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ASF Poetry Thread

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CO2, PLANT FOOD OR CACTUS FOOD?

if we all drive giant autos (while we opiate with bongs)
as we sit around some carcass (and we sing our desert songs)
and if co2 is plant food round the oxen’s rotting hide
are those plants (like us) praps cactus?, (due to car-bong-die-ox-hide?)
 
HOW GRANMA WOULD HALF-STING THE BEANS

I used to stay with granma when a bench-high lad and young
she'd gone a little gargar and her best songs were all sung
I remember how she'd string the beans (leaving most still highly strung)
and she'd do the dishes, - I would wipe - where the gravy still half-clung.

she'd tell me stories old and wise, and plenty full of action
cos granpa gave her many highs, and close to needing traction
there could have been a few white lies, for she told a story well
me a wide eyed kid like apple pies - and totally under her spell.

how the horses bolted , she alone with reins to help (somehow?)
the dray was jumping stumps and roots like a half crazed stumpjump plough
how granpa'd mount the nearest horse and gallop to her rescue
(I remember my gramps as an old frail man - how cruel is age I ask you?)

she'd sing me songs with spice or fun, or tell some Tennyson poem
she'd help me write a letter or a birthday card to home
to tell my mom I loved her, of the crows my shanghai scored
or scribble lines that sorta rhymed, and anything but bored.

I used to stay with granma when a bench-high lad and young
she sowed the seeds of learning and the noble English tongue
the sowed the seeds of lullabies and other songs she sung
......
but she sure as hell scared witness those poor beans she served half-strung ;)

more on the same subject

https://www.aussiestockforums.com/forums/showthread.php?p=83019&highlight=petticoat#post83019
 
(happy new year's resolutions ;)
and happy imminent birthday to those folk born on 29 feb)

TRY A LEAP INTO THE LEAP YEAR ;)

If you’re starting out a new year
(if you’ve been there you will know)
it is customary to implant in your ears
those grains that you should sow,
you should plant the seeds of exercise
no pain, no sprain, no gain
and you scrawl it – big words- textasize
that to grow, you just "go with the grain".

Let's plan to hum to a new years hymn
let's start to march by March
by june we'll be ready to tackle some gym
where they make you leap an’ arch
they recommend beans , and grain fed game
and wild organic papayas
by the time Beijing has lit its flame
....
we’ll be up there on the dias !!! ;)
 
http://www.abc.net.au/news/stories/2007/12/27/2127754.htm
Moti fights deportation to Aust: authorities
http://www.brisbanetimes.com.au/new...speeding-ticket/2007/12/10/1197135337833.html
Former judge 'lied under oath' over speeding ticket

SOME NOTES ON JUSTICE

In theory she’s a lady blind, who holds a pair of scales
she’s fair (instead of cruel or kind), she knows not “heads or tails”
she sees not where the balance in lined, she reads the decision with brail
and it’s either she let’s you off (praps a fine), or she kicks your butt into jail
……
but with judges like Marcus Einfeld, sheesh, he’d pin donkey’s nose with tail.

of course if it then gets reheard on appeal, it’s amazing how often she swings
the scales must take on a different feel, praps it’s just the way of these things
a barrister bellowing “c’mon !! get real!!”, who charges the ransom of kings
is somehow more likely to get a good deal, without those judicial strings.
……
and even attornies general steal – and julian motti’s have “flings”.


I’m sure she would add that she finds it hard, when it’s “paybacks” she has to defend
yet she mustn’t relax or lower her guard, on which message she still has to send
I’m sure she would add that it disappoints, when a sin goes against a trend
or a man may be cowered on bent knee joints, but that doesn’t mean justice must bend
……
she must stick to her game, make her own set points, trust the common folk comprehend.


when a nurse is charged with a speeding offence on route to an injured child
when a boy is charged for stealing ten cents when he’s hungry – that too is quite mild
but what about Hurricane Katrina my friend, where two starving men fight for some food?
and one thieves from the other ? - WHERE THE HELL WAS BIG BROTHER!! – since the rescue was totally screwed.
........
and for all those murders over food in flood waters, praps the Whitehouse should be the one sued.?
 
http://www.abc.net.au/news/stories/2007/12/16/2120080.htm
Cricket makes emotional return to tsunami-hit stadium
Posted Sun Dec 16, 2007 5:22pm AEDT

England and Sri Lanka will mark one of cricket's most poignant moments when they contest the third Test at the previously tsunami-ravaged Galle International Stadium on Tuesday.

