ASF Poetry Thread

2020hindsight · 12 July 2008

noi...
already posted prior to the last election...
but he didn't listen to my advice to walk, lol.
Reference to the "Prince", needless to say - was Costello.

KING JOHNNY DISCUSSING REGICIDE WITH HIS TROOPS

I’ve called this meeting this morning
cos the polls have us out on a ledge
and this talk of a “Regicide” (??) dawning
well not while I’m bludy REG.

I’m Robin of Loxley whatever
I’m the Rex of my seat Benalong
and don't question if I’m the most clever
cos I’ve “ben a long” time as REG KONG.

If you give me that damned “King-is-dead” word
I’d say that that doesn’t make sense!!
I'm the King-like-the-soothsayer-said word
what the heck? “Long live the Prince??”.

and nobody mention this coup word
(I just heard whilst out on that ledge)
this "Bring-on-a-Reg-who-is-new" word
cos my name - do you HEAR - is still REG!!

.........
as to whether (King John) this is personal
or this power thing's arguably tidal
10 years wed for better-or-worse-an-all
if you "walk" then it's not "regicidal"!!

I hope you don’t mind this, your highness
when recalling this all later on
with Robin of Benalong behind us
can we then call you... just ... Little John?.

.........
PS
It looks like you're no longer Big John
It looks like you're no longer Reg
It's back to old "trimming the fig" John
with your trimming shear's razor sharp edge

You've still got your super-annuation
(if the Caymans go broke, you can hedge)
You can call the tree "retirement probation"
in the shape of a bludy great wedge

You can trim the tree "retirement probation"
yet another "political wedge"

2020hindsight · 12 July 2008

http://www.mcb.wa.gov.au/publicVMemorial/memorial.php?cmd=show1&v=23

Some prose and some poetry written by Sir Paul Hasluck, as read by his son Nicholas at his funeral in 1993...

In a passage towards the end of his fine war history, "The Government and the People 1939 - 1945" (1970), my father also reveals an understanding of what it took for Australia to become a nation:

“To the people the war had brought sorrow. It had also brought pride. The consolation of those who mourned lies in the privacy of their minds. When it was expressed in public it would seem to have been the consolation of knowing that a husband, son or brother had acted worthily.

He had done his best, had stuck by his mates, had come through the testing time, had given his life for something greater than himself, had defended what was right. No one should reject or mock the well worn phrases for behind them is the sadness and the pride of a noble people, and each word hides the grief at the loss of what one human being had loved more than anything else on this earth.

That personal grief and pride were shared by many more when the troops marched. Anyone who stood in wartime in an Australian city, immersed in the crowd, and watched the troops go by knew the strong and binding comradeship that a shared grief and pride can bring to men and women.

It was not at the moment when the crowd cheered, but at the moment when emotion quietened them and the tears came unbidden while the men who had fought, strong, sun tanned, tight jawed and fit, swung past with that loose and confident stride that only Australian soldiers have; and, as rank succeeded rank, thoughts turned to those who had not come back and hearts were deeply moved by the patriotism which brings the dedication of men and women to causes that lift them out of themselves.”

It occurs to me that only a poet with a deep love of the land and an understanding of 'the sweet simplicities of life' could have written such passages. So let me now refer to a poem from Dark Cottage (1984), a book my father wrote in retirement. The poem is called 'Space Probe':

“You went away loudly and have come back
To the small hushed ripples of the sea.
You have explored the surface of the moon
And outer space and gazed on silvery earth
From far away, found stars beyond the stars
And still know nothing more than I have known
On one small hilltop, drowsing at mid day
Where on a swaying thistle stalk
A winter robin perched.

And the brilliant declaration of its breast
Shone as a revelation of all life.
The emptiness of space
Shrinks to the fullness of this patch.
Here flames the red breast truth.
From here the living Me,
Lifted in exultation,
Inhabits without vehicle the whole universe
Hearing the singing sound of space illimited
And the small noise of beetles in the grass."

2020hindsight · 12 July 2008

What Paul Hasluck said

The following quotations are taken by Paul Hasluck’s book, Light That Time Has Made, a collection of essays and reviews written in his later years.

....

“Thrift”

“Moving into the last quarter of the century one sees that thrift and the underlying idea that it was dishonest to spend more than you have are being discarded. The whole pattern of social life is an inducement to incur debts “ an encouragement to want more and more. There are merit and material benefits in spending and none in saving. Profligacy has lost its meaning. Thrift has no benison.”

