Posts Tagged ‘interesting’


Saturday Poetry Prompt Fragments

September 15, 2013

I had my little challenge I gave myself to write a few poems about the day and the happenings that was Saturday. I did pretty well writing about 6 poems in their rough and rugged state. I won’t put them all up now as it will take up a lot of space and they are sketches of final products, so I’ll put up some parts of three and hopefully together they will make a picture of my day, thoughts and activities.

Later on I will post up the complete poems individually and they’ll be added to my poetry project called ‘Isles’, which is a compilation of poems reflecting my experiences, thoughts, actions in Thailand.

Enjoy the fragments if only a fragment.

Peace and regards,




It’s a massive cliché to say

that a day brings new possibilities.

Though I’ll say it because it’s obvious;

Appropriate to any day and especially

this one. Justified beyond creativity.

Specifically defined for this moment.

The hours of waking and the eager

excitement of a new awakening.

Seize the day is another cliché

but I’ll grab it as intended

and just like the phrase says.


Centipedes curl in fighting on the ground.

Lizards awaking from their pathway slumbers

scatter into the brush. Butterflies

chase each other through the vines

with one thing on their minds.

A constant whir hidden close in the trees

singing the song of the tropical heat.


A peach sunset falls slowly over the bay.

The beach cools, the tourists shake their towels and stroll,

the shadows on the green hills darken.

I sway in my seat, sip my Singha, and mull.


What is your favourite idiom? A little about idiomatic phrases

August 30, 2013


My last poem was ‘For Good’ and this has little to do with the poem apart from the use of an idiomatic phrase or idiom as the title. I am a teacher and teaching idiomatic phrases is always fun as it leads to so much confusion. Their meaning is not really derived from logic, but is usually effected by the specific culture and its use over time. They often evolve into something far from what they once were.

I love thinking about the etymology of some of ours words and the origins of some idioms that, when you sit down and try to explain why we say it, you simply cannot sometimes! Usually you just have to say…”It is because it is! No more questions! Just “Get on with it!” “Teacher…get on what?” “It means shut up and work!”


‘For good’ is pretty easy. It literally means to do something for a good result or to a good end…but we mostly use it these days as ‘forever’. When we say, “I am stopping smoking for good.” We think, OK, they are stopping smoking and never doing it again. We don’t think, they are stopping because it is good for them (although it is!).

When I write fantasy I enjoy changing common idioms of ours to reflect the world I am creating to create more authenticity in the world and just for the fun of doing it. For one example,  I replaced ‘anyway’ with, ‘by the strike’ I usually don’t explain it as I think it create more of the feeling of foreign-ness, like when you go to another country and they use different phrases.

I love thinking about idiomatic phrases. In Australian English there are so many that are just ridiculous, crude, and bizarre. One that epitomizes those three of those words is, “We’re not here to fuck spiders.” I always smile when I hear a bogan say this. You many google that phrase and ‘bogan’ if your do not know each or either.

Any weird or wonderful ones out there? Think about your own idiomatic phrases, how they evolved, and how you can warp them!

Peace and regards,





An Ode to a 65 Cent Can of Soup

August 16, 2013

Someone grew the potatoes,

tending to them with effort and love.

They were fed fertiliser

from a farmers prize-winning bull,

and only harvested when

they broke the soil of their own volition.

The barley spread out far and tall,

fit for a movie scene

with famous hands running

through their golden stalks.

The spoilt carrots break God’s mould

becoming almost red

and disfigured from gluttony.

Tomatoes and green peas

planted next to each other

vie for their master’s attention,

contesting for rich soil with

bursting colour and size.


All these vegetables chopped into anonymity.

Put into a can sitting on the lowest shelf

of a supermarket. Sometimes even hidden

by products waiting to be shelved,

or placed right at the back,

where no one can see them.

And if anyone did notice,

they would mock them,

or even worse;

pass them by.




Little morning wordies with table of contents and a question at the end.