The stadium, situated close to the Indian Ocean in the country's coastal south, was destroyed by the Asian tsunami in 2004, which killed an estimated 300,000 people in a dozen countries....
Click to expand...

THIRD ANNIVERSARY OF ASIAN TSUNAMI

Only those who've seen a battefield - dank, dark, and drowned in gore,
could claim they understand the feel of a post-tsunami shore,
where the land and sea fought battle, over boundaries between,
.......
now the cricket bails can rattle, by 300,000 seen
.........
in the open air, so the ghosts can stare,
and the land now all grassy and green. :eek: :2twocents
 
BLUE ROSES (I suspect Kipling)

Roses red and roses white
Plucked I for my love’s delight.
She would none of all my posies,—
Bade me gather her blue roses.

Half the world I wandered through,
Seeking where such flowers grew;
Half the world unto my quest
Answered but with laugh and jest.

It may be beyond the grave
She shall find what she would have.
Oh, ’twas but an idle quest,—
Roses white and red are best!

http://whitewolf.newcastle.edu.au/w...dyard/prose/TheLightThatFailed/chapter_7.html
 
THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO SOCCER, BASEBALL, PRE-BODY-LINE-CRICKET, and EXTREMISM

PART 1

It seems to me…..mankind’s ……..divided in 4
there’s soccer,…. there’s baseball …….there’s cricket,
and then there’s that group where the rules are ignored
“who cares that’s not cricket, just stick it!”

As for baseball – methinks, whoever heard ethics
like “that’s just not baseball there, son"
and likewise in soccer, a "dive" wins an Oscar
but you laugh cos you’ve cheated and won.

A smile from a player who gets off the mat
after having a free kick awarded
should be given a pat on the bum with a bat
after which he’d be hung drawn and quartered.

Though cricket has spread through the Empire of old
on steamers canoes and been portered
I still prefer cricket balls flying around
than smart bombs by dumb bums (or mortared).

A baseball that’s pinged at the head of some “mate”
so he staggers to dugout escorted
and a pitched bruise sure stings while you’re standing at plate
(that’s body-line as Jardine taught it),

but ignoring that body line, cricket at least
taught that “fair-play” was moral , and sought it,
and at least it’s not “body lines” where wild warring beasts
have gone mad and where hundreds are slaughtered :2twocents

PART 2

They say that the old British Empire,
even prior to Waterloo
expanded like red-coated vampires
with a pint of red corps blood or two
but it couldn’t reside in Afghanistan
or the line there it seems couldn’t hold
now the tide of a Taliban Koran
on an out-tide would turn your blood cold.

The Russians took Kabul “Kaboom”,
The Taliban soon got it back
and turned the soccer pitch to a tomb,
with the goal mouth a hanging rack,
there’s something they just don’t understand
how best to curve a round ball
they prefer to cheer , and to rise to a man,
when they curve someone’s neck in a fall. :(

Does it help that the law and the British ways
have been pretty much ripped from the book
though I spose to be fair in O-Cromwell’s days
it was “Lord Protect rules that I’ve cooked”
Does it help that the despots become more , more, MORE
more desperate, demanding and cunning
and sure they’ll permit an election in store
......
as long as there’s no one else running. :eek:
 
A PHANTOM NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTION

I notice that it's new years eve (well give or take a day)
so here's to resolutions (to adhere to "come what may")
I'm thinking of a "Phantom promise" - backing off the grog
and I'm practicing "glass of milk please - and some water for my dog".