“Goggling”

"Television in its nature is more than a new means of communication. It is not simply an improvement of the cinema or an additional medium for giving news and information. It has imposed itself on the pattern of living and has had an influence on human behaviour much more extensive than the cinema or the wireless. Television is part of a vast social transformation. The effect of the change will be even more remarkable as goggling becomes a substitute for thinking.”

PS
whereas "Googling" ASSISTS thinking lol

noirua · 12 July 2008

Hi 2020 et al, "Bring back Costello!". The Aussie economy is set to become the most complicated in the World. Booming rich sectors with new multi millionaires combined with bombed out companies. Some companies have risen up to 60 fold and others have plunged - all over the shop.

I prefer a steady experienced hand and not an economy with some at the top of the hill and others in a hole.

I'm laughing as i've always been a miner and oiler type investor and hold about 75% cash. Some I know are heading for the hole and get angry if I try to give that annoying advice. Annoying, because I was once in a deep cavine myself, and they know it and perhaps there is some resentment when the financial pecking order reverses.

Not a poem - by noirua

2020hindsight · 13 July 2008

THE LUCKY COUNTRY - WE JUST MINE THE STUFF.

On behalf of the share holding owners round here
of BHP, FMG, and RIO
of the miners, their kids and their mortgage fear,
when they R&R back in Freo,
I’ll apologise for the carbon footprints of yore
that my dump truck made yesterday
at least when we mine for uranium ore,
our footprints are pointing “right way.”

You can't blame the drink machine bloke (incidentally
who brings us our Dick Smith’s Geo)
and (ignoring the US – they’re off the planet mentally)
nor my sunspotting friend Galilio,
up here in the Pilbara, there’s dust by the wheelbarra,
and most of it bright red with iron
and the ore trains and ships, sure they add carbon bits
but we’re better than coal-fired - and we’re trying.

On behalf of the future Australian economy
that depends in large part on us trio
and (ignoring those people who burn round in hummers)
on behalf of the bikers and their BO
Hey if people think mining is worse than steel-making,
that’s wrong, but no matter, so be it
Though I personally live in a small fibro house,
and I drive – like – a small bubble Fiat.

The planet is clearly in the direst condition
since the days of Anthony and Cleo
even soothsayers say “sooth! no grandkids!, no fishing!”
according to some star sign near Leo.
Sure the Nile keeps flowing, and better than the Murray
(where the puddles link once in a while)
Yet the argument keeps going, “hey what’s the damned hurry !
we can all go and live in de-Nial!”.

And ignoring Al Gore’s computer mouse,
as he youtubes “O Solo Mio”
on behalf of those folk in a steel-studded house
that you don’t have to treat with creo (editor’s note creosote)
and ignoring those people who think carbon restraint
is just so much “oh mumma mio”
I hope that world govts can spread some green paint,
from far left to Nazi-neo.

PS. With that off my chest, the sun sinks in the west
it’s a common sense matter, half deadly half jest
I’m off to hug me a tree-o.

drillinto · 13 July 2008

Nights

Kevin Hart

There’s nothing that I really want:
The stars tonight are rich and cold
Above my house that vaguely broods
Upon a path soon lost in dark.

My dinner plate is chipped all round
(It tells me that I’ve changed a lot);
My glass is cracked all down one side
(It shows there is a path for me).

My hands””I rest my head on them.
My eyes””I rest my mind on them.
There’s nothing that I really need
Before I set out on that path.

from Gettysburg Review
Volume 19, Number 3, Autumn 2006, page 470

2020hindsight · 15 July 2008

LIABILITY FOR INACTION ON GLOBAL WARMING

the planet is in traction, a truly global war,
man fights the critter faction, rich fights against the poor
it’s a fossil fuel attraction, that attacks the icesheet shore
(why not cut back just a fraction – admit we’re a bit unsure ?)

it's the lack of a reaction that aggrevates the sore.
as we watch the liquefaction. as the cracked off icebergs roar
do we listen to our scientists – or to arguments obscure?
do we follow a certain road to hell or take that last detour?

there’s one way to resolve it that cuts right to the core
make the ones that spruke for weird inaction – liable in law.
… yes there’s one way to resolve it – to snap out of this mental snore
an immediate retraction – or they’re liable in law.

2020hindsight · 15 July 2008

http://www.abc.net.au/pm/content/2008/s2301648.htm

Ms Pike says she's planning to, among other things, dress up as a condom and hand out leaflets at Sydney's Central Station.

