ASF Poetry Thread

[noirua]

I headed home full of apologies
and I hope you'll let me be free,
locked me up, as innocent as can be,
I'm not leading you up a gum tree.

let you down, thought I'd say
afterall, it was a long stay,
giving it thought, Australia free,
I'm not leading you up a gum tree.

They will let me out, to roam free
gave it my best shot, believe me,
now at home, penitent, happy,
I'm not leading you up a gum tree.

All the same, you cannot be certain
who will bring down the final curtain,
all that matters, I am now free
I'm not leading you up a gum tree.

For the future, they look to me
who I really think, should be free,
my alegance changed, believe me
I'm not leading you up a gum tree.

Maybe, just maybe, it ain't true
I'm just taking you all as fools,
never mind, I'm back and free,
Have I lead you up a gum tree?


Up a gum tree - by noirua

 

[2020hindsight]

lol - cripes but you find some weird stuff on the internet ...

Mark's Contemporary Literature Blog
From Mark Flanagan,
Your Guide to Contemporary Literature.
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Quoth the raven "Nevermore."

Edgar Allen Poe's death in 1849 is a topic still shrouded in mystery. After visiting Virginia as a lecturer, Poe disappeared and was later found in Baltimore, in horrible condition. He died in the hospitable four days later.

100 years afterwards, in 1949, a mysterious figure began marking January 19, Edgar Allen Poe's birthday, by slinking into the Baltimore cemetary where Poe is buried, and leaving French cognac and three roses on his grave in the middle of the night.

http://www.heise.de/ix/raven/Literature/Lore/TheRaven.html

I plead guilty to this bit of multiple plagiarism

QUOTH THE RAVEN , Y'ALL
2020 with assistance from Edgar Allen Poe and Kool Moe Dee

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, tapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `rapping at my chamber door - ??
Only this, and nothing more.

"To the beat y'all, To the beat y'all
To the - to the, To the beat y'all
Ain't nothin but a party, everybody come along
Keep your body movin while I'm groovin with the song
I got funky rhythms, funky rhythms with a beat
Funk-funk-funk-funky rhythms for the street
Keep clappin while I'm rappin, while I'm rappin, clap your hands
To the beat y'all, To the beat y'all
To the - to the, To the beat y'all" :eek3:
........ (etc )
quoth the raven nevermore !!

 

[2020hindsight]

People who see their cup as being half empty CAN be focussing on what they want to fill it and set goals, not just being negative about what they don't have.

People who see their cup as half full can be complacent and not really be grateful for what they have.

HALF A GLASS ACCORDING TO BUDDHA

We either see a glass half filled,
or equally a glass half drained;
the pessimist thinks.. "damn !! drained !! it's spilled !"
the optimist thinks... "dam is filling, - it's rained "

But extremes of spill or constant raining
lead to floods - or nought remaining...
if you turn it on its side (as Bhuddha has showed)
you have yourself - dada - the MIDDLE ROAD!! .

 

[2020hindsight]

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Charge_of_the_Light_Brigade_(poem)

Note:- If you go to that website - you can download Lord Tennyson himself reading that poem

The Charge of the Light Brigade
Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!
"Charge for the guns!" he said:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

"Forward, the Light Brigade!"
Was there a man dismay'd?
Not tho' the soldier knew
Someone had blunder'd:
Their's not to make reply,
Their's not to reason why,
Their's but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the six hundred.

Flash'd all their sabres bare,
Flash'd as they turn'd in air,
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army, while
All the world wonder'd:
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right thro' the line they broke;
Cossack and Russian
Reel'd from the sabre stroke
Shatter'd and sunder'd.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro' the jaws of Death
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.

When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wondered.
Honor the charge they made,
Honor the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred.

