My Poem, ‘Holding On’

April 30, 2024 ~ Libby Sommer ~ 2 Comments

Have a read of my poem, ‘Holding On’ first published in Old Water Rat Publishing. ‘Holding On’ is one of the pieces in my second poetry collection recently released by Ginninderra Press titled ‘Flat White, One Sugar‘.

I hope you enjoy it.

Holding On:

When we are wet and cold,

we shelter under umbrellas & awnings.

When a lizard is wet and cold—often seeming

frozen or dead—they drop from trees, stunned.

They’ve shut down, no longer able to hold on.

It’s true they like to wake up in the warm sun,

just like us, even though they are cold-blooded.

Maybe a blue-tongue lizard’s easy-going nature

is what makes them a popular pet.

Maybe it’s their striking blue tongue.

You see lizards climbing the brick facade

of your house as the rain keeps pelting down.

They may hibernate in a hole in the ground,

or maybe a tree trunk or a fallen log.

City living is challenging if you’re

clinging to walls & windows. Scaling

a windowpane without falling off is one thing.

When enemies approach, some reptiles,

nicknamed the Jesus Christ lizard, can run on water.

If surprised by a predator, some lizards can detach

their tails or change colour to escape their enemies.

Others can look in two directions at once.

We’re looking in the direction of human predators

executing genocide far away in a war.

We can’t make it stop.

Is there nothing we can do?

To hang on, lizards have evolved

larger and stickier feet, while wild winds

blow your umbrella inside out. These reptiles

have come to grips with their changed lives.

Maybe we don’t want to keep looking at

images of suffering. Rather, we could

get ourselves a biodiversity conservation licence

and keep an eye on a blue-tongue

backyard buddy,

or not.

Photo by Jana on Pexels.com

My Poem, ‘My Friend Is Swiping & Scrolling’

April 15, 2024 ~ Libby Sommer ~ 4 Comments

Have a read of my poem, ‘My Friend Is Swiping & Scrolling’ first published in Quadrant Magazine. I wrote the poem during the pandemic and it is included in my debut poetry collection, ‘The Cellist, a Bellydancer & Other Distractions‘ (Ginninderra Press).

I hope you enjoy it.

My Friend Is Swiping & Scrolling:

My friend in the dark hour before dawn. My friend with the ragged stomach who had a bad night. In a different hemisphere he is turning on the bedside light, rolling out of bed, pouring a cap of antacid at the kitchen bench. My friend who hasn’t left his neighbourhood all year. My friend in London pining for how things used to be, for the Eurostar crossings to speak German and Spanish.

My friend scrolling through Facebook to see the faces of his family. My friend living alone who aches with aloneness. My friend the glass-half-full-kind-of-guy listening out for the early morning train thinking, we’ll get through this, in time. My friend who sits through forty Zoom meetings every five days. A rush of nostalgic reflections but is everything nostalgia? We’re all in this together.

The extroverted friend and the introverted one scrolling & swiping at home, the teenage friend whose father is hospitalised for a third time, my friend in China who sends me a red envelope, my friend in France dunking a croissant as she swipes left in greyish gloom, my friend in kurta pajamas beating a tabla drum, my friend in activewear driven to over-exercise, my friend who is addicted to social media like I am.

My friend in Israel my stressed-out Barista friend behind a coffee machine my friend with only one kidney my friend in palliative care under a sign I do not want visitors my young friend who was warned at school about swiping & scrolling my friend next door, who wonders if we are complaisant already my friend who is feeling lethargic my friend who hopes everyone will go back to work soon my friend who tells me she has a problem wearing a mask my friend who pretends not to see me on the street, even she must be on Zoom with others by now, so I let her go.

Scrolling will distract me from uncomfortable emotions as the cafes near me say takeaway only and the stores where I used to window-shop have empty frontages with To Lease signs and the famous writer I wish I’d had the courage to speak to when I had the chance, is diagnosed with dementia in another country, I snatch at memories of post cards sent back and forth. So who else should I pick up the phone and dial and say, Are you okay? Who else might I never see again?

All of us scrolling & swiping in the mornings and the afternoons and in the evenings near the hotel with the old TOOTH’S SHEAF STOUT Keeps you fit! poster telling us a tantalising beer with a dry finish and a medium body.

Photo by Tofros.com on Pexels.com

My Poem, ‘Regrets’

March 31, 2024 ~ Libby Sommer ~ 8 Comments

Have a read of my poem, ‘Regrets’ first published in Quadrant Magazine. ‘Regrets’ is one of the poems in my recently published second poetry collection, ‘Flat White, One Sugar’ (Gininnderra Press).

I hope you enjoy it.

Regrets:

Driving through the streets of the city

on a Sunday, we’re talking about

our crazy mistakes, the men we separated from,

the ex-husbands who remarried and married again,

those we shouldn’t have let go.

‘Yes, it’s hard having no-one to turn to,’ you say,

reversing into a “no stopping” space.

The signpost doesn’t mention Sundays.

You turn the ignition off

and cover your face with your hands.

‘I’m so hopeless at parking,’ you cry. ‘He used to tell me

we’d need to catch a cab to the kerb.’

I laugh and pat your shoulder.

‘It’s fine,’ I say. ‘You’re sticking out a bit in front,

but you can try again … or not. Nothing’s perfect.’