And Ms Evans will be walking with pilgrims on their pilgrimage across the city, handing out condoms and leaflets and talking to them about issues like homosexuality, abortion and contraception.

WYD - KIDS WILL BE KIDS

A condom! Satan! get thee hence !
A roulette game makes far more sense !
But will out lust for life turn fact?
Well Fannie Mae if Freddie Macked.

noirua · 16 July 2008

I don't believe it,
I can't believe it,
I won't believe it,
It just ain't true.

I do believe it,
I must believe it,
I will believe it,
It is the just truth.

I couldn't care less,
I'm very careless,
I just don't care,
Bang, bang, bang.

All dead - by noirua

2020hindsight · 16 July 2008

...

Spring in the Bronx (by anonymous)

Spring is sprung,
Duh grass is riz;
I wonder where dem boidies is?

Dey say duh boid is on duh wing:
But dat’s absoid!
Duh wing is on duh boid!

noirua · 18 July 2008

She is there so very obvious, in largest,
can't move much, bad leg, 'nd that,
rushest out though, a puff is needed,
chocolate in bedside..., is much needed.

Diabetic and uncaring, leg bandaged, 'nd that,
watchest TV 'till midnight, and chocolate missing,
g'meit back at once, you cockroach in largest,
but not bought, changed, and time ran out,

leaves, signs out, has gone and merry in chocolate,
limping and struggling, yes, she screams, 308lbs
take that and that and that, bash bash, now left,
hit bollard, fishing in my dream, offices on Monday.

Frustrating - by noirua

2020hindsight · 20 July 2008

THE POPE'S RANDWICK SPEECH SUMMARY

I really like this backdrop
and there’s something else I’ll tell
beyond the good-cop-bad-cop
twixt myself and Cardinal Pell. -
1. I would have got here earlier
2. if we won the war (Heaven forbid)
3. It's the greatest youth day ever
4. now to meet next in Madrid

2020hindsight · 21 July 2008

Here's a poem that's kinda special to me. It was carried by my father through the war. Obviously he was thinking more of my brother than of me (I wasn't born lol) - still, he died a few years after the war, and I have very little else in his hand writing.

The poet? - a soldier, thinking of home, and his small son.

PS I plagiarised this a bit in this poem "If the War Hadn't Got in the Way"
https://www.aussiestockforums.com/forums/showthread.php?p=83551&highlight=mustard#post83551

Here’s a gift to keep you amused my boy, Till I RUN back one bright sunny day,
But.... in case I don’t then remember this toy, Each night when you kneel to pray,
How we planned to do all those things so keen, When fathers and children play,
And the miriad things that might have been, Had the war not got in the way.

SON: To a Photograph from Home
by J. Alex Allan 2nd AIF

1. Little friend of all the world,
do you care or does it matter
that our household Gods are hurled,
from their ancient plinths a-shatter,
Never by us puling men,
To be pedestalled again?
…. There’s precision
in the way you tier those blocks -
Placing them, and raising after,
Boyblue, frank eyes , spilling laughter
Till one sweeping, plump palm knocks
Everything to ruin!.……
……………………….say,
Little fellow are you fey?
Was it allegory, jest,
Irony the perfectest?
Small unbroken yearling colt
Innocent of bit and bridle
Did you mean it for a jolt?
Plain derision ?
Was it only impulse idle ?
Have you vision?
Tis the gift you own mayhap
All unknowing, little chap!

2. Little friend of everyman
what I’ve written’s necromancy,
nor have I with other than
this, the retina of fancy,
sought you, seen you, fathered you,
eighteen months! YOU’RE NEARLY TWO!
There’s provision
in this picture of you, posed
like a tiny wrestler, ready
left foot flung and shoulders steady,
hands hung loose and demiclosed:
and that level look …
…………………It stays
seeking like a stag’s at gaze!
Fair head set on body’s stance
like a banner on a lance..
‘Twas a little babe I kissed
when I left. You could not love me
then, so small, …… and I have missed
In one decision
things which war has plundered of me:
soft elision -
sweet slurred consonants – steps begun –
just hard fortune, little son!

3. Little friend of all the earth
(plain to read that in your smiling)
In your world is naught but worth,
maids and truemen for beguiling,
Clouds and wind to wonder at,
stairs to climb and dogs to pat.
In Elysian.
Hours of moonstone set in gold,
Hilltops, birdloud woods below you -
(you’ll not think of me as old?)
Lancing rain on leaves ……
………. we’ll sup,
Watching clucking flame go up
Cakes to nibble.., nuts to crack……
Whittington and Beanstalk Jack,
Bobsbeck Brownie, Elvish King
Crossboned pirates, beating keyward…
………….But in future’s reckoning
and revision,
should the wheel swing false to me-ward
make provision
saying “He came not; yet - ‘tis true
these were things he meant to do!”

