was warm… Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m fully aware that Adelaide weather gets to just under double that in Summer (I believe the highest temperature last Summer was something ridiculous like 48 – except we were in Singapore at the time…), but 25 is enjoyably warm, so I can truly sing ‘Here Comes The Sun’ (perhaps George is looking down!)!

Now onto something OTHER than the small-talk-ish topic of weather… I haven’t posted a poem in donkeys’ years, have I? (Nor have I listened to my favourite Beatles solo album, Imagine, in a while, either, so I’m currently doing that, too. ‘Jealous Guy’ – my fave John solo song – is currently playing.) I had two poems in the vault (oh, tangerinetrees99 – BE DONE WITH THE CLICHES!), and I really could not decide between the two as to which I should post – and that is why there will be two poems today!

The first is called ‘the café’, and I wrote it this morning after coming back from my guitar lesson and brunch in town. Really, it is about my experience in the café (which – I might add – I’ve been to a-million times before, but had some kind of non-religious epiphany today) this morning: sitting in the sun, reading a beatnik anthology magazine, sipping iced tea, eating a croissant, y’know – all that stuff. I really like this poem, and I am proud to proclaim it is the first good remotely happy poem I’ve ever written (my teacher last year forced me to write one, but it was rubbish)! Usually, my poetry is very sad and dark and depressing, ‘cos I write when I’m sad (among other things), but sitting in the sun/café this morning (and possibly reading that magazine – The Canary Press, it was called) was kind of like a muse, and I knew I just had to write about it. And just a note about the formatting – yes, I do know about correct grammar, and that you do have to capitalise the start of sentences, and in poetry, you generally start new lines as, well, new lines. I just thought I’d break the rules – and put the poem in ‘align right’ – and I’m pleased I did! So, well, here it is – enjoy!

the café.

by tangerinetrees99, 30.08.2014

sitting at a table, the
heat-tinged sun beating down. nibbling
at a toasted croissant, dusted
with olive oil. sipping
a jam jar of iced tea, the
ice seeping through the glass. folky
blues playing in the background. humming
‘here comes the sun’, an
apt name for this saturday. chatter,
chatter, chatter. little
girls dancing to lilting twelve-bars. smartphones
ringing. bohemians
drifting through,
their skirts trailing slightly behind. dropping
out from all the noise. reading
a year-old issue of the canary press,
the pages amber through tortoiseshell imitation ray-bans. curly
hair darting about in the wind,
the ties on the nineteen-sixties shift-dress flitting ahead. thinking
about the story in front of my blue eyes, pondering
what to do. but
suddenly i recall something, an
old friend who has seemingly come back to play:

And now for Poem #2… ‘I Don’t Get This Debate’. At school at the moment, we are studying poetry in English! Fairly early on this term, we spent a little time looking at thematic poetry – the theme being ‘Kids vs. Adults’. We spent the lesson studying a couple of poems, plus ‘I Don’t Wanna Grow Up’ – the latter involved listening to Tom Waits and The Ramones (separately). We were then going to write our own poem a bit like the above, but that all fell through. But I – however – had a fabulous idea for mine, and wrote it down directly after that lesson about a month ago! I really didn’t get the debate, so I exaggerated my life a bit (just the slightest bit. Sarcasm may or may not be intended.) and wrote a poem called, well, ‘I Don’t Get This Debate’. Hope it makes you laugh, ‘cos it’s meant to be funny! I’ve already showed it to my school’s writer-in-residence – who thought it was funny, and loved it – my mum – who also loved it (thanks!) – and a few friends – ditto (again, thanks!), but apart from them, you are all the first to see it (you were certainly the first to read ‘the café’). So – like the above – enjoy this funny, cheeky, and a little bit naughty (if I say so myself 🙂 ) poem!

I Don’t Get This Debate

Really? Kids versus adults?
I absolutely do not get this debate.
Yeah, I get that you all think adulter adulthood is all
Bills, bills, bills; ‘Honey, did you get dinner?’; loans, loans, loans; ‘No, I didn’t – you told me to get breakfast.’; think, think, think; ‘Oh my God – how could you?!’; blah, blah, blah. Oh, and you have to be – gasp – mature!
(That may or may not be sarcasm.)
And you all must think that those tower-toppering tall-as-a-tower shouting-hotspots known as adults think that you’re all
Procrastinate, procrastinate, procrastinate; ‘Barbie, what dress do want to wear to your wedding with Ken?’; tantrums, tantrums, tantrums; ‘What – you’ve broken up with Ken?’; chasey, hide-and-seek, NOT MORE IRRITATING GAMES; *sobbing*; blah, blah, blah.
(Well, you must have something in common with your elders, if ‘blah, blah, blah’ is an item on both lists…)
But – onto the point – what on flipping Earth is all the commotion about? Why does this debate even exist?
I mean…this could just be me, but:
I’m allowed to stay up almost as late as the parentals.
(Sup, dude – I don’t have parents, I have parentals.)
And I’m kind of allowed to swear.
(Why the  f  Hell aren’t you?)
And I’m allowed to watch some as many “adult” TV shows and films as I like.
This is why my favourite films are rated M XXX.
And I can sometimes play my music as loud as I like, and the parentals aren’t bothered.
Oh, and I listen to music on vinyl, too.
Which makes me seem as old as the parentals, too.
(They’re never bothered – I know, ‘cos they never tell me to turn it down. See below for PROOF!
*Revolver playing really loudly*
“Turn that down! Are you trying to get freaking Tony Abbot to hear ‘Taxman’, or something?” – that’s Mum.
“No. I just like it loud.” – me.
*Exasperated sigh from parental.*
See? SEE?)
And the parentals trust me so much, they don’t even bother giving me internet-related restrictions.
Want proof?
I’ve been sitting here, all day, writing this poem (and checking my faux Facebook account, and posting on my faux Instagram account, and Skyping a blackmail note to my Dad using my fake Skype account…), and I haven’t yet been told to get off! Not even once. But – if I say so myself – I’ve got a really good reason to b-
Bloody hell.
Sigh. I get this debate.

Hope you have a gear rest of your day, wherever you are Across The Universe, and if you’re Adelaidean, be sure to enjoy this luv-err-ly weather! Good day sunshine (literally!) 🙂