June 27, 2005

On A Roll!

Just a quick note to let you know that my villanelle "Lace Curtains"has been nominated for the InterBoardPoetryContest. It's the first time I've been nominated twice in a row. I usually manage to get one nomination per year.


Posted by Midus at 10:17 AM

June 24, 2005

The Wee Small Hours

Good morning all...actually I should be saying Goodnight.

The last couple of days have seen my lazy b**ch of a creative Muse come back from vacation. Hopefully she won't decide to hibernate for the Winter.

I've just posted 4 new poems below this message. Two of them were in answer to the bi-monthly challenge at About Poetry.com. We are given some lines selected from a poem by a published author and use them as a trigger to hopefully inspire a masterpiece...for some it works! The two from the Challenge are Everyone Uses Shorthand and A Good Memory is Essential.

The other two poems are my take on a couple of well established forms of poetry. One is the Villanelle Lace Curtains (dedicated to you know who!) and the other is a Ghazal (Guzzle) entitled Diversity. The've been quite well received on the forum. I hope you enjoy them too and don't expire from boredom by having 4 poems to read in one go.

Next time I hope I have something more interesting to write about.


Posted by Midus at 12:34 AM

Lace Curtains ~ A Villanelle

Turn back the quilt, take me in your embrace
Whisper words I’ve waited all my life to hear
Transport me to another plane, another place

Shrouded in the shadows I can barely see your face
yet know each gentle feature I hold dear
Turn back the quilt, take me in your embrace

No hesitation now, in this our special, private space
where time stands still, with you so near
Please transport me to another plane, another place

I watch the moon rise through the curtain’s lace
Then see the tracery transferred to skin so clear -
Turn back the quilt, take me in your embrace

Once joined, our beating hearts increase in pace
We soar to reach crescendo without fear
as you transport me to another plane, another place

Sleep heavy arms reach for the other to retrace
each touch.Before these stolen moments disappear
turn back the quilt, take me in your embrace...
Transport us to another plane, another place

Vickie Farquhar (c) June 2005.

Posted by Midus at 12:14 AM

Diversify ~ A Ghazal

Let me, in your gentle company, myself immerse -
but if I should back away, I beg you not to think I am perverse.
I’m merely wary of commitment – aren’t we all afraid to fall?
It’s not the loving that I’m scared of - just there’s no time to rehearse!
To find you’re not the man I dreamed of frightens me to death
So I’ll beg you to forget it and I’ll find something more diverse
to occupy my time, like racing homing pigeons…
it couldn’t possibly be worse.

Vickie Farquhar(c)June 2005.

Posted by Midus at 12:12 AM

A Good Memory is Essential.

Honey drips from smiling insincerity
salve wounds from yesterday’s spiteful barbs
and all the time she lives in hope that
He will forgive her, her stupidity.

Yet in the darkness of his mind
a silver thread weaves in and out
waiting in amongst the lies
to trip him on his own foul words.

Degradation and misery are his stock in trade
plied as if gifts to the victim of his rage,
until he tangles in his own deceit -
and the innocent replies ( to his surprise)

I used to love you once …
but never more –Leave the key
on your way out.
Then she smiles a secret smile,

forgives herself and drinks
a toast to new found peace.

Vickie Farquhar (c) June 2005.

Posted by Midus at 12:09 AM

Everyone uses Shorthand


Writing things down
In lists and on calendars;
‘Ways not to forget’…

Forget – now there’s a word for you!
‘To let go out of the mind’
Interesting …like releasing a bird

Where do all the forgotten words go?
Is there some place where all the bull shit
and beauty are catalogued and stored

away in a safe place
where they will never again see
the light of day

or be read by anyone else
but a dull as ditch water
‘Keeper of the Words’

with an acute case of
amnesia and short term memory loss -
unable to remember even their own name?


I received a letter from a friend the other day. It was actually delivered by the postman.
I wanted to frame it, but it was too personal.
No one ‘writes’ letters in these times, so it was something of a rarity -
perhaps I should frame it after all!


I’m suffering from an acute lack of communication – not with my husband and family,
but with people outside my circle of comfort. I want to have long discussions on World shattering events and how beautiful my dog is. I need to discuss the change of seasons and the education system…or lack thereof…but no one has the time.
Everyone uses shorthand. Life has become an abbreviation…they seem to forget the words.