I understand it's best to know karate drinking milk
there's ruffians and crooks to throw and people of that ilk
cos people don't like wimps who don't drink booze (till they're obese)
I'll maybe get two dogs or three - so then I can drink in peace.

This Ghost Who Walks 400 years as "Man who Cannot Die"
well stuff it, I'll give up my beers - then maybe so will I
I'll be "Guardian of the Eastern Dark", (and my pigmy bankers will cheer)
but the price of milk!! - compared to home brew!! - mmm maybe wait a year.

"Ghost Who Walks Will Never Die": The Phantom's First 400 Years.
Before Batman, before The Shadow, before The Green Hornet, before The Lone Ranger, the comics' first masked mystery-man hero had long since been striking fear into the dark hearts of the wicked.

Indeed, by the time the world-famous adventures of The Phantom were first recorded in print more than six decades ago, the grim champion of justice had already been around for nearly 400 years.

Such is the riveting, myth-freighted legend of The Phantom -- "The Ghost Who Walks," "The Man Who Cannot Die," "The Guardian of the Eastern Dark." In the beginning he had been a half-drowned sailor, flung ashore on the terrible, blood-drenched Bengalla coast after pirates burned his ship and slaughtered his mates. The gentle Bandar pygmies, taking him to be a sea god of ancient prophecy, nursed him back to fitness and became his everlasting friends -- as the castaway faced his destiny, donned costume and mask and was reborn as the first of the Phantoms, scourge of predators everywhere.

"I swear to devote my life to the destruction of piracy, greed, cruelty and injustice!" he cried as he formally took "The Oath of the Skull" by firelight. "And my sons and their sons shall follow me!"

And in time there was a son. In time that son begat another, and thereafter that son begat again. After a while, there arose a dynasty of Phantoms, one after another, born into the legend then reared and rigorously drilled in the disciplines and the duties.

Through the generations these eerily identical jungle lords have prowled an evil world in the cloaks of many identities, and none today but the Bandar and a handful of other secret souls know that all are not one and the same.

The modern Phantom is the 21st of the line. Since Feb. 17, 1936, he has been the law in his dangerous part of the world, a one-man police force, a silent avenger who appears and vanishes like lightning. His home is the fearsome "Skull Cave," deep in the heart of his jungle. His only intimates have been the faithful Bandar, his great white horse Hero, his savage gray wolf Devil, and his lovely American sweetheart Diana Palmer. Even the men of the Jungle Patrol, the paramilitary peacekeeping squad an ancestor had organized some years ago, have never seen the face of their mysterious commander in chief.

From thieves and smugglers to cut-throat harbor rats to crazed dictators seeking to enslave free men, all have met the Phantom over 60 thrilling years, and all have tasted his wrath. Always changing with the whirlwind times around him, he has increasingly come to function as something of a United Nations troubleshooter-at-large, a shadowy trench-coated figure slipping in and out of modern Third World political intrigue.

But never far from the Phantom's stage are the great emperors and brigands of yore, in the shining tales of his 20 heroic forebears, recounted in the epic Phantom Chronicles. In more than 60 years of daily newspaper stories and 58 years of Sunday-only yarns, "Phantom" creator Lee Falk has meticulously fleshed out the most minute details of a fabulous dynastic pageant, illuminating the lives of the Phantoms of old whose blood courses through the veins of the modern Ghost Who Walks. Many of them have swashbuckled their way through the famous newspaper comic strip in grand flashback sequences -- one early Phantom is known to have married Christopher Columbus' granddaughter; another is known to have married Shakespeare's niece; still another took a Mongol princess as his bride.

The fifth Phantom crossed swords with the pirate Blackbeard in the early 1600s. The 13th Phantom traveled to the young United States and fought alongside Jean Lafitte in the War of 1812. The 16th appears to have put in some time as a Wild West cowboy.

And succession is assured.

