I turn my back on killings and maimings
invasions and corruptions
recessions and depressions.
I turn my back on the evening news
leave the living-room
escape to my books
where I bury my head.
Yet I listen to news, read papers and journals
make my own pictures of turmoil until
the optimist in me quails
folds her eyes shut, covers her ears
commands me to bury my head
in my books.
© Liz McQuilkin
Tasmanian Times Poetry Editor.
Tasmanian poets or those with a Tasmanian link are invited to send up to 5 poems which have not appeared previously in print or electronic media to:
For the complete collection, click here: Poetry, Peter Macrow
Call me a coward, I’d rather not watch
visuals of violence, dispatches of sadness.