two poems

by Bruce Greenhalgh

3 x H20

Rain fell

It had no choice,

what with gravity and all that.

Now it lies flattened on the pavement.

How sad.

The human body is 60 per cent water,

which means you can get most of me

from the bottled water section of the refreshment centre at the 7-Eleven.

Of course, you could also get most of me

from a faucet,

a lot cheaper and probably no different.

Steam rising from a kettle and –

there’s a haiku there,

somewhere.

Isn’t writing a haiku

an exercise in condensation?

Short pants

Wednesdays make up a seventh of my life.

I’d have preferred more Saturdays,

but I had no say in the matter.

My time wearing long pants exceeds

my time wearing short pants,

maybe by less than you’d think.

Roughly a third of my life I’ve been asleep,

perhaps, worryingly, a lot more that that

(if you know what I mean).

Lunch might be for wimps,

but lunches have made up a third of the meals I’ve eaten.

I rarely skip breakfast so

at least 90 per cent of another third of my meals

(are you still with me?)

have consisted mostly of breakfast cereal.

Time for a rethink on that one?

If I’m a poet,

I’ve been a poet most of my life.

If I’m not a poet,

I’ve wasted a lot of time.

Photo of Bruce Greenhalgh

BIO: Bruce Greenhalgh lives in Adelaide, South Australia, where he reads, writes and occasionally recites poetry. A collection of his work has been published in Friendly Street Poets, New Poets 19 with individual poems appearing in the Weekend Australian, inDaily, Ariel Chart, Spank the Carp, Rue Scribe, Witcraft and various anthologies. One day he would like to write a truly compelling bio, until then…