The current Phantom and Diana Palmer were wed in 1977, and today their scrappy young son, Kit, is in training to someday take the sacred "Oath of the Skull" and become the 22nd Phantom. (Phantom 2040, the futuristic television series that in 1994 spun off from Lee Falk's classic comic-strip legend, posits a 24th Phantom, apparently Kit's grandson.)
Click to expand...
 

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GOOD ENOUGH TO FIGHT OUR BATTLES, STOLEN KIDS - ALL's FAIR IN WAR

Good enough to fight our battles
good enough help win our wars
then they want the rank of cattle
we reply please show us cause,
fight for Empire, Queen, Tobruk
good enough to leave our shore
having their loved children took
- to white man claims “all’s fair in war”.

Good enough to lead a company
Captain Saunders loved by all
leading white men, fifty something
“follow me boys” was his call
good enough to risk his noggin
leading fifty into wars
when demobbed – “go feed the dogs and
here’s your broom and here’s your chores”

Down the gangplank, celebrations,
thirsty tales, homecoming jars,
“hey not you, your pigmentations
no way you can breast our bars”,
Settlement grants for postwar soldiers
carved from prewar Ab reserves son,
but those Abs from whom those boulders
had been stolen didn’t deserve one.

Torres Strait indigenous ranks true
paid but one third army wage,
that’s until a belated thank you
and forty years they had to age,
Three, four thousand so affected
served, dependents, widows, vets
history (40 years) corrected
justice means we pay our debts.


Capt Reg Saunders ...
http://www.awm.gov.au/korea/faces/saunders/saunders.htm
http://www.awm.gov.au/fiftyaustralians/43.asp

When he came back, albeit a hero of the war, and leader of men, he was subjected to the full racial discrimination thing - for a while he swept railway stations

When they disembarked after the war , the Abs were not allowed into the bar to share a drink with their white soldier mates.
When they came back they were still not included on the census - although cattle were.
Many lied about their age to get in the army - and/ or said they were Maoris or Indians.
In one case, the Ab reserve belonging to either Saunders or Peters was taken and divvied up for Soldier Settlement Grants - "Black soldiers need not apply".
In the Torres Strait, there were soldiers hept there in reserve. Indeed the Japs didn't reach them , but they nonetheless served there ( as did thousands in Darwin) . Only difference was the blacks in Torres Strait were paid about one third army wage - this injustice was corrected in the 1980's.
Having said that 3000 - 4000 vets and/or dependents should be entitled to benefits. (for equality with others). THis is an ongoing issue that could well be resolved soon.

The children of some Ab soldiers on active service were stolen under stolen generation rules. :(
Captain Reg Saunders
“Reg Saunders was one of the best company commanders I had served under and he was admired by the company as an excellent leader.”..Private Joe Vezgoff

Many Aboriginal Australians have been a part of the Australian armed forces since the Boer War. Although not permitted to become Australian citizens until 1968, service in the armed forces was one area where Aborigines experienced less discrimination than in the wider Australian society. Captain Reg Saunders, MBE, is perhaps Australia's best known Aboriginal soldier, being the first indigenous Australian to be commissioned as an officer into the Australian Army, in 1945. In Korea, he served as Officer Commanding, C Company, 3 RAR.

“Saunders quickly established himself and won wide respect for his abilities as a platoon commander, particularly for his determination when leading patrols far from the battalion's main position.”

Robert O'Neill, Official Historian of Australia in the Korean War

Reg Saunders was born in 1920, in Purnum, Victoria, near the Framlingham Aboriginal Reserve. He came from a long line of soldiers. Both his father and his uncle served in the First World War. His uncle, Reg Rawlings, for whom he was named, received a Military Medal for action at Morlancourt Ridge, France. Rawlings was killed in action at Vauvillers, in 1918.

In the Second World War, Reg Saunders and his brother Harry both served in the army. Harry was killed in action in New Guinea. Reg was shot in the knee in a separate action, but returned to the 2/7th Infantry Battalion after his recovery.

