Petitudes

The Darling Pets of May

May:

The legs of the Elephant

Not scare at a mouse

The eyes of a cat

Not burgle a house

The ears of a rat

Not abode any louse

Nor the fever of a dog

Run hot as a spouse

May:

The nose of a rabbit

Be tickled by a trout

The kindness of a kitten

Be smitten by a stout

The radar of a Russian

Be rattled by a lout

Or the uncle of a Kingdom

Be carbuncled by a bout

May:

The hubris of a herbivore

Be preyed on by a quail

Or the vertigo of an eagle

Be debedded by a snail

The notion of a cuckoo

Be knocked by a tail

Or the hailing of a whale

Be disgruntled with a nail

May:

All these and likewise

Never come into fruition

Or else the trees upon which they grow

Be banished from Eden’s Kingdom

May never a more saintly brow

Be mopped up by a vet

And therefore good kind Gents and Ladies

Do look after your goodly pets

Australian Reflections

Notes from a train

In the Out,

The river bed stout

Dry and dry again

Never fall the rains

On the potbellied plain

Of the crumbling green of tufted grasses

The crinkling leaves of trees in copses

The sapphire blue of the infinite sky

Against the dark green of the mountains

The peppered fields peopled by sheep

That peep from a green sea like fish out the deep

And forests, oh forests of spectacular stun

That reach to keep the splendid sun

And jack in the Marsh, rabbit on the hop

The kangaroo is filibustered in the election of the sun

Wallabies hid in the wheat

Spray of yellow rape at his feet

In the afternoon light

That is a delight

Upon the mottled plain

The mountainous lumps

Are stony stumps

Which lie in timeless stages for ages not in vain

The stirring rills which catch and spill

In pearly, swirly swills

Where swallows swoon

And boys fish with a loom

From their mother’s knitting room

Upon Cow Hill

Upon Cow Hill

What a thrill!

The moo of the mountains

As they kneel in the Sun

The pockets of forest

That bristle erect after fog

The dark cloud shadow

That blackens their slopes

Then the face of the loch

The whiffs of steam or smoke

From a factory in windless sky

Hanging like souls not yet ready to depart

Not yet willing to die

The Sequin Sea

Sequin claws

On sequin draws

The rope of the hangman

Hangs heavy on the door

And seasons come and seasons go

As the weather cock does crow

Into the heartland of the fire

Were burning embers glow

Seasons come and seasons pass

The love of a lost one

Leaves its cutlass

Aboard the ship of privateers

The stowaway steals the ship’s chest

To bring his heart to homeland

To sacrifice his death

John Drummond – the merchant Whaler stands

Upon the ship’s crow’s nest

And spies one eye onto the ocean

To fill his glass the best

The mud that lets the river pass

Is melting like the snow

But cracks as ice so the skater knows

He’s walking on thin plate glass

Merchant whaler rolls a drum

That explodes his current bun

Into the arms of James the First

Whose messenger there had come

To lead his navy into further lands than kingdom known

The merchant pledged his life to this messenger’s tongue

And onward now his life must run

Always in bondage bound o this King’s thumb

Down to the heart rug

Of certain pins

The hat that covers up is face

Is the same that ruins his whims

The sadness that holds his joy

Is that which will in him soon destroy

All hope of love all caste the iron men of Troy

To iron curtains rides the horse

Saying giddy up good boy

What’s to come can be no worse

See there’s land I spy, Ahoy!, Ahoy!

One too many mornings

Will you laugh, laugh in the morning

Laugh til the lady bird sighs

And cry, cry for the mourning

Is yet to be gone from her eyes

And love is terrible speed

When it impels our desire and need

To be gone with all fashion

Decorum just leaves passion

And Men are compelled by their greed

So lets chew, chew in the morning

Chew on the terrible cud

That we all must be gone by the morning

For love to be buried in the mud

And the lies that bond us are many

The chains that shackle are few

But they are won by the toss of a penny

And lost like a shipwrecked crew

We will dance, dance in the morning

Dance til our feet soles are worn

Dance in the seas in the morning

Dance for the oaths that were sworn

And the coast will rise up to meet us

And the boats will be rocked on the shore

And the harbour where our souls greet us

Will be purged with the waves that are shorn

Now chime, chime without reason

Chime though the lovers be dead

And speak, speak forth your treason

For it all will be yours and her head

The time came without warning

Its arrows like thunderbolts sped

O the crisp true light of the morning

Where the swallows children are fed

As the holy blood comes in the dawning

And the thorns run rivers of red  

It is better to light a candle Than curse the dark

Won’t you go to the dance my dear?

It is better to light a candle

Than curse the dark its clear

It is best to look up at the bright moon and stars

Than out across a plain and barren land of scars

The floods may come to swathe your home

But do not wait in standing waters

You do not stand alone

There are some city quarters

Left dry to the bone

The people who are refugees

They leave their land and families

And yet can look ahead in hope

Here is some good that leads as a rope

The stranded downcast farmer’s lot

Who works for peanuts for that’s all he’s got

Will come back home to his dear wife

And thank the heavens for his good life

There is some good in man or beast

Which wins the day when chance is least

There is some truth that Art succeeds

Beneath the crushing fist of War that makes it bleed

 There is in death even a final beauty

Which lightens the soul and transforms terror from duty

And in the butterfly’s sweet fledge

There are the wings of the Moth whose pledge

Does likewise fly to the candle light

And makes bright the darkest night

And from this you’ll see more clear

Its best to light the candle

Than curse the darkness out of fear

Bush Fires

Fire on the mountain

Consuming all the wood

I wish you could

Do some good

Koorawatha, snakes in the shade of trees

Billabongs and ponds

Australiana frieze

Rusted railings cockatoos

White sheep on their knees

Horned cattle and wallabies

As alone stands the tree

Termite mounds of red earth lean

Telegraph poles stand in apostrophes

Ridges of sand stone stood hard

In relief of the Aussy back yard

 The sun’s heat blazes from an all seeing height

Dashing visions of rape seed in yellow oil light

Penniless farms in lands of plenty

Mines and rock shards below

The towns of shanty misery

Streams flow beside Olympian highways

Bendicmorrow

Of rusty ears and machinery