 

[2020hindsight]

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Last_of_the_Light_Brigade

The Last of the Light Brigade is a poem written in 1891 by Rudyard Kipling echoing - forty years after the event - Alfred Tennyson's famous poem The Charge of the Light Brigade. Exploying synecdoche, Kipling uses his poem to expose the terrible hardship faced in old age by veterans of the Crimean War, as exemplified by the cavalry men of the Light Brigade

The Last of the Light Brigade
-- Rudyard Kipling

There were thirty million English who talked of England's might,
There were twenty broken troopers who lacked a bed for the night.
They had neither food nor money, they had neither service nor trade;
They were only shiftless soldiers, the last of the Light Brigade.

They felt that life was fleeting; they knew not that art was long,
That though they were dying of famine, they lived in deathless song.
They asked for a little money to keep the wolf from the door;
And the thirty million English sent twenty pounds and four!

They laid their heads together that were scarred and lined and grey;
Keen were the Russian sabres, but want was keener than they;
And an old Troop-Sergeant muttered, "Let us go to the man who writes
The things on Balaclava the kiddies at school recites."

They went without bands or colours, a regiment ten-file strong,
To look for the Master-singer who had crowned them all in his song;
And, waiting his servant's order, by the garden gate they stayed,
A desolate little cluster, the last of the Light Brigade.

They strove to stand to attention, to straighten the toil-bowed back;
They drilled on an empty stomach, the loose-knit files fell slack;
With stooping of weary shoulders, in garments tattered and frayed,
They shambled into his presence, the last of the Light Brigade.

The old Troop-Sergeant was spokesman, and "Beggin' your pardon," he said,
"You wrote o' the Light Brigade, sir. Here's all that isn't dead.
An' it's all come true what you wrote, sir, regardin' the mouth of hell;
For we're all of us nigh to the workhouse, an, we thought we'd call an' tell.

"No, thank you, we don't want food, sir; but couldn't you take an' write
A sort of 'to be continued' and 'see next page' o' the fight?
We think that someone has blundered, an' couldn't you tell 'em how?
You wrote we were heroes once, sir. Please, write we are starving now."

The poor little army departed, limping and lean and forlorn.
And the heart of the Master-singer grew hot with "the scorn of scorn."
And he wrote for them wonderful verses that swept the land like flame,
Till the fatted souls of the English were scourged with the thing called Shame.

O thirty million English that babble of England's might,
Behold there are twenty heroes who lack their food to-night;
Our children's children are lisping to "honour the charge they made-"
And we leave to the streets and the workhouse the charge of the Light Brigade!


(some things, proper treatment of vets after the war, etc, never change )
As for the charge itself ....

http://www.geocities.com/johnhussey1@btinternet.com/woolton.htm
The French General Bosquet watching from the heights remarked in wonderment ;

"It is magnificent but it is not war. It is madness".

Travelling faster and faster as they neared their objective the cavalry charged as it reached the Russian guns and was met with a stunning cannonade which all but destroyed the front-line. The momentum of the charge carried the remainder of the horsemen into the guns, where the Russian gunners were cut down and their guns spiked and for a short period of time the British held the field. In many ways, the attack was similar to the fatal charge of the Union and Household Brigades at Waterloo and just as at Waterloo, the British cavalry found themselves stranded and surrounded by an enemy which had quickly regrouped. There was no choice but to retreat and the survivors frantically trying to get back to their lines were fired on from three sides as they raced away from the ruined Russian battery.

Out of an initial 600 who charged down the valley that day a mere 195 answered the roll-call ...

 

[2020hindsight]

http://www.geocities.com/johnhussey1@btinternet.com/woolton.htm

James Glanister (one of the Light Horse Brigade)

Although not strictly speaking a Liverpudlian, having been born in Northamptonshire, James Glanister enlisted in Liverpool as a Private in the 5th Dragoons. At Balaclava, he reached the Russian guns and broke his sword upon the helmet of a Russian soldier. A Cossack then fired his pistol at Glanister, shattering his jaw. He was assisted back to the safety of the British lines by a Private Martin and later invalided out of the army later settling down in West Derby where he died in 1901 at his home in No 3 Apple Terrace. Buried in West Derby cemetery, his grave number is C of E, section 5, grave no. 193.

