Tag: reflection

WHO’S THE BOSS?

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Am constantly amazed (read: embarrassed) how, before I know it, I’m once again being mastered by my machines. Scrolling on my phone: it feels like five minutes – it’s thirty. A lovely pile of books waiting to be read – I pick up my phone again. Emails waiting to be written – I get sucked down the latest online controversy rabbit hole.

The poem below was written years ago, but feels a hundred times more relevant today, for me at least. That’s probably partly because I’m a slow learner, but I wonder if it’s also because our machines, and the people behind them, are becoming more efficient, more cunning and greedy in keeping our attention. 

Here’s my latest combat strategy: Just as I regularly update the apps on my phone, I also need to regularly update my brain, like having a personal ‘brain alert app’, a YOU-ARE-CURRENTLY-BEING-MASTERED-BY-A-MACHINE one.

I’ll let you know how I get on.

PRAYING AN OBITUARY (FOR HUMANITY) WON’T BE NECESSARY                                                                   

man by machines mesmerized 

by device seduced

we scare ourselves witless 

likes shares 

shape our souls 

propaganda run rampant 

half-boiled frogs we haven’t a clue 

a kid with a Tesla & no idea 

where the brakes are 

please God we figure it out 

or step away from the vehicle 

before we’re 

cooked

heaven hear our cry 

grant us the grit to grasp 

are we mastering the mechanics 

of enslavement to our gadgets 

or mutating 

into some kind of 

zombie 

   amphibian

From poetry collection ‘Dear Planet’, published by Fidessa Literary in July 2025. (First shared on Rattlecast’s Open Mic in December, 2022.)

Photo: a beautiful, healthy (uncooked) Common Tree Frog (Polypedates leucomystax).

A POEM: PUFF

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With the all the bluster and the clamour from those in power, it might be easy to forget that these ‘men are but mortal and will surely fade as grass’ (from hymn by Johann Georg Albinus). Our mortality is ultimately an epic fact of life; rather than that triggering more frenetic shouting and sabre-rattling, shouldn’t it be inspiring more humility and curiosity? 

PUFF                     

“… dictators die, and the power they took from the people will return to the people.” 

– The Great Dictator 

acrid breath

of old age

elbows 

of schoolboy thuggery

only lines short

lines small circle

of nose

no depth

two dimensional

no-man

one breath

stirs dust

you’re gone

& no 

make-believe

imperial gown

will save you

now

From poetry collection ‘Dear Planet’, published by Fidessa Literary, July 2025.

STARTLED AWAKE 

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Are you ever startled by beauty, catching sight of something unexpected in nature? It might be the smallest of things (Forget-Me-Nots), or the biggest (this morning’s sunrise), but it can feel like being nudged awake – jolted even – out of the brain benumbing inertia of screen addiction.

A cardinal beetle once did something like that for me, and in thanks, I wrote the following:

ODE TO AN INSECT

such sophistication of red
encasing wings of silk 
symmetry of black
antenna curve of antler
jet ivory of elk 

drinking in the sight of you

full-bodied delicacy
tracing your lines 

of majesty 

love calls to love
& echoes through
our atoms

From poetry collection ‘Dear Planet’, published by Fidessa Literary, July 2025.

PIGLET DOESN’T ALWAYS HAVE TO BE A COWARD

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“So deeply admire anyone involved in conflict resolution, especially as I can be hugely conflict avoidant. Poetry has been my compassionate therapist, my Pooh Bear, coaxing me into an understanding of how I got here: why my instincts are to hide at the faintest whiff of conflict. And the truth sets us free. Piglet doesn’t always have to be a coward.”

The above paragraph was my response to a prompt question, “How can you think about conflict in your life through the lens of poetry?” Each Sunday Pádraig Ó Tuama posts a deeply reflective piece on his wonderful Poetry Unbound Substack (poetryunbound.substack.com), always including a thought-provoking question, which is inevitably hard to resist. 

Writing the poem below has been part of my process – recognising where certain fears came from (and why standing at the sink, washing the dishes is a favourite place). 

Sometimes it’s only once we understand where we actually are, that we can truly start to move on…

AFTER DINNER MINTS


Sky rent in two 

falling between 

soles finding ground 

I take my stand in silence.

She hurt beyond betrayal 

he haunted and subdued 

chasms ripple them apart 

pernicious waves of white noise.

History layering upon

itself, unpeeling one from 

another, an After Eights messy matter. 

No wonder I seek sanctuary 

in soap suds and greasy dishes 

while fault lines re-form 

I mask my aftershocks 

my crumbling.

From poetry collection ‘Dear Planet’, published by Fidessa Literary, July 2025.

poem: Morning Chorus

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Dear calico she does her daily mee-yowll,

a post-breakfast roaring lioness, beagle 

grunts & groans in doggy joy of back roll 

& squirm, sparrows & roosters, doves & 

orioles enchant this first coffee with chirps 

& crows, coos & cries, while I, tapping out 

these words on my phone, vowels rolling over 

tongue, all such music not only for ourselves,

for the ecstasy of stretch, but also some sacred 

task, heralding one to another: We Are Here!

First published in Honeyguide Literary Magazine, October 2023: https://www.honeyguidemag.com/morning-chorus-ann-van-wijgerden?fbclid=IwAR3sfU3C9_kp-u6YEbcy3y2wiSodu_PlfEdrHydbb5MosCFsCVl2oW2VVLE