Call Centre

A huge office is
crowded with desks
clacking computers
headset people
transacting on telephones
with faceless callers
who can not see them
on this free call number.
The callers must explain
their business to
faceless operators
who can not see them.

Hapless operators let loose
on a hapless public
after a few days’ training
must remember many pages
by rote to repeat back
relevant sections to
their baffled callers.

They must follow
the company script
with no exceptions
to what the company
has publicly advertised.

Originally posted 11 March 2016.

Call Centre

The Last One

A bright sunny church
with soaring rafters,
vast windows unlike
Ada’s childhood church
did not lighten her desolation.
Outside traffic roared through
the busy suburb evolved
from the beach side village
to which Ada had retired
after her husband’s death
nearly thirty years before.

In several pews sat the senior
citizens’ club, so young to be retired.
Those Ada had first known
in that little village now
all laid in the cemetery.
Only Rosie and Ada had been left
to ring each other every morning –
“I am well …. how are you ?”

Now Rosie’s children, grandchildren
filled more pews to farewell her.
Ada had no children only
a few relatives scattered
around the country.
Who would come to Ada’s funeral ?
More parishioners filed in,
young and middle aged.

Ada sat in the back pew,
in a foreign land,
her own country folk gone.
So many vacant birthdays
and anniversaries of people
no longer there to inhabit
them only their ghosts
surrounded Ada.

First posted 6 March 2016.

A bad virus and then family matters
have taken up my writing and blog
reading times, so for the moment I am
posting earlier poems for early 2016.








The Last One

Changing Landscape

Green lawn and lush vegetable
gardens sprawled beyond Nana’s
windows and French doors,
surrounded by lush leafy trees.

The lawn sprouted daisies until
mowed, and a random spread
of dog toys ignored by their
elderly owner but still thrown
by hopeful grandchildren.

Silver beet packed densely into
a dark green mass, carrots sent
up a delicate feathery forest,
thick dense heads swelled
from cabbages and cauliflowers.
Strawberry plants covered their
own patch, covered themselves
by black stretchy bird netting.

Nana’s weak heart can no
longer nurture this garden.
The contractor mows grass
over the old back yard.

Changing Landscape