ode against october

By Adam Gibson

october, what shall we do with you?
you offer no specific promise,
no telling cliché nor
fundamental electricity.

you sit in the barren crevice
between the end of the football season
and the start of the cricket.
your weekends have no direction:
no kick-off to dictate movement,
no sessions to dictate the lack thereof,
plonked on the couch,
the thwack of willow against ball
on lime-green screen.

october you offer us nothing
with your weather we cannot trust,
33 degrees one day and
18 the next with a southerly
direct from mawsons's hut
(only minus the penguins.)

october, you can't be tipped or picked,
the bookies won't frame a market,
the spring carnival only empties our wallets
and there is no christmas to drink to,
no remembrance day to forget,
your labour day is simply a chore
of pacific highway snarls and
cottesloe chaos (weather permitting)

october, what shall we do with you?
your days which pointlessly don't save daylight
and dawn at 5am,
your sunsets that tease with a hint of lingering
but pull the pin when we arrive at beach.

october, get over and done with,
you've had your fun and now it's time to
go …

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notes on poem: The idea for this came after a request from Steve "Karpy" Karp, "beeuty". Lamenting the lull between footy and cricket season, Karpy suggested the topic. It's perhaps a new path for me ... the "poem by request". It's a bloody good idea ... and if anyone else has suggestions for topics to be covered, please feel free to let me know! I'm serious.
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