Vickie Farquhar (c) June 2005.

Posted by Midus at 12:07 AM

June 16, 2005

It’s bloody Bitumen!

( a note to a memory)

….so anyway, I went back;
packed up the car and just drove
for hours, along what used to be the track,
and found it bloody bitumen…but it led to nowhere
I remembered.

I guess they made the road all-weather
for travellers to the big town up the road
because the place I wanted wasn’t there –
just tired and silent lines of houses
on streets wide enough to turn a bullock dray.

Two old dogs lay outside the pub, one raised his head
the other scratched as I walked past, into the
cavern of the public bar. I recalled the women
had to sit apart back then, in what was called
‘the Ladies Lounge’
and listen to the men tell bawdy jokes, pretending
not to hear.

I ordered Margarita, but changed it to a lemonade
because the barman smirked and raised an eyebrow
when I mentioned Lime…and all the while
the red dust hung suspended in the air.

That’s not changed – the dust,
it’s still everywhere, coating every surface
and, when the wind blows, gets in your
eyes and nose and food
to add a little crunch.

I must have dozed, for I’m sure I saw you
walk in through the door but then I shook my head
to find a weather creased old man, who tipped
his hat and ordered XXXX – so I knew it wasn’t you –
you always ordered Johnny Walker Red.

It’s close on 40 years and now the smells
of beer and sweat co-mingle with the
dust and midday heat, to flood my memory
with how it used to be.

They’re right…you can’t go back;
just visit for a day.

Vickie Farquhar (c) 2005.

Posted by Midus at 11:21 AM

I'm A Mirage

Hot tar, melting in the midday heat
lends acrid fumes to summer haze

that ripples into an illusion
of our bodies floating in a half-world

not connected to the ground
but existing on a sleepy plain

where irritating, buzzing flies drone
a monotonous wordless chorus.

Rivulets of sweat pool in unlikely places
giving cause to thoughts of melting

into puddles on the parched front lawn –seared
by the molten copper disc high in the sky.

Vickie Farquhar(c) 2005

Posted by Midus at 11:17 AM

June 03, 2005


The title just about sums me up at the moment.
I haven't a clue what I'm going to write about, so bear with me for a while and I might actually come up with something worthwhile.

There's not a lot going on here, just the garden taking up a lot of my time, not to mention my constant companion Zelda, who thinks she owns me - until Rob comes home. Of course, when Rob is home, he has my undivided attention. Unless, of course, it a night when there's something decent on the TV!Zelda demands his attention and usually gets it. She even manages to get him running on their morning and evening excursions.

Actually Rob's been pretty engrossed with a debate he's into on one of the sites he visits, so he hardly misses me sitting at my computer next to his. He's also been busy submitting his resume in search of a permanent position. Hopefully one will eventuate before his contract at Centrelink runs out.

One snip of news that may interest some of you; my poem "Today I Make Polenta", which I posted previously, is one of three selected by About/Poetry Forum to represent them in the IBPC (InterBoardPoetryCompetition). There are approx. 26 Poetry forums who each submit 3 poems each month - so the competition is pretty stiff. I'm just happy to get a look in. I did place second a couple of years ago and I made the cut about a year ago, but nothing since then. Now it all depends on the preferences of this quarters judge. Keep your fingers crossed for me.

I caught up with an old friend the other week, when we invited her for dinner. She's one of those wonderful down to earth people, very much involved with her family and her siblings...she is one of 8kids, so I was delighted to have her accept. She came armed with a nice bottle of vino and a box of chocs, of which, I must admit, I ate the majority. It was a really lovely evening. The next day she returned to bring two large bags of lemons and limes - she has a large surplus. I've turned them into Moroccan Preserved Lemons, Lime Pickle and some Lime/Olive Oil/Chili salad dressing. I have, of course, made some for Suzy too.

Doing the preserves gave me the bug and I stayed up late the other evening bottling spiced pickled onions. I also strung up some of our chilies to dry. My herbs are doing well and are finding their way into a variety of dishes.

Speaking of cooking, I've got a casserole that needs removing from the oven, so I'd better finish. I'll be back soon with another poem to post.


Posted by Midus at 04:58 PM