Tag Archives: Kate O’Neil

Poem of the Day

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Would I chance it, Stephen?

 

Certainly not. You’re more likely to drown

if you swim under skies that are murky and brown.

And what’s that fence here for? Who cares if it’s green.

I’m more concerned with its ungainly lean

and its reason for being here. Something’s not right.

It belongs somewhere else (and would look better white) –

which prompts me to wonder just where it has been.

Did it come in a storm? What’s it all mean?

Blue bottles on beaches don’t appeal either,

glass ones or stinging ones. I insist neither

of these little dangers should ever be seen

on a beach where I swim; I’m a stickler for “clean”.

And one other thing: there’s no one else here;

I like to know that a life-guard is near.

That settles the matter. I wouldn’t go in.

I’d choose somewhere else for my holiday swim.

 

But if you’re inspired by your re-arranged mess

the outcome, I’d say, is anyone’s guess.

 

Kate O’Neil
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #7

poetry-prompt-7

 

Poem of the Day

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What Aesop’s tortoise might have taught us

 

I remember the race,

and the confident hare.

I remember the win.

But I really don’t care

for the moral that’s drawn from

that one-off affair.

 

The hare could have won

and if truth be told,

races are meant

for the fast and the bold.

But the rat race, the human race-

both leave me cold.

 

For racers don’t see

what is perfectly plain

to the slow and the steady –

all the living you gain

going at my pace

in the slow lane.

 

Kate O’Neil
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #5

poetry-prompt-5

Kate said: I initially planned to have the tortoise address the bird, but the poem had other plans. I remember as a child being annoyed by the way generalised moral pronouncements could be extracted from specific “one-off” anecdotes. This fable was a case in point. That idea took over.  Sorry bird. Maybe next time.

 

 

Poem of the Day

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School Rules

 

Books and pens and scratching chalk

Gotta think but you’d better not talk

Stop that running. Can’t you walk?

You must obey the rules.

 

Rewrite this page – and keep it neat.

Please don’t fidget with your feet.

Please sit properly on your seat.

Don’t you know the rules?

 

Perhaps you did not hear me mention

that you have to pay attention?

If you don’t you’ll score detention

writing out the rules.

 

Writing rules? I’d like that gig.

Creative writing’s what I dig.

Woo hoo! Stand back for something big

when I write the rules.

Kate O’Neil
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #4

poetry-prompt-4

Poem of the Day

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Flame Trees

 

Come November

the flame trees

begin to wear their fire.

Over there a winking ember

peeps cautiously

from a green crown,

hinting at Christmas

and stirring nervous thoughts

of fire in green places,

 

while nearby, an extrovert,

naked through winter,

makes a spectacle of herself

in the full flare

of a brand new red dress.

 

How do I look?

she asks seductively,

 

and even the old Jacarandas

in their cool quenching blue

offer nothing but

compliments.

©  Kate O’Neil
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #3

poetry-prompt-3

Poem of the Day

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Buccaneer Banquet

 

The buccaneer bragged to the butcher,

“My Kitchen Rules, for sure,

so gimme those guts for me banquet tonight

and a coupla bears and that boar.

 

I’m goin’ all out on the barbie,

with bacon and bangers to boot,

served up with a broccoli garnish,

and for afters, a basin of fruit.

 

A good balanced bash for me hearties,

from Yours Truly, the Buccaneer Host,

and if they wake up in the morning,

they can get their own coffee and toast.

Kate O’Neil
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #29

Poetry Prompt #29

Poem of the Day

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Colour War

In the garden

orange nasturtiums arrived

and went wild

taking on the whole bed

of Flanders poppies.

They clashed terribly.

The nasturtiums

made swift advances

crawling stealthily

through the proud

rows of nodding red

blooms heavy with

memories of far fields

and so many dead.

The poppies knew

what was coming.

“All’s fair in love and war,”

shouted the nasturtiums,

tumbling them

into disarray before

trampling them

into the bed

in bloody conquest.

Kate O’Neil
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #15

 

poppies copy

Author comment: Nasturtium  – a symbol of power and of conquest and victory in battle.

 

Poem of the Day

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To visit the Wizard

We’re off to visit the wizard,

the wizard so wise that he knows

just what to do next

if ever you’re hexed

and the best way to clean between toes.

 

This wizard does not use a blizzard –

no blizzard, no twister, no snows.

No silly pretext.

No need to be vexed.

Nothing that you might suppose.

 

This wizard is well worth a visit.

To get there, as everyone knows,

you don’t need a text

that might leave you perplexed.

You’re fine if you follow your nose.

Kate O’Neil
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #18

Poetry Prompt 17

Poem of the Day

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UQ

If you were a ewe

would you queue

too

(ewes

usually do)

if you knew

it was true

that waiting for you

at the end of the path

was a bath?

Or would you

shoot through?

Kate O’Neil
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #Prompt77

Poem of the Day

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Mind your Ps and Qs

A Cautionary Tale
by Kate O’Neil

 

The ticket’s important.

Your favourite show

is almost sold out

but you’re dying to go.

 

You groan at the queue

but you can’t walk away;

there’s no other chance.

You must see it today.

 

Yes, you’re dying to go,

But not just to the show.

One coffee too many,

and the queue is so slow.

 

The choice is so cruel,

What will you do?

You have to choose now:

The queue or the loo?

 

It’s Nature that wins,

As Nature will do,

but you’ll know next time

that it’s ‘P’ before ‘Q’.

 

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #Prompt77

Kate says: This is a poem inspired by the long-treasured advice of a favourite aunty.

 

 

Poem of the Day

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M.Y.D.B.

Kate O’Neil

 

I hate it when it happens

and I bet you hate it too.

You’re just walking on the footpath

and there’s dog-poo on your shoe.

 

And your friends say ’Phew!

I don’t want to sit with you

‘cause you just trod in dog-poo

and there’s dog-poo on your shoe.”

 

I know the dogs can’t help it.

Dogs just do what dogs just do.

But, owners, when you walk your dogs,

please collect the poo.

 

  • Author comment: “M.Y.D.B.” is to be ‘published’ as a laminated sign on the grassy footpath near a Bush-care site I work on. For obvious reasons.