Robert Martin (one of the Light Horse Brigade - rescues Glanister)

The bullet that hit Glanister narrowly missed Private Martin who despite his own arm being shattered helped Glanister back to the lines. But Martin was struck by another bullet and was lucky to escape with his life. He did lose his arm which was amputated at the Scutari hospital where Florence Nightingale plied her trade so well.

On his return home with a cluster of medals, the Liverpool M.P. Mr Horsefall helped him to gain employment at Hampton Court Palace where he also was received by Queen Victoria and Prince Albert. On his retirement he went to live in New Ferry on the Wirral and in his final days was taken to the Liverpool Royal Infirmary where he died in 1900. He was buried in Bebington cemetery --- also in a numbered grave.

There were several others who lost their lives at Balaclava but they are fast fading back into the obscurity they lived in until they took their places in the historic charge.

Botanic Park was once one of the finest gardens in the country and at the Picton Road entrance there stood two Russian cannon from the Crimea. It is an irony that having been taken away during the Second World War they were melted down to create armament and that somewhere over Europe in 1945, metal from the 1856 conflict would still be lethally dangerous.

BALACLAVA VETS, after 5 mins, then 45 years on.

Glanister old mate - jump up on my horse
did you think I would leave you to die
excuse all the blood but it could have been worse
it's only my arm not my eye,

rats
there goes another - thanks god we're back brother
two bullets are all I can handle
Lord Cardigan's "campaign" - now he's drinking his champagne
(that stupid old fart is a scandal ! )

gee there's Florence Nightgale, after the fighting's wail
walks through the wounded and dying
my arm they have taken, her lamp shows me shaking
at least she's a honey for trying

they'll bury us mate by some cemetery gate
some day when our numbers are up
let's exchange our grave numbers, before our last slumbers
and we'll once again see death closeup.

 

[2020hindsight]

Ode to an opalised ammonite fossil

artifact from a long distant dream time -
you have taken an eon to form
while mankind (stupid fools) in the meantime
rush about - like a leaf in a storm

beware little ammonite fossil
man is not necessarily friend
in our energy fires quite collosal
your brothers help fuel our fool's end

 

[2020hindsight]

sorry folk - but (speaking of shells) here's a repost of Pam Ayres Clamp the Mighty Limpet
https://www.aussiestockforums.com/forums/showthread.php?p=195759&highlight=limpet#post195759

http://www.bbc.co.uk/nature/blueplanet/factfiles/molluscs/limpet_bg.shtml

Habitat
Limpets are abundant on rocky shores, where they attach to rocks or other hard substrates.

Diet
Limpets are herbivores, grazing on the thin form of algae that forms on rocks and weed. They will also graze on settling larvae if small enough to eat.

Behaviour
Adult limpets usually return to the same area of rock after feeding. They form a small depression, known as a scar, by rubbing against the rock. This scar ensures a tighter fit for the shell, helping the limpet avoid desiccation.
Limpets are active foragers and wander around the rocks when the tide is in. They use chemical cues to follow their own mucus track back to their home point. They sometimes use the edge of the shell like a bulldozer to scrape away at rocks and algae.

How's this for a confusing sexlife...

Reproduction
Limpets are hermaphrodites (producing both male and female reproductive cells) and undergo sex change during life. They mature as males at about 9 months of age, but after a couple of years they change sex to become female.

Spawning occurs once a year, usually during winter, and is triggered by rough seas which disperse the eggs and sperm. Larvae are pelagic for a couple of weeks before settling onto a hard substrate.

 

[noirua]

If you'r short it's not your fault,
If you'r tall, you'r not a fool,
If you'r fat, well, that is that,
If you'r thin, that's fault of kin.