August 10, 2013

I posted a new poem, in the previous post to this called ‘An Excuse’, so look at it if you want to read a poem and skip these other word below.  Here are some more little morning wordies for ye. Sorry for their non-correlating  nature, but that is how my brain works; like a variety show

Table of Contents:

1. A funny coincidence (To warm you up)

2. On writing a novel and the linear nature of my culture realization of time and identity. Some novel writing thoughts. A question.


1. Recently it came to my attention that there is a ‘popular’ show called Offspring that was popular and some people on twitter/Facebook/the News (really?)  were freaking out that a character died. It made me confused and frustrated, but just as I saw this I watched a new episode of Futurama (S07E20, I think) and the same scenario happened on the show where a popular TV character had died. A reporter was on the news interviewing a crying fan and said, “This must be a difficult time for people who confuse TV actors with actual friends”. I giggled to myself and wish a reporter in real life had said this…I wish I was a reporter some days just to troll fools…moving on.

2. I had it in my mind to start a new novel, but my fantasy one from before that hit a written (but not ideas) road block just won’t go away, I’m always thinking about it, the characters, and the things I have planned for them to do and the lives they will live (if short lived). So I have decided to persevere.

One thing I have always done writing novels is to write it in a non-linear way. Linearity is a concept very normal in my Anglo-Saxon-Australis cultural heritage, but it is a strange thing for some cultures which do not have a real concept of the past or future. I did my masters in Linguistics and it is interesting to research these concepts which to us as quite bizarre, such as talking only in the present tense and referring to dead people as if they were still alive.

So, thinking about this with writing, my novel has little excerpts of other things that are happening in the world at that time, but the way I write a novel is I’ll be writing one bit, get stuck, then think, “This is a good scene” and I’ll write something happening in the future with some other characters that have not existed yet. It is a pretty good thing to do as we can’t always strap our imaginations down onto one part all the time, so it lets your imagination wander around a bit. Also, when you get to the future part, you have some ideas already to build off. (I will post a paragraph of some stuffed I jammed yesterday).

What my point is, do you think it would be too confusing to write a novel that skips back and forth through time like a drunk in a bar retelling the tale of his day? Does anyone have any examples of this done well or at least attempted?




Ideas really are dangerous…

June 26, 2013

Just below this post is a first sketch of a poem. It is not really a poem, it is just a mass of thoughts purged onto the digital paper so far, but I like putting in first sketches as when you get to the finish you can look back and see what u were first thinking or trying to think and how you have managed to articulate it all into something more coherent or purposeful.

I don’t usually like to explain my writing. It should explain itself or express something from within the reader from without. A connection. But, I think I have more to say here. Perhaps more for myself than for anyone reading this. I’ve just recently moved out to Thailand and have finished my Masters and as we do in life as we take one more step down the stairs of life into the darkness of the possibilities of the future, we dip our little toes down and we feel for where the next invisible step is. And how we make these steps are influenced by our ideas…and as I said, ideas really are dangerous.

We think we create them and own them, but they came from somewhere, just like the spark at the start of the universe, and their life is beyond our knowing. They are entities in themselves and they occupy us and like any life they are selfish in their need to propagate. If we don’t consider what they are and their forces behind our actions, then we start acting beyond our needs and do things for the idea alone, becoming mules for their carts.

Ideas brainwash me all the time. Funny thoughts or notions can occupy my mind, but I can quickly dismiss them, usually by another silly idea. But some endure and the longer they endure, the harder they are to shift out from your consciousness. You have been fulfilling them for so long that you and this idea have formed a symbiosis. The idea cannot live without you enforcing it and you cannot be happy without fulfilling the morals, ideals, rules, path, etc. of this idea.

To stop speaking in grandiose vague terms, perhaps I will use myself as an example. As a child I wanted to be an historian or a scientist or a basketball player or a drummer. In the end and for different reasons, the historian idea had more fertile ground to grow and won over the others. In university this evolved into being a writer/poet. In chasing/supporting this idea, one of being a teacher came up, and this is where I am today through many exciting and frightful escapades.I still have all of these ideas inside of me, and myriads of others in a complex ideological ecosystem fighting for dominance over one another, as do we all.