2020hindsight · 21 July 2008

oops
sometimes in life you have to do things twice . lol
I leave it to the mods if they feel like tidying this up.. but I omitted a line ..

3. Little friend of all the earth
(plain to read that in your smiling)
In your world is naught but worth,
maids and truemen for beguiling,
Clouds and wind to wonder at,
stairs to climb and dogs to pat.
In Elysian.
Hours of moonstone set in gold,
I shall shoulder you and show you
Hilltops, birdloud woods below you -
(you’ll not think of me as old?)
Lancing rain on leaves ……
………. we’ll sup,
Watching clucking flame go up
Cakes to nibble.., nuts to crack……
Whittington and Beanstalk Jack,
Bobsbeck Brownie, Elvish King
Crossboned pirates, beating keyward…
………….But in future’s reckoning
and revision,
should the wheel swing false to me-ward
make provision
saying “He came not; yet - ‘tis true
these wer things he meant to do!”

wayneL · 21 July 2008

The climate’s a-changin’
Or so the klaxons say
We’re burning too much fuel
We must find another way

They say we must put in gaol
Those crim’s who have a doubt
But why not look at facts?
That should sort things out

Yep, the north is getting warm
The ice is getting thin
But it’s dif’rent down the other end
Things are not so grim.

To get an accurate picture
One we cannot doubt
We must look here AND there
We must really look about

The folks with open eyes
See vastly different things
To those who are on the gravy train
And to those whose song they sing

As for me my friends and foes
I have a brand new lease on life
I’m only here for the shortest time
Too short for constant strife

So have a drink on me
Go have some blinkin' fun
Eat, drink, and be merry
And let others beat the drum

-WL

wayneL · 21 July 2008

There is a man on the net, whose name says he looks to the rear
Who is adamant that we should all be living in fear
To those who fail to venerate
The IPCC, we should incarcerate
But adds to the problem with his career

wayneL · 21 July 2008

There was a young scientist, just new to the art
Who claimed that cows should not be allowed to fart
But we all know that methane
Isn’t really as profane
As scientists who prove they’re not smart

wayneL · 22 July 2008

There’s this bloke, it is bridges he builds
On the topic of climate, the lily he gilds
He bows down to Al Gore
That most incredible bore
Meanwhile, with huge green taxes we’re billed

wayneL · 22 July 2008

There is a land, surrounded by sea
An island more populous than most
It’s bigger than some and its borders are free
But its economy is most assuredly toast

The problem we have, or rather acquired
Is a PM unelected, a man named Brown
By not saving a quid the gu’mint is mired
Prudence was ignored, by neglect she did drown

We wanted it now, became slaves to the card
Must have those shoes, that car, that ring
We must have it now, or life will be hard
Ignore the cost, who knows what tomorrow will bring

It was bad enough, our personal sins of the PIN
But our man in the chair, a Scot
Whose pockets are as deep as their shin
Bled the treasury dry, never thinking to stop

For the hard times that would surely come
And those extra pennies we’d need
Were spent on convincing the some
That it is Labour that your pennies should feed

You should have looked after Prudence, and not left her to choke
Because now the banks are all broke, they’ll give us no fiat to burn
We look forward to a winter of discontent, to stoke
For we no longer have shares for our broker to churn

But worst of all Gordo, old ****
Is though we made some hay in the sun
Is that not every season yields a bumper crop
And you should’ve put some in the shed, you bum.

-WL

*****************

It's all crap, but I didn't even know I could do this.

wayneL · 22 July 2008

Sorry, more crap. I have no idea where this is coming from.

Catholic Girls

The Catholic girls start much too late,
Or so said the man on the piano
And I’ve done my best to change this fact
By speaking a bunch of guano

I’ve even tried the blood of the Christ
Stolen from the front of the nave
It tasted great and we drank the lot
But she steadfastly refused in to cave

Soon was I to learn, not me did she covet
It was a ring and the obligatory dance
It was the day she wanted in a white wedding dress
And not what was lurking in my pants

So off I did go, I threw in the towel
To find me a more accommodating chick
But one thing I learned from all this travail
Is next time to not to be so exceedingly thick

ASF Poetry Thread

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