Never mind, we're of a kind,
Ne'er blame yourself or else
be unhappy, that's not the way,
carry on your way, and you'll pay.

Pay! Indeed you must, if indeed,
you can change the way you feed,
the way I feed in quantity, or is it
not, what it is, yes! And you'll pay.

Change our ways, indeed we must,
happiness is not so big to bust,
Yes! No! Don't care? Be fair today,
Do not, I fear, yes indeed, we'll pay.

Take action and do not pay - noirua

 

[2020hindsight]

RECENT DOWN TRENDS

how to get Down off an elephant's back?
you don't - you get down off a duck
I once bought some Down shares
when the Dow took a smack,
I was hoping that Down would go up;
But the damned price of Down went down with the Dow
and the update is Down won't come back
Down is now down and out, but my ducks anyhow
are upbeating their down and "up-quack"

 

[2020hindsight]

how to get Down off an elephant's back?
you don't - you get down off a duck
I once bought some Down shares
when the Dow took a smack,
I was hoping that Down would go up;
But the damned price of Down went down with the Dow
and the update is Down won't come back
Down is now down and out, but my ducks anyhow
are upbeating their down and "up-quack"

it's a beat up - root for Down
"UP Down , UP Down"
NEWS :- "Down up" !!!

with a
knick knack paddle quack.

That's it - I'm off to mow the lawn

PS It's enough to ..

knick knack paddle quack
give the duck a frown
the up-quack update is
Dow's up - and Down!.

(groan?)

 

[2020hindsight]

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....

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.

might as well throw this in

 

[2020hindsight]

already posted back there , but what the heck...

 

[2020hindsight]

HANDING DOWN ZEN TO THE KIDS

I bought me a book on Buddha and men
and on motorbike bits and the journey
on zig zags and zombies, exams about zen
on LIFE! (and not “Weekends with Bernie”)

I now worship nuts and I’m learning ‘bout air,
things loony tune, lunar and “moo”,
.......
(which I'm told is the answer to “hey were you there
when the cow jumped over the moon?” )

whether breast of a hill or breast of your maid
there is beauty to love and to share,
and where tolerance-fashioned-foundations are laid
there’s a karma that’s right royal and rare.

whether sunrise by dawn or the gold of a noon
find karma in chroma or sod,
or the beat of lapels or a two stroke tune
on some bike handed to us by god.

.................
I’m thinking of sketching some lines in the sand
and teaching my kids yoga stances,
but they tell me “hey pops, don’t worry old man
cos dads are just s%$#t as breakdancers."

So these lines in the sand will be taken by tide
and time will erase all my poem
except for - perhaps - a scent of some thyme
........
which in time they’ll relearn on their own.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zen_and_the_Art_of_Motorcycle_Maintenance

 

[noirua]

An interesting road on the investment scene,
A warning, no entry, therefore don't be seen,
some may venture where only a few will go
and then find themselves buried in the snow.

Last year, we could invest by way of a pin
never mind if you had, had many a gin,
now the weather is very, very much changed
and storms and strong winds and driving rain.

Your portfolio risk, is one for all, to carefully assess,
otherwise, you may find, you're somewhat undressed,
if it's only your shirt, that you have lost, don't careless
if it's all you've got left, heavens, will see you unblessed.

So look my friends, carefully, to the gravity of your scene
and don't let me tell you, yes, regret where you've been,
it's yourself that you really, need to strongly address,
otherwise, you may, be wishing, you could be put to rest.

Take care with your investments in 2008 - by noirua

 

[2020hindsight]

noi, yet another weekend of waiting to see the reaction (Monday) to Friday night's drop in the Dow. (- 250 whatever)

I remember the days I used to tell the wife ... "You're looking better than the Dow Jones Industrial Average, dear" .... . I've stopped saying that - for fear of getting a black eye in return, lol.

lol - like it :-

Your portfolio risk, is one for all, to carefully assess,
otherwise, you may find, you're somewhat undressed,
if it's only your shirt, that you have lost, don't careless
if it's all you've got left, heavens, will see you unblessed.

