PLUMA Featured Poems: “Wil of Arabia” / “In Kuietterland”

poem away home


Wil of Arabia

by Wilfred Waters


The hot, sandy sun beats

The ground like an angry giant

Belting a toy drum


A year’s seasons

Are four brands of punishment

Than a turn of light,

Colour, sound, leaves


This is the desert

The streets exist for sweepers

Past them we speed

Away down the 30 like a bushfire up a

Slope of crackling gumtrees on a hot day in Australia


This is a land filled

With story tellers

Of carpet sellers

Who refer to their rugs as babies

Refusing sale to a bad home


Who are so genuine

So filled with non commercial

Uncool love

They will tell you a story

For half an hour after the sale

Which took 2 hours of other stories to get to

For their pleasure in your company


Capitalism can be done right.


This is one of the world’s gas stations

Ships snake across the globe

Stopping off at the North and South Piers

On a journey of replenishment

So Americans can do their road trips

Greeks can ride their ferries

Australians their mining trucks

And so Malaysians can fly


So we can all live this modern life of


Annihilation of the ancient challenges of survival


This oh so satisfying existence want of want

Where the Arabia I know

Is no sweat in summer for the aircon

The twist of a throttle

Offers 50 times walking pace

Where a 1000 mile boat trip

Is no pain for the diesel slurping

House sized monster of torque

Churning a blade of metal

Unstoppable by the most persistent of Pacific doldrums


Where food tumbles in abundance

Not from branches but shelves

Oblivious to the fashion of the sun or rain

In places called




We have won

We have beaten the weather

The earth itself

Is our thing

We are not Locke’s fearful beggars

Stumbling through a Nature

Whose primary response is to try to kill us

Our lives are not solitary


Poor, brutish or short


Thanks to oil

Thanks to Arabia

The life of a King the poorest of us lead



The 1000 construction workers


So far

In creating Qatar’s world cup fantasy


They are the poorest of us

Their lives

Are nasty




But should we let them suffer in solitude?

Heart attacks due to

Overwork in the height of summer

Without airconditioning?


A life of struggle as though the

Benefits of oil never found them,

When it lays all around them?


What does Wil do in Arabia?

What will you do in Arabia?

Live like a king.


More at Gisnoborders






In Kuietterland

by Armineonila M.


Only crazy feet come to Kuietterland

Only crazy wilting puppies licking seats

The mammals sink under their feet

sing the sole bunny beat

for suckerland

then smell the stench of trickery

in muzzled symmetry…


Oh, poor puppies

envy the falcons’ helipads

and hypochondriac horses

sing the sole bunny beat:


“Lick the dishes,

lick the floor,

use your head

to shut the door!



Only one way route to Kuietterland

Only throttled barking lasts

Lift the mob with poor dead puppies

Kuietterland pays cold burnt bars.


More at Muse in Briefs 






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