Today’s poem is about the weird way that society has managed to gender ‘boss energy’ and charisma…aka Big Dick Energy. It is totally ridiculous and redundant…but reflects how easily the ‘otherness’ of people who don’t fit the arbitrary heteronormative, male-centric standards is created. It is applied to almost every aspect of life and results inContinue reading “I really don’t want BDE”
Author Archives: angeletoomey
Friday commute
This poem was written BC (before covid) when I was commuting every day for work on crowded trains and buses. This one was written in the 10 minutes it took me to travel between Petone station and my front gate. https://www.wellingtonnz.com/experience/see-and-do/best-things-to-do-in-petone/ One sided conversation I know about your hopes and dreams Heard the fear inContinue reading “Friday commute”
Middle-aged angst
From my experience so far, middle-aged angst is exactly like teenage angst except it comes with more mortgage, better wine and fewer eyebrows (google it, it’s a menopause thing)…the existential dread is as firm and pert as ever though. Imposter Can I carry this mantle Such great expectations and dreams Could my words really ReachContinue reading “Middle-aged angst”
From words to action
Today’s poem is dragged from the deep recesses of the archive. It was written on a scrap of paper one evening as I was coming home from work on a rickety old diesel bus. In an epiphany earlier that day I had decided to start looking for another job. I had been employed to doContinue reading “From words to action”
Moments of mist
Today’s poems feature a natural phenomena that I find endlessly fascinating…mist. Forest mist is particularly evocative, I love it the water droplets hang like moments held in suspended animation. Drawing back the mist The mist disperses revealing the battle between my dreams and the monsters that lurk in the day light. This next one isContinue reading “Moments of mist”
For ANZAC Day
In the spirit of honesty, I wrote this poem on Remembrance Day, 11 November 2018. World War One: that great war, the war to end all wars. The Second World War: Never again. And then of course came Malaysia, Korea, Borneo, Vietnam, Iraq, Afghanistan, East Timor, ISIL – call them crises, troubles, confrontations, emergencies…and theseContinue reading “For ANZAC Day”
Unattended life administration
This poem is about the secret inner lives of the people we know well. Those hidden aspects that, because of shame, loneliness, fear or anger, people keep to themselves their unfinished life administration tasks. Dripping tapsDo you have a dripping tap?Something that needs attention,resolution, must be done?Is it on the ‘to do list’or implied inContinue reading “Unattended life administration”
What could have been
A short poem about the way that tears can form and what drives them, and the fact that sometimes a person may not be crying but stuff is still happening underneath the surface. That tear That tear could have formed as a slow welling, that grew with my pulse until it spilt over for aContinue reading “What could have been”
La vie numérique
The French language can make almost anything sound romantic and beautiful. Today’s poem was inspired by my working from home experiences of the last 2+ years. The digital lifeSubscribeSubmitSearch Clear settings.Log onLink inLike Factory settings.CookiesClicksCaches Default settings.TikTokTwitterTumblr Universal settings.Delete filesClear historyReboot Digital forgetting.
What happens to old ideas?
Today’s poem is a reflection on some of my best ideas, some of which were shared and others muttered only to myself. Looking back, there will have been thousands of them. Old ideasMy ideas are fallingoff my boneslike rotting flesh.Once beautifully formedthey are nowjust a fetish.Something held longafter I should havelearned to forget.But there theyContinue reading “What happens to old ideas?”
Angele Toomey Poetry 