THE DOW HOWLS AT NIGHT

I go to bed like a helpless pawn
and I sleep whilst the Dow “does it’s thing”
If the Dow goes down I wake forlorn
If up then I wake like a King;

I wish that I knew what awaited at dawn
but prior to the mischievous moon,
and I wish that I knew whether bloom or thorn
awaited –
- ... in the prior afternoon.

Will I wake to the "hair of the dog" in some tent
will the tail of the dog wag soon
will the evening bring subprimes with evil intent
primevals that howl at the moon;

They say that the subprime is primed to go off
then they say – place your bets! – (just don’t blow it)
I sometimes just wonder if brokers show off -
if they’re scared IN ADVANCE they should show it !

By the time that they sing to one tune with one voice
game’s up ! and we’re all out of time;
ahh - until then I’ll go with my natural choice
my heart – and my lucky dime

Will it slope up or down, is it "shaped" short or long
or the view from a mountain-goat climb,
and who or which soothsayer sang the right song ?.......
all that we will learn in good time

 

[2020hindsight]

HEY BROKER , WON'T YOU TELL ME WHAT IT MEANS

I looked to my sofa and took a brief rest -
and I dreamt if the market would trough or crest uh-huh

and I dreamt of a bear with a bullhorn (you guessed) -
and beside him was a sleeping bull bearing it's chest ?? uh-huh

and a bear with a bullhorn ate the sleeping bull (boiled) uh-huh
then the bull said sompin bout oils aint oils ?? uh-huh

well the missus just looked at me stupid
and I don’t have a clue
So don't be cruel broker
Help me I beg of you

Hey, hey, hey Broker !!!!
Won't you tell this poor poor fellow !!!!
What does this crazy, crazy, crazy, crazy dream mean?
Oh, yeah

Pharoahs Song Song of the King - Joseph

Pharoah's Song - Uwe Kröger

SONG OF THE KING (to JOSEPH)
When they sing this song, they invariably impersonate Elvis - Hencewise (I guess?) it's titled the Song of the King


Well I was walking along by the banks of the river - When seven fat cows came up out of the Nile, uh-huh
And right behind these fine healthy animals came - Seven other cows, skinny and vile, uh-huh
Well the thin cows ate the fat cows which I - Thought would do them good, uh-huh
But it didn't make them fatter like such - A monster supper should
Well the thin cows were as thin - As they had ever, ever, ever been
.....
Well this dream has got me baffled - Hey, Joseph, won't you tell me what it means?
Well you know that kings ain't stupid - But I don't have a clue
So don't be cruel Joseph - Help me I beg of you

Well I was standing doing nothing in a field out of town - When I saw seven beautiful ears of corn, uh-huh
They were ripe, they were golden and - You've guessed it, Right behind them came seven other ears, Tattered and torn, uh-huh -
Well the bad corn ate the good corn - They came up from behind yes they did
Now Joseph here's the punch line - It's really gonna blow your mind, baby -
Well the bad corn was as bad as it had ever, ever ever been -
....
Well this dream has got me all shook up - Treat me nice and tell me what it means....
Hey, hey, hey Joseph !!!!
Won't you tell poor old Pharaoh !!!!
What does this crazy, crazy, crazy, crazy dream mean?
Oh, yeah

PHARAOH's DREAM EXPLAINED (JOSEPH)

Seven years of bumper crops are on their way - Years of plenty, endless wheat and tons of hay
Your farms will boom, there won't be room - To store the surplus food you grow
After that, the future doesn't look so bright - Egypt's luck will change completely overnight
And famine's hand will stalk the land - With food an all-time low
Noble king, there is no doubt - What your dreams are all about
All these things you saw in your pajamas - Are a long range forecast for your farmers
And I'm sure it's crossed your mind -What it is you have to find
Find a man to lead you through the famine - With a flair for economic planning
But who this man could be
I just don't know - Who this man could be
I just don't know - Who this man could be
I just don't know

 

[noirua]

noi, yet another weekend of waiting to see the reaction (Monday) to Friday night's drop in the Dow. (- 250 whatever)

I remember the days I used to tell the wife ... "You're looking better than the Dow Jones Industrial Average, dear" .... . I've stopped saying that - for fear of getting a black eye in return, lol.

