PAPERBACK BOOKS

2011 In Curses...oops sorry...Verses


curses cover

Poetry is a delicacy best kept at a succulent simmer... ready to be dipped into and tested for its gratifying flavours... for its blends and aromas, its memories and promises, its surprises and reassurances, its salty, sugary, spicy vinegary  reconstituting of all things predictable. 

In this collection of over 211 poems and verse, the year 2011 has not been allowed to fade away ingloriously. It has been speared onto a fondue prong in segments – day-by-day, month-by-month and swirled around in a jumbo-sized cauldron of thoughts, opinions, commentary, humour and quirky observation... recorded in a form which renders it forever: “Not to be forgotten!” 

Sometimes cheeky and outrageous, occasionally achingly sad and poignant, this book is a must for that growing army of news aficionados who create, report, watch, blog, tweet, diarise, or otherwise follow the transient disturbances which regularly erupt to shift and unsettle our ever-shrinking globe.

In Store Price: $29.00 
Online Price:   $28.00



AMAZON

 ISBN: 978-1-921919-65-7    Format: Paperback
 Number of pages: 258
 Genre:
Non Fiction Poetry


Author: Janet A. Williams
Imprint: Poseidon
Publisher: Poseidon Books
Date Published:  2012
Language: English


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AUTHOR BIO 

 

Born and educated in North Wales, Jan Williams taught Physical Education in England, Jamaica and Western Australia before changing lanes and moving via Brisbane to Townsville in FNQ. 

She attributes her poetical inclinations to her early exposure to Welsh traditions.

HERE ARE SOME SAMPLES:

Midnight, 31st December 2010

 

 

Damn, Another New Year’s Eve!

 

Two thousand and ten was the busiest year.

Now reflections collide, and the mists reappear.

A newsbreak re-hashes the year that has been.

Two seconds per image flash up on my screen…

…in a whiz.

 

Old memories wink, and I glimpse an odd mix…

as the midnight countdown serves up a quick fix.

Dead faces. Live faces. They look the damn same.

Barack Obama waves down from a plane…

…just like show-biz.

 

Was that an African footballer scoring a goal?

Or a Chilean miner stuck deep in a hole?

An oil spill?...Volcano?...An earthquake in Haiti?

Julian Assange? Or William and Katie?

…a fuse starts to fizz.

 

Was that the Pakistan deluge, or the monsoonal rain

that drowned half of Queensland? Could you show that again?

But, no…it’s too late…this year’s gotta go…

as the vu’zela’s trumped by a pink party blow…

 

Happy New Year!

 


1st January 2011

  

Regrets

 

Dammit all, I’ve got to swear!

I’ve got to get it right:

I’ve promised lots of curses

in these verses that I write!

 

But I’m not a happy swearer

– tho’ I’ll try my flippin’ best –

so I know I’ll feel much better

once I get this off my chest.

 

I’m just a duffer as a curser.

I’m so sorry, now, I lied.

I only put the title in

to catch your blinkin’ eye.

 

But it worked alright, so here we are

– a sorry bleedin’ pair.

You, expecting blasphemy,

and me, too shy to share.

 

Aw…alright, then

hell!...’n damn!...’n sod!...n drat!

There, now, I’ve given it a blast.

We’ll have to hope that friggin’ volley

is enough to bloody last!


12th January

Britain – Reports released by an interfaith British group indicated that a number of Britons are converting to Islam and that a high percentage of those are young women in the 20-30 age group.

 

 

The Angel of Dearth

 

Do I look a bit mysterious

beneath my silken veil?

I’ve practiced all the glances

and I don’t intend to fail.

 

I’ve gone for something different.

I’m going to convert.

Instead of being plain old Jane,

I’m going to assert

myself.

 

You people just have no idea

what pea-brained drones you are.

You plod the treadmill day on day,

too dumb to stray too far…

 

to try a little otherness,

experiment a tad…

ignore the folks who say to you

‘it’s just another fad’.

 

They’ll never ever understand.

They haven’t got the will.

They’ll never know the feeling,

the secret….blimmin’thrill

 


of being scowled and frowned at,

of being disapproved…

and knowing they can’t do a thing

to have your veil removed

ha…ha…

 

My friend, she has a nose-ring.

Another has spiked hair…

with crude tattoos all up her arms

for just a bloody dare.

 

But, me, I’ve got my flimsy veil

with flimsy thoughts to match.

It makes me float above the throng

like an angel on dispatch.

 

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