Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts

Saturday, 15 June 2013

Seattle Sojourn...

Early in June on a hot sunny morn,
while Double-A and the little dudes (recently born)
had a date with the Doc
 map in my pocket and camera in hand,
eyes peeled for the quirky, the charming, the grand,
I ventured downtown to take stock.

And here's what I found.
 
I found a Goliath who raises his arm
And brings it back down in a smooth arc of calm...
 
 
...while lightning strikes right by the bay.


A pioneer totem amid leaves green and fair
Stands strong, proud and tall in a cool shady square...
 

...while all the signs invite sweet surrender.



On this corner's the site where the logs came to rest
And the wood turned to dust at the sawmill's behest...


...while nearby beans are ground underfoot.


I popped out the back and turned away from the Sound.
An alternative side of an icon I found...


...yet cross-town, underground
this buried old boozer's run dry...

 
...while this ceiling adds colour 35 stories high.


So with sightseeing done and the bus due anon
I wandered back up to the place I'd begun
My nose and cheeks pink from the warm Summer sun...
 
...my first sojourn done.

Saturday, 2 February 2013

A Symbol Of Freedom And Light...

Once upon a time, in a land far far away, there was great debate about whether Australia should become a republic. A survey was created (called a referendum) and all of the people in the land were invited to participate. The results revealed a nation divided with the vote to maintain Australia's colonial status quo snatching victory from the republicans  55/45.

But there was outcry. Some of the people suggested that the questions did not really present a clear choice between Republican-ism and Colonial-ism. And so while the Colonialists won the battle in 1999, the undercurrent of discontent around the Great Republican Question bubbled on.

And in the midst of this, there remained another question - the question of the flag and whether it was really fitting for our modern and multicultural nation.


I love the Australian flag.

I love how it celebrates our southern location and open skies with the Southern Cross constellation.

I love how it honours our Federation with the seven pointed Commonwealth Star - with six points representing the six previously self-governing states and one point representing the territories and any future states.

And I love that it also gives a nod to the arrival of the First Fleet in 1788 to make the first modern settlement in Australia, 16 years after pioneering Englishman Captain James Cook sailed along Australia's eastern coastline.

But like most things in life, this is not a simple fairytale and our nation is still on its journey to find a happy ending. Does our flag reflect the indigenous, the discoveries of the Dutch (through explorers Willem Janszoon and Abel Tasman) and the emergence of a multicultural nation inspired by new horizons, the prospect of success borne of hard work and not least, the hopeful opportunity of the Gold Rush.

Is it really a reflection of our modern nation, whether it be colonial or republic?

And then earlier this week, I opened an email from Mum to find a poem that was given to her in the late 1970s by an ex-servicewoman she knew in Cairns. As I read it, I felt proud that our flag held such patriotism and passion in its thrall and my fierce republican heart couldn't help but recognise the validity - and poignancy - of her words.
 
KEEP THE FLAG
Our flag bears the stars that blaze at night
In the Southern sky of blue
And a little old flag in the corner
That’s part of our heritage too.
 
It’s for the English, the Scots and the Irish
Who were sent to the ends of the earth.
The rogues and schemers, the doers and dreamers
Who gave modern Australia birth.
 
And you who are shouting to change
You don’t seem to understand
It’s the flag of our law and our language
Not the flag of a faraway land.
 
Though there are plenty of people who’ll tell you
How, when Europe was plunged into night
That little old flag in the corner
Was their symbol of freedom and light.
 
It doesn’t mean we owe allegiance
To a long forgotten imperial dream
We’ve the stars to show where we’re going
And the old flag to show where we've been.

Out with the old and in with new? Suddenly it's not such a simple question.

Saturday, 17 March 2012

An Urban Thriller...The End


It's quiet.
Not a sound.
I'm pleased to report
Has found
The bait I laid down.

With patience I waited,
With pellets of green
In a little white tray
Four times baited.
(A poisonous hue
As ever I'd seen.)

And now my abode
Is quiet and still.
The scrabbling has ceased
And it would appear
My guest ate his fill

And ventures no more.


Sunday, 11 March 2012

An Urban Thriller Part 1....



There's a mouse in my house.
An unwelcome guest,
A worry, a pain,
An unsightly pest.
For my pragmatic mettle, a test.

I thought I heard something
From my sofa this week
And when I looked up
My eyes caught a streak.
With a scurry, a squeak

It vanished so fast,
I thought it a dream.
No sign 'round the fridge
Where I thought I had seen
A tail most obscene
Disappear.

But last night there were noises
A few rustling sounds
So I tip-toed straight in
Stood my stockinged-feet ground
And waited.

And guess what I found.

With a flick of the switch
The room was alight
And against the white floor tiles
I took in the sight
Of a furry black critter
In flight.

So I turned off the light
And closed off the room.
And this morning I searched,
A harbinger of doom,
For something to rid that pest
From my room.

Now the trap has been set
And I patiently wait
'Til my unwelcome guest
Tempts its unwitting fate
By taking the bait....


Source: Andrea Borges on pinterest



...to be continued

Sunday, 31 July 2011

Twas The Night Before Birthday...

Twas the night before birthday
And all through the land
The excitement's been building
The day off is planned.

Yesterday's Vintage
Was a trip back in time
From disco to swing dance
And fashion sublime.

And today we've done polo,
With divot and chukka,
The picnic we had
Was definitely pukka.

So sun-kissed and dozy
I'm back at my screen
At my cosy front window
To muse where I've been.

41 has been tough
With 'curve balls' galore
And it's been hard not to miss
The good life from before.

But finally it seems
The sun has come out
And its warmth on my face
Reminds me what it's about.

Old roads and new paths
To defend and to chart
With family and friends
Those close to my heart.

So on this night before birthday
As 41 fades away
I fondly wave it farewell
And bid 42 'Gidday!'