And now finishing another step in my Master course…I am left at the edge of another precipice, questioning the motivation for any of it. I do not feel I have made wrong decisions, but that right now, in a million different mes I could be anyone doing anything. And that perhaps is my point. Ideas are dangerous. Do not believe in them, do not become their tool, but use them as your tool. Take a step back from the precipice and evaluate your next step. Evaluate the steps you have taken and do things for yourself. For ideas have a life of their own and ideas really are dangerous.


Ideas are dangerous (First Sketch)

June 26, 2013

Where does this notion come from

this feeling within that wants us to be special

to be different and other than what we

humans, are? We are all one beings

constantly fighting each other and ourselves

showing our flairs and cherishing our foibles.

Is it our biology? Our drive to procreate,

show our peacock feathers? To attract

the opposite sex? Or for those that cannot have children,

perhaps just to have success and explosions of positive feelings?

Isn’t it selfish? Are we not all one? Take a step back

see ourselves and how we are all the same.

We don’t like it. Our pre-prehistoric urges

stand out – To be the one, the leader, the top ape

on the highest branch, the one to spread our seed

or to have the seed spread in us, tricks us.

But if I say that we are all the same,

that is an affront to individuality.

To independence and choice.

To these sacred notions of freedom.

They have a life of themselves. A sort of

philosophical evolution and will to survive.

We give these ideas life, but do they come from us?

They are like bacteria in our minds

catching and spreading. Whether they are wrong or right,

that is just another one of their tricks

as there are no ultimates. In the blackness of space

before and after us, nothing exists. But we,

we are fertile ground for ideas in the cosmic winds

to plant and grow and like any life, their only purpose

is to grow and not die and they will do anything to survive

selling death, wealth, treachery, independence;

any sales pitch to make us fight for them.

To enslave us to their plow and drag out the troughs.

The smartest are the most susceptible,

the most verdant of soil. For although weak

this way they may dominate the strong.

These seeds of thought are planted

in their rich dark abundance of possibility

for these hosts and intellectuals propagate their ideas

with much more conviction than those

that just be. For those that do not care so much for ideas.

Soon enough their indifference will end them.

They will be embroiled by the fight of these philosophies.

They will be infected and forced to decide what is wrong and right

better and worse, what you can and can’t.

They make us organise them into books of thought,

make political parties based on these thoughts,

enlist those who are ignorant to destroy the land

to build more houses to breed more believers

and when an idea will not spread through its form alone

it will enlist us to make armies to hammer opposition

still holding onto the original idea as sacred

but warping it into something complex and confusing

so that even if we can question it, it will be beyond us.

Everyone but those who know the truth.

So what can we do is not think, but destroy all ideas.

All selfishness. All organisation. Revert to our true selves.

Live free of ideas and only hold feelings.

And what is the truth? Well let me tell you…



Poetry fragment…

February 17, 2012

A life sliding by and how would you feel?

With no love. Not just romance.

But, no love in any form. Can you conceive it?

A world without feeling or passion.

Imagination destroyed and just arbitrary movement

from point A to point B in your life.

The future being just what happens next.

It has no light or brightness

or darkness, pain or grief.

Just a box painted with hollow pictures

containing nothing, but showing that everything is fine.

Perpetually ready to be trodden on, swept away,

not forgotten, but never even remembered.

Triumphs are gone. There is nothing to be

won or lost. Worth is senseless.

Remembrance and celebration become habits.

Dates followed by dates filling up numbers on cardboard.

A glass raised to numbness, downfall, and acceptance

at the end of the year. Repeat. Watch the changes in pictures.

Mourn the loss of the past for no reason you know,

except just its passing. A vague feeling that it should not

but no excuses or way to explain or stop it

if you were somehow given the chance.

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I.J. Keddie

Poet (of sorts). I'm hiding behind your curtains.