Europa Poets' Gazette No 73

I was listening to ABC Classic FM. They were discussing religion. It was said that if Jesus could have done anything for humanity, he would have told people to wash their hands. Millions have died and still do from infections they pick up with their hands. Semmelweiss, a Hungarian, in the middle of the nineteenth century, told his fellow doctors that dirty hands were the reason that half the women died in childbirth. They locked him up as mad. In Basic Poetry, I said, some years ago, that the Gospels were short stories written by poets. They are poetry. They make us feel good as fiction. Matthew Arnold said that all religion is poetry.
Winter is coming to Burnie. Judy found one bacon-and-eggs; this isn’t supposed to come out until spring. Is it global warming? You tell me.
I’ve put seaweed fertiliser onto my vegetables. It’s supposed to work miracles. I’ll let you know. The nashi fruit is finished and the pears on the tree are weary and ready to fall off. The birds have a feast. We intend to hold the Burnie Poetry Gold Pot on July 16. Join in, please.




The Happiest Man I Ever Knew
The happiest man I ever knew sits in jail
Guilt-free, metaphorically charged,
as was his due.
The newspaper headlines proclaim:
"Murderer jailed for life!"
Truth is, he ended his own life
And the guests gather to gorge
Sumptuously, viciously on the vulnerability
Proffered gently through iron bars.
And with insatiable cherry-stained mouths,
They drive away in the metal and glass prisons
They call cars.
© Loretta Gaul