Apr '14 7
Last year Australian author Gail Jones gave a talk called 'Discovering time' which was in the context of her beautiful book Five Bells. One of the statements she made was: 'a poem is a kind of room; we rest there', which inspired today's poem.


Siesta

It's half past three in the afternoon
time to make a cup of tea and go to my room

lie on my bed
sink into my head

hear the ticking of my father's red clock
wear my mother's cream wool shawl

and I sense how a poem is this kind of room,
that here, within its irregular walls

I can examine the dents in the wardrobe
trace and follow the lines on the floorboards
breathe the memories in shifting spaces

and when I open the blinds it is inside out:
the room contains more than everything outside it.

Posted by Jennifer Liston

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6 Comments

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  1. Robert says:

    *What a great place to start! ;-) xo

  2. Jen says:

    *To start...? At the very beginning, you mean?! xoxoxoxo

  3. Ray says:

    *One's innermost sanctum is always the most beautiful place in the whole universe. Another lovely piece, Jen.

  4. Russ says:

    *Nice poem, definitely one to revisit when your marathon, I mean month, is over.

  5. Jen says:

    *Thanks Ray and you're right: how lucky we are to have such peaceful places!

  6. Jen says:

    *Thank you Russ. :-)

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