The Concert

Erasure Poetry

Bright light,
plentiful mirrors
the long sweep of lace curtains.
Faces scattered,
people.
She played a running melody.
Swollen fingers
worked
her wrists and hands
dizzily.
The room
seemed full of people;
stupid people who made her play.
She played
through trembling limbs
and burning eyes;
played and sung
hoping to discover the secret.
Nervous,
she laughed
and thrilled out
into the air –
the day before the tennis tournament.

Copyright © January 2013 Norma Martiri

Created from Pointed Roofs by Dorothy Miller Richardson

The Concert

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My New Blog

Tom Phillips

Hi Everyone,

I’m very excited about my new blog, Erasure Poetry. I was recently introduced to it via dVerse and I’ve been having lots of fun with it ever since. It’s not a popular form but I was hoping to perhaps challenge a few of you to try it out, and bring together those of us who already enjoy creating them. Please visit my blog and have a go. I’d love to see more of your wonderful talent.

http://erasurepoetry.wordpress.com/

Saturday Night at the Movies

Image

The drive-in’s
big night was Saturday.
Kids wandered in pyjamas
until they crashed
full of chips, Pluto pups and fizzy drinks.
Teenagers got up to antics
as parents feared,
and beer was drunk.

It was hours lounging
in camping chairs,
takeaway meals,
mattresses in the back of utes,
mozzies,
the occasional storm,
with fogged windscreens.

People went to the drive-in;
Australia was outdoors.

The screens have darkened
leaving excursions down memory lane.
Sites have been devoured
by development
where cars once lined up
and kids sat on pillows
to peer over
mum and dad’s shoulders.
They now sprawl in front of the TV.

Copyright © December 2012 Norma Martiri

Form: Erasure Poem

I have very fond childhood memories of going to the Paspalis drive-in in Nightcliff, Darwin with my family in the late 60’s and early 70’s, most of which are represented in this poem. My mum and dad would sit on picnic chairs in front of the car with a fold-up table full of food, and we kids would sit on a picnic blanket and eat our dinner in the cool. It was too hot to sit in the car in Darwin — it was alfresco even before we knew what alfresco meant. After dinner we’d go up to the shop to buy ice-cream and goodies. By the time the second movie came on we were buggered and slept on the blanket at our parents feet or in the back of the station wagon lined with a mattress while mum and dad sipped cold beer and enjoyed the movie. It was what families did back then.

Taken from an article by Terry Sweetman published in The Courier Mail on Sunday, 23rd December 2012

Taken from an article written by Terry Sweetman
published in The Sunday Mail on Sunday, 23rd December 2012

Being Different

Flickr image by Ksenia Korneychuk

Flickr image by Ksenia Korneychuk

Amusing –
everyone talks.
She is different.
What nonsense!
This is her way,
she is alone,
for herself.
Her clear quiet eyes
wide open
tearing,
passionless,
charmless.
A little figure –
rather striking.

Copyright © December 2012 Norma Martiri

Form: Erasure Poem

Taken from A Bundle of Letters by Henry James

Being Different