Hi 2020, At least your wife knows what the Dow Jones Industrial Average is.
Markets aren't that bad, it's only if we get forced sellers and they send everything down.
Australia is the Far East and Asia so the blows are cushioned.
Mind you, people do grumble. No rain and they curse the drought and now it's all coming down at once and flooding the place. - noi

 

[2020hindsight]

"I SEE NO SHIPS, ONLY HARDSHIPS"

Nelson was a leader and a noble English Lord
with his red and white and blue and gold and scrambled egg and sword
there were enemy ahead but only fifty to his one
so he called out Hardy first mate, let’s go forth and have some fun?
…..
stand by foremast, first things foremost, - first a second fifth of rum. !

Now his boss in those days (Jervis) was a much more cautious dude
- when he sent the flags aloft for “caution” Nelson nearly booed
but instead he used a trick he’d learnt when his wife or her mother nags
saying (spyglass to his glass eye) simply …..“I don’t see no flags”.

well they charged into the battle and the rest is history
flinging cannon shot to windward sometimes straight up and to lee
and he scored brave hits on bigger ships and won it by a mile
they promoted him to Egypt as de leader of deNial.

He had a certain knack with men – it was called “the Nelson touch”
he could get the most out of most of them – (and he loved the women much)
He lived with Emma Hamilton - while his wife lived back at home
the Ambassadoress to Naples, (faced with Nipples act like Rome).

Some years rolled by … Trafalgar - deadly kick-box with the frogs
in his dashy little runabout where they had floating logs
and he leapfrogged through their party, green eyes staring in their ships
till they shot him – "Kiss me Hardy – cheek man !! not my bludy lips!!"

The moral? well there isn’t one, it’s totally immoral
and even Lords of "Nile - ons" end up food for cods and coral
and don’t mix up fifths of rum and "take-no-quarters"-freddy-frog
or Fred Nile and his wowsers will find some fault – that you’re spiced up on the grog.

...........
When you’re handing out the “how to votes” and handing out the kisses
you can plant a kiss on his baby, but don’t try it with his missus
important too to leave unkissed the bouncers of the party
or you’ll end up being called limp wrist – and the taunt of “kiss me Hardy”

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Horatio_Nelson,_1st_Viscount_Nelson

 

[2020hindsight]

THANKS FOR THE OFFER OF A LAST MEAL

Far be it .. for me.. to suggest a goose chase
but I really like goosewings in gooseberry paste
while baking the goose wings, use truffles to baste
and cook it real slowly, it's fatal to haste.

I suggest about forty degrees for a week
then 30 more years - mmm - at 45 peak
then leave it to cool on a sill overnight
during lunar eclipse for the optimum light.

Then as for the gooseberries to use in the paste
you need a selection that are here and there based
I love those blue gooseberries that grow in the wild
I saw them at Cape Horn (when the weather was mild).

Then the wild desert gooseberries found in the Simpson
Then Crimean gooseberries crunchy and crimson
then the bird-eating gooseberries where the wild Niger flows
and the red-and-blue-striped ones found? god only knows!?.

Far be it for me to suggest a goose chase
I can't save myself, but I still savour taste
it must be from wild geese, flying east within reason,
and virgins, and left wings, and caught out of season.

I thank you for the offer for the last meal I'll taste
did I mention I get heartburn, if I eat in half-haste.