My Poems

Posts that contain my poems

‘Eventually’ – the AI encroachment

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Eventually 

I used to have jobs.
I used to think for myself.
I used to create poems - with my actual brain.

Three words into my laptop
and it talks back in iambic pentameter,
with a twisting ending and a metaphor to toast.

My car stops before I do.
My watch tells me when I’m tired.
My fridge has opinions.

Even my vacuum’s ambitious -
one job that bored me silly,
now my house is always spotless.

And looking at myself
I’m becoming a better person:
unbothered.

I used to measure things—
well, I used to be a bit of a statistician
steps, heartbeats, syllables …

Now it is peaceful seconds
absorbed by the hour,
as life stretches through a few yawns.

As regards achievement
metaphorically speaking it’s preloaded.
I just download fulfillment.

Eventually, I’ll do nothing —
well, there’s nothing I’ll have to do.
and I’ll think nothing of it.

And this poem,
well, it will be a poem
I won’t have to write.

 Richard Scutter

This poem was recently Short-Listed in the recent Lambing Flat Writers 2025 Competition at Young NSW.

You do have to check AI responses very carefully to make sure they are correct in what they send. I found it interesting that AI slop was crowned word of the year by Macquarie Dictionary’s committee and people’s choice categories.

From Wikipedia –
AI slop (sometimes shortened to just slop) is digital content made with generative artificial intelligence, specifically when perceived to show a lack of effort, quality or deeper meaning, and an overwhelming volume of production.[1][4][5][6] It is a form of synthetic media usually linked to the monetization in the creator economy of social media and online advertising.[7] Coined in the 2020s, the term has a pejorative connotation similar to spam.[4]

Lost in the Bush – in memory …

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Australia is a very large country. There are fast areas of remote land. And in some places the bush is very dense and not easily penetrated. From time-to-time people get lost due to misadventure and those that plan walking in these areas need to take extreme care especially taking plenty of water.

Unfortunately, I have just experienced such a situation firsthand involving the brother of a close friend, Peter Willoughby, who became lost in the HollyBank Forest Reserve in northern Tasmania in early October. After extensive searching he could not be found. I will not go into details of the situation that caused him to become lost. Below is my memorial poem. My prayers are for all those who have to come to terms with such a loss.

 Lost in the Bush
in memory of Peter Willoughby

there are special places time itself forgets,
where no foot treads, where gum and bark in secret reign;
the Bush endures all weather, all regret,
impervious to loss, indifferent to pain

the centuries pass untouched by human hand,
    while inside the Bush’s wanton stare,
                 nature in silence evolves the land
                             never knowing the life that’s there
but sometimes fate, in tragic circumstance,
                draws a man to wander a path unknown;
                           remaining unseen by the searching glance
and the Bush receives a body — quietly, as its own

                        forever held in nature’s keep,
                        where earth and memory together sleep.
         
Richard Scutter 15 October 2025


You – a poetic elaboration

richinaword My Poems, Other words on poetry Tags: , , , , , , 1 Comment

I have been considering the one-word poem YOU. It is up to the reader or listener to meditate/associate/respond according to the receptive nature of that individual person at the time of reading or hearing. That is, if that person has time to contemplate such a poem in the busy 24 by 7 world of today.

Here are some positives in relation to such a poem to stimulate thought –

Subject and Object: The beloved is both the reason for the poem and its entire content. They are not just being addressed — they are the poem.

Economy of Expression: It says, “Nothing else matters. Only you.”

Devotion: It’s a surrender — the lover reduces the infinite complexity of love to a single, defining presence: you. If it is a lover that is being addressed by this word.

Mirror: It can also be a reflection — the beloved might see themselves in the poem, but also see the lover’s entire being poured into that word.

Timelessness: Unlike longer poems, it doesn’t age or tire; it remains whole and immediate

I have expanded the one-word poem into the following to give more poetic expression. But again, the subject and object of the poem depends on the reader/listener for interpretation.

                                           
YOU

I wrote a hundred lines.
Burned them.
Too many metaphors.
Too many ways to almost say it.
Then I wrote your name.
Once.
Paused.

The page stared back —
full.
Complete.
Crowded, even.
Everything empty
nothing
except

… and you read it
                  as if I’d hidden more,
                         but there is no more to say
                                               



What can I say … enjoy being you … whoever and wherever you are. And thanks for reading this Post. You are important; essential in keeping poetry alive.

.

Easter Sunday and accomplishment

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Easter Sunday

not just another day
of going to work,
or if you are retired 
sitting at home -
or maybe coffee with friends -
no, this day is special,
I mean really special,
in fact, quite extraordinary. 

I liken it to crossing the finish line -
the finish line in a marathon
the completion of quite a project
and I can assure you,
completing my first marathon
was no easy thing.
at one stage, with cramping muscles,
I nearly gave up.

I had - or have somewhere -
a medal for that achievement.
but that was some time ago
and of course I have moved on,
forgive the pun, to other things
like supporting family members
which, as you well know,
can feel like an ongoing marathon.

metaphorically speaking
looking at Easter's medal -
the gold upon gold of His trophy -
well, I believe he sure deserved it,
even if some fail to see it:
the trophy held high for all to share,
                      that living moving victory
                                                of eternal life …

The one word I have chosen this Easter Sunday is accomplishment. Perhaps a time to reflect on what each of us are accomplishing or want to accomplish in the progression of life. You may not have a long-term project. You may be focusing on trying to accomplish tasks on a day-to-day basis as you age!