My words surprise me,

rising above the rush of traffic,

a sweet fortune cookie prediction,

forgive yourself,

you did your best.

Photo by RDNE Stock project on Pexels.com

My Poem, ‘Hostilities’

March 18, 2024 ~ Libby Sommer ~ 4 Comments

Have a read of my poem, ‘Hostilities’ first published in Quadrant Magazine. I wrote the poem during the pandemic. It is one of the pieces in my debut poetry collection, ‘The Cellist, a Bellydancer & Other Distractions‘ (Ginninderra Press).

I hope you enjoy it.

Hostilities:

I worry about the ones

who disbelieve in science,

the ones on social media

with no qualifications

but a good command

of gobbledygook,

and the one who said

she’d had enough of wimps like me.

Scientists observe and calculate,

study the risks,

wave us across

as we wait by the side of the road,

even though the science of pandemics

is incomplete.

It takes a lot of guts sometimes

with those who are close to us.

Relatives, old school friends, intimates …

Anti-vaxxers still find arguments

to fire at us. I think of Aristotle’s warning:

there is only one way

to avoid criticism –

do nothing, say nothing,

and be nothing.

Photo by Edward Jenner on Pexels.com

My Poem, ‘White Ibis’

February 11, 2024 ~ Libby Sommer ~ 2 Comments

Have a read of my poem ‘White Ibis’, first published in Quadrant Magazine. ‘White Ibis’ is one of the poems in my debut poetry collection ‘The Cellist, A Bellydancer & Other Distractions‘ (Ginninderra Press).

I hope you enjoy it.

White Ibis:

We wish that nature could stay put

in their home, far away …

not urban tip turkeys, bin chickens –

not like us,

scrounging for a living in cities,

but stay where they thrive,

feeding in swamps, lagoons,

floodplains & grasslands

their black downward-curved bills

digging for crayfish and mussels.

The farmers’ friend,

featherless black heads

flocking in V-shaped flight

to locust-afflicted areas,

gorging on ravaging hordes of insects.

Unlike us, they can eliminate

plagues with ease.

There are nights when we fall asleep

dreaming of ibises

flying back home.

Photo by Luis Arango on Pexels.com

My Poem ‘Survival’

January 23, 2024 ~ Libby Sommer ~ 2 Comments

Have a read of my poem ‘Survival’ first published in Quadrant Magazine. ‘Survival’ is one of the poems in my debut poetry collection ‘The Cellist, a Bellydancer & Other Distractions‘ (Ginninderra Press).

I hope you enjoy it.

Survival

More gusts of wind

through new high-rises

sharped-edged.

More traffic,

more construction dust

much overshadowing

in grey & black.

Newly-planted in the local streets

the bottlebrush should know why it exists:

nectar feeding of insects,

of butterflies & birds.

East of the city

blue beaches dazzle & swell.

They re-emerge

in a spring break out

giving hope to the lone crimson flower

squeezing through densely-packed leaves.

My Poem ‘Here’

December 12, 2023 ~ Libby Sommer ~ Leave a comment

Have a read of my poem ‘Here’, first published in Blue Fringe Art & Literature Exhibition 2021 Collected Works. The poem is also part of my debut poetry collection ‘The Cellist, a Bellydancer & Other Distractions‘ (Ginninderra Press).

I hope you enjoy it.

Here

Each night the train

you cannot see

sounds a final journey

and the lightness which lifts you

in its healing promise all day

lets you down.

Now you pace,

heating up rooms,

pulling down blinds.

Into the silence

with its unknown destination,

conversations not yet had

or imagined.

Midnight threatens,

more enemy than

the worst enemy.

But, you are here now

in this moment.

Photo by Alex Fu on Pexels.com

My Poem ‘Distraction’

November 13, 2023November 13, 2023 ~ Libby Sommer ~ 2 Comments

Have a read of my poem, ‘Distraction’ first published in Burrow, Old Water Rat Publishing. It is one of the poems in my debut poetry collection, ‘The Cellist, a Bellydancer & Other Distractions‘ (Ginninderra Press) 2022.

I hope you enjoy it.

Distraction:

My crimson bougainvillea

lives in a good-drainage-pot.

I feed it fertilizer, and I keep

the soil a little on the dry side.

The bougainvillea thrives

with five hours of full sunlight a day,

scrambling vigorously up

a frame attached to the wall.

It flowers three times a year

with heavy pruning, lack of overwatering,

a fertiliser low in nitrogen and its roots

slightly restricted in a small container.

I watch the plant’s flourishing from my bed:

its blooming brings beauty to my day.

It stops me from watching the latest news.

My Poem, ‘Her Amber Necklace’

September 5, 2023 ~ Libby Sommer ~ 4 Comments

amber stones that form the shape of a necklace

Have a read of my poem, ‘Her Amber Necklace’ first published in ‘The Thirteenth Floor’ XIV UTS Writers Anthology. The poem is part of my debut poetry collection ‘The Cellist, a Bellydancer & Other Distractions‘ (Ginninderra Press). Hope you enjoy it.

Her Amber Necklace:

my mothers dead

my mothers dead my brother said

he jumped in the air and

clicked his heels together

her children and grandchildren

and great grandchildren all came

jumping and bouncing

on forbidden chairs

we all laughed

now

distant lights scatter black night