When he joined up again for service in Korea, Reg led his company through fierce fighting, including the battle at Kapyong in April 1951. He was the first Aboriginal serviceman to command a rifle company, and was respected and popular with his men. His biographer and friend, Harry Gordon, an Australian journalist in Korea, wrote of him:

“He was accepted unreservedly by the men who served with him because false values do not flourish among front-line soldiers.”

Reg Saunders commented:

“The Americans had negro officers, but they handled negro troops. Sometimes it was suggested to me that Australia should have its own Aboriginal battalion. I'm dead against the idea … it would mean a line of demarcation - a separateness. They would be treated as something apart, and that would be bad.”

After service in Korea, Saunders remained in the regular army for a year before resigning his commission. Returning to civilian life proved a difficult transition. Having been accustomed to leading others in difficult and dangerous situations, and to being a respected and admired officer, when he returned to Australian society he faced discrimination; his qualities as leader went unappreciated. After years of difficulty, he had a successful career working for the Aboriginal Affairs Office and later at the Department of Aboriginal Affairs. He died in 1990.

Cecil Fisher was another Aboriginal Australian who fought in Korea, joining up at the age of 18 years and 10 months to serve with 2 RAR. His poem, “Black ANZAC”, draws on his experiences in the Korean War.
Click to expand...
 
continuing ... http://www.awm.gov.au/korea/faces/saunders/saunders.htm
Black ANZAC , by Cecil Fisher, another Aboriginal Australian in Korea

They have forgotten him, need him no more
He who fought for his land in nearly every war
Tribal fights before his country was taken by Captain Cook
Then went overseas to fight at Gallipoli and Tobruk

World War One two black Anzacs were there
France, Europe's desert, New Guinea's jungles, did his share
Korea, Malaya, Vietnam again black soldier enlisted
Fight for democracy was his duty he insisted

Back home went his own way not looking for praise
Like when he was a warrior in the forgotten days
Down on the Gold Coast a monument in the Bora Ring
Recognition at last his praises they are starting to sing

This black soldier who never marches on ANZAC Day
Living in his Gunya doesn't have much to say
Thinks of his friends who fought some returned some died
If only one day they could march together side by side

His medals he keeps hidden away from prying eyes
No one knows, no one sees the tears in his old black eyes
He's been outcast just left by himself to die
Recognition at last black ANZAC hold your head high

Every year at Gold Coast's Yegumbah Bora Ring site
Black ANZAC in uniform and medals a magnificent sight
The rock with Aboriginal tribal totems paintings inset
The Kombumerri people's inscription of LEST WE FORGET
Click to expand...
 
THE ROSEBED AT THE AIRPORT

My mate works at the airport
with a mop to dry the floors,
He finds there's equal floods of tears
at arrival and departure doors,
He keeps the teardrops separate
and he waters the roses outside,
and they bloom red and blue respectively
.....
- like emotions that loved ones have cried. :eek: :(
 
2020hindsight said:
THE ROSEBED AT THE AIRPORT

My mate works at the airport
with a mop to dry the floors,
He finds there's equal floods of tears
at arrival and departure doors,
He keeps the teardrops separate
and he waters the roses outside,
and they bloom red and blue respectively
.....
- like emotions that loved ones have cried. :eek: :(
Click to expand...
Gee mum, but you look so sweet and cute
with your mascara starting to flow,
I'm in need of a prop, not a blubbering flute
or a prop from a Rocky Horror show,
Here's a token to symbolise "love o'er the waves"
a georgeously pure (dropdead) rosebud
sown and grown on the tears from ten Mabels and Daves
in that tearshed, mopfed, rosebed.

(groan :rolleyes:)
 
(speaking of groan, here's another ..)