But after any major accomplishment there usually comes a time for celebration. And each year at Easter Sunday there is an ongoing celebration as a tribute to the unique Easter accomplishment. So, whether you are into party-party or just happy in some quiet way to celebrate Easter; enjoy this special holiday day with family and friends.

Best, Richard Scutter 20 April 2025

I remember one Christmas time …

richinaword My Poems Tags: , , , , 1 Comment 
I remember one Christmas time

I remember one Christmas time
it was the lead up to Christmas Day 
I was at Batemans Bay
it was going to be a hot day
I went down to the local beach before breakfast
intent on a morning dip
I didn't notice her at first 
lying on a towel high in the sloping sand

I came out of the sea fully refreshed
as I walked past her 
she confronted me with a bubbling smile
then arrested me with words - I'm in heaven
I was momentarily taken aback
it is indeed an idyllic part of the coast
magnified by the brilliance of the clear morning
then the realization …

the sad realization …
you could say
all her Christmases had come at once
as I walked back home, I thought
she would probably have a hell of a Christmas Day …
a little different from my family celebration

that was several years ago
heaven knows where she is now

Richard Scutter

Quite a few people find Christmas time and of course Christmas Day a very lonely, depressing time. The unknown person referred to above was a sure candidate. The drugs that pervade and destroy the young come to mind.

This young girl, well I don’t know how life has panned out for her!

The Christmas Gift that is for everyone may still be unwrapped – https://mywordinyourear.com/2020/12/25/get-real-man-the-christmas-gift/

Christmas Greetings to all and enjoy your time with family and friends.

The King and I – meeting notable people

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Richard, Richard … where have you been
      I’ve been to the War Memorial to visit the King, and the Queen
Richard, Richard … what did you there
                 I told the King to respect his fair hair
                                         … for I think a hat should surely be seen

Context …

Sometimes there is a chance of coming in contact with notable people whether royalty, politicians, popstars or actors. Maybe for a fleeting moment of course. I did get the chance to see King Charles III and Queen Camilla when they made a one-day visit to Canberra last week. I took the above photograph when the royal couple came out of the Australian War Memorial and took time out to greet some of the well-wishers who had gathered for the occasion. He spoke to the fellow next to me before moving on.

King Charles seemed in a good mood he undoubtedly has a sense of humour. I think he is a bit philosophical at being in the role of King. Making the most of it I guess, not an enviable job.

The Pussycat was very kind to the Queen in trying to chase-off a mouse that had frequented the Palace. I was only trying to give the King some helpful advice to protect himself. The spring sunshine on the day was quite intense, a little different from England I might add.

Anointing Ann Anonymous – leaving words

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Anointing Ann Anonymous
when she was a child
and she was quite sure
that no one was looking
she picked up a stick
to scratch in concrete
                          ‘I was here’
each day
as she walked to school
she would see her work
and laugh to herself
no one would know it was her
in her teenager years
she had that teenage crush
and melting against his name
cleared the dust on his car
with words that only she could write
                                     ‘I love you’
She thought he really knew
but she would never tell,
in later years
when thinking about him
she would laugh inside
with a little embarrassment
she had a long and ordinary life
a husband, children
and memories to drown
and if she could paint the sky
these would be her words
                                       ‘life is beautiful’
before she died
and with a knowing smile
she left these words
especially for you …

          ‘I was here
                  I love you
                      life is beautiful’
© Ann Anonymous

The following poem was included in a Yass Valley Writers anthology … Voices From the Valley.

I wanted to honour those that are not writers and have no prominent life in connection with using words, hence the title. Choice words are usually expressed by everybody at various critical times in the progression of life.

It does allude to consider what important words have been part of your life. And generally, if indeed words are important to you, what words would you like to leave behind? And what words do you think others remember you by. I still hear words my parents frequently used when I was growing up. And friends are often known by certain words they repeatedly use. To use the current vernacular enjoy your life today!



Another uncomfortable visit

richinaword My Poems Tags: , , , 1 Comment 
Another uncomfortable visit

why do they do it
everything named bolded in large font
yes, he is sitting in the LOUNGE
and yes, I do know he is JOHN
for the last two years unknown to self
well, he maybe JOHN to someone else
the body that must be fed
the body that must be clean
the body that must be monitored
the JOHN that provides an income
John this is Peter, you remember me
PETER it doesn’t matter how big the font
or if I raise my voice, he doesn’t remember
and never will I guess, we played tennis
together for many years, invincible at doubles
John and Peter champions
but he is focused on the electronic screen
I don’t know why they have it on all the time
at least it’s muted …
SILENCE.
I always have my eye on the CLOCK
the minutes that are hours
and I can’t wait to escape
to go to the exit
the exit that is not obvious
the exit that they can never find
locked forever on the inside
and then into fresh air, and let John
flood back in memory
another uncomfortable visit
 Richard Scutter