In the mind of a Babe
Where spoken language does –
Not yet dwell –
Are images the rule?
The River – the sharp Knife –
Shaping memories,
Proffering ideas –
Until words… fail him?
Archives
All posts for the month May, 2015
Written in response to a Stanford University prompt to write new words (politically motivated) to an easily recognisable tune. I have chosen John Denver’s annoyingly catchy tune “Country Roads” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1vrEljMfXYo).
Almost made it, across this ocean,
One more hardship, here comes the monsoon season.
Children die here, in their mothers arms
Will we find a nation, to stop this awful harm?
Ocean breeze, take me there,
To the place, I long to be.
Safe asylum
Distant refuge, take me there
On pure blue seas.
One more shoreline, shines before our eyes
The Christian people will surely grant our lives.
But dark ships stop us and point us back to sea,
Reject our arrival and more horrors we will see.
Ocean breeze, take me there,
To the place, I long to be.
Safe asylum
Distant refuge, take me there
On pure blue seas.
You surely hear our cries, in the evening while you’re dreaming?
We’re running for our lives, from our homes far away.
And in the morning as you pray before your morning meal
Remember that; but for the grace of God – there go you! There go you!
Ocean breeze, take me there,
To the place, I long to be.
Safe asylum
Distant refuge, take me there
On pure blue seas.
On pure blue seas.
Powerful and uncomfortably true words. Great poetry.
I have seen children
Die of thirst and of hunger.
They were the future.
They dance, dance, dance in my eyes,
I can’t forget, I don’t want.
king tide runs seaward
christmas toys drift unwanted
the Son forsaken
My First attempt at a Shakespearean Sonnet:
How do I hate thee, is there need to say,
or do my actions speak as one contrite?
If so my dear, stand in the light of day
and see my heart is truly black as night.
Our future, we once took care to handle –
an embryonic shell that carried life.
It promised by the light of a candle,
that we were meant to give this soul its breath.
But you my dear have chosen to be deaf.
So it is left for me to salvage growth
From beneath the wall, where soldiers take leave
to put things back together; not to loath.
So with my small army, of closest friends,
I’ll make a life – who needs your failed amends.
The hero flies!
As tasks lay before me in growing mounds.
I close my eyes and sip the last sweet taste
Of this Saturday morning lethargy.
My mind slips silently and gently back
To times when red capes made it all seem right.
No task too great, no feat to tall, I’d fly.
My hands thrust before me; adventure bound.
My cape streaming behind skinny shoulders.
White bonds underwear outside of blue shorts.
“What are you doing up on the roof Dad”?
Usually I am just in the way,
Today it’s the same and I zoom away.
My puny legs pump, my eyes wide open
Off to find a damsel who’s in distress.
“Need a hand Mum, I can carry the clothes”?
I dropped them last time onto the wet grass
So this maiden rejects the brave call.
This reverie’s broken by pounding feet
My family is home, the shopping is done.
The lawn is before me, unkempt and brown
There are hedges that stand loosely unpruned.
I long for times when red capes save the day
In the meantime, I’m glad I’m not shopping.
Autumn storm approaches Brisbane.
unexpected storm?
my sub-tropical city
fails to get me home
(shouldn’t a sub-tropical city expect the occasional storm and have a transport system that copes?)
Poetry is my aeroplane 