THE CALL OF THE WILD – DOGS AND OLD CHIMPS ALIKE

my dog sings along with the siren’s plight
does she think it’s a call from the pack ?
a threat that requires either fight or flight
or some terror is on the attack?
now the strange thing is, she is wagging her tail
and I’m talking a half circle ark ! - ;)
I reckon she'd bark "it’s just time for a wail
or a whale of a time for a lark". ;)

Now, apart from the fact that I pine for the sea
with the pangs of a homesick child,
Or I look at a forest or climb up a tree
and I’m gripped with some “call of the wild”,
from somewhere the stub of some long lost “thing”
some unfinished tale (tail) of the free,
Like Tarzan, I feel the desire for a fling
in my Mazda tree-to-tree (323). :eek:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coccyx
The coccyx (pronounced kok-siks) (Latin: os coccygis), commonly referred to as the tailbone, is the final segment of the human vertebral column. Comprising four fused vertebrae (the coccygeal vertebrae) below the sacrum, it is attached to the sacrum by a fibrocartilaginous joint, which permits limited movement between the sacrum and the coccyx. The term coccyx comes originally from the Greek language and means "cuckoo," referring to the shape of a cuckoo's beak[1].
Click to expand...

Thought for the day .... does that mean that when God gave Adam (and Eve) their coccyx-es, that he added a bit of "cuckoo"?
 
THis post on the new year resolutions thread...
Doris said:
Failing to plan is planning to fail. But you MUST wanna do it! :)

And you've got to be positive.
Click to expand...
thanks Doris
just taking those two thoughts, combining them, and running with em ;)

PLANNING AND NEW YEARS RESOLUTIONS...

I don't plan to plan very much,
though I won't plan to fail or fall,
see - I won't plan to succeed as such
...... I just WON'T fail ! - that's my plan ! - thassall !! :2twocents

Unlike Quixote, I won't charge the windmill
and it's not like I'm on the attack
It's just that the retreat plan would be sinful
it's been ripped up !! - miles back the track ;)


PS Like Montgomery - RIP UP THE ALTERNATIVE RETREAT PLAN. lol
 
lol - there's this funny old dude down the road....(call him Fred Smith for this exercise). He shows me this poem and tells me he wrote it for his wife - for the new year....

He are his wife both well into their 80's lol - So he changes one word of this poem by Elizabeth Browning (thee to you) - and claims authorship, lol ;) (although he mentions her, EB in the lesser credits).


HOW DO I LOVE YOU? by Fred Smith, (.........with some assistance from Elizabeth Barrett Browning)

How do I love you? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
Click to expand...

Incidentally, it gets rave reviews on this website ... (whatever ... he's still a funny old dude, and lol - his missus loves him for his eccentric ways)

http://www.cs.rice.edu/~ssiyer/minstrels/poems/269.html
This poem was recently chosen the greatest love poem of all time in a large
readers' poll - not surprisingly, it has found place in nearly all large
anthologies. It formed part of the Elizabeth Barrett Browning's "Sonnets from
the Portuguese", written in her Italian days at the Casa Guidi. It is addressed
to her husband, who used to call her 'My little Portuguese" as she was dark. ...

I think this is the epitome of the love poem - the heart pours out its emotions
in every word. I love the way in which the simple words echo when one reads it aloud, and lines 9-12 are simply sublime. Also, I feel that the conventional
sonnet form has an intrinsic power that lends itself to intense outbursts of
emotion -

for instance, Shakespeare's "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?"
or Keats' "On first looking into Chapman's Homer". But notice how here the form
is subservient to the emotion - one is actually surprised to note how
effortlessly the scansion moves. All in all, a simply marvellous poem.
Click to expand...
 
DAVID HICK'S BLONDE PERIOD

Aged just one score year and six, down the road comes David Hicks
(some might say he's thick as bricks, but that's another matter)
next he's found inside a truck, out of weapons out of luck
fetched the finder many bucks to make him out a ratter..

will another mere Australian, moslem, jew or piscapalian
see a cell where they simply nail-ya-in?
five years ?, - retrospective law?,

sodomised with white plastic bore? left on "a third party unknown shore"
where they make up the rules if they can't be sure? ........
quoth the raven.. "nevermore".
 

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