Gone

Gone

Admittedly it ranks a little lower

than the mystery of the Marie Celeste.

missing Malaysia Flight  A 370

or the disappearance of the Beaumont children

at our local beach on Australia Day

half a century ago

But I still want to know

what happened

to my snazzy blue, gold trimmed vest

I got for Xmas and took off for a shave

on Boxing Day

I only took it off for a minute

so I wouldn’t get it grubby.

Where did it go?

The Green Gazebo

The Green Gazebo: Remembered

A long time ago

I sat beneath the green gazebo.

Huddled in my ego’s coat

& this is what I wrote:

The Green Gazebo

We sat beneath the green gazebo,

Just me, myself and my ego.

We spoke of very many things,

How grief and joy both have wings.

We had so very much to say

And that is how we spent the day.

  • pic courtesy of pinterest

Guillotine

Guillotine.

Who devised you?

You look so cute

so placid

so trustworthy

warm wooden seat

on the toilet rim

but when I lift you up

to pee

you don’t stay up

like other toilet seats

but drop down

heavily

like something medieval

a guillotine

ouch !

Ruffians of the Lord

Huddled

in their rumble jackets,

burly,

growly haired,

they waylaid me

at the foot

of the jetty

proselytizing Jesus;

one thrust a pamphlet

in my face

& I waved it away

saying, not interested

& he said

in a thick Russian accent,

why you not interested

& the others milled around;

I dug my hands

into my pockets

& strode up the jetty

wondering what Jesus would make of

these ruffians of the Lord

Albatross

Albatross

You could have knocked me over with an albatross

when I heard that four off-kilter waltzes I was listening to

were by Samuel Coleridge Taylor. Hang on, I thought,

my favourite Romantic poet [ sorry Wordsworth] whom

I studied at Uni, who wrote one of the great lyric narratives

of all time, ‘The Rime of the Ancient Mariner’ was also

a classical composer? How did this just become known?

Did he moonlight as a musician, did he snuggle up

to the great composers of his time? But then the announcer,

as if reading my mind, clarified that the composer was

Samual Coleridge Taylor whom his mother named after

the great poet. After I calmed my farm, I settled back

and listened to more of Samuel C.

Secret

SEcret

I sometimes wonder who he was, that man who called at our place a few years after dad had died and mum had moved into a nursing home.

Did mum have a secret life?

We all need someone or something to keep us afloat.

Something in the Air

I don’t like the look of them

these runaways

the way they huddle darkly

in alleys,

in vacant lots amongst

the runtish grass

with their hangdog faces

and surly looks

they’re up to something

but if you edge closer to eavesdrop

they clam up

look at you with bloodshot

insolent eyes

what have they been drinking

smoking?

perhaps they are planning

a revolution

against their colonial masters

the supermarkets.

The Getting of Wisdom

Back in the seventies when I first

went teaching , I came across them ;

flimsy paper tickets as evidence you’d paid

for your journey on the tram or bus;

you’d turn them over discovering a world of wisdom:

‘it’s the spouting whale that gets harpooned’,

‘it’s not enough to point the gun , you’ve got

to pull the trigger’ ….. ‘the past is dead,

the future’s not here, the present is your home’ ;

little homilies to help you along life’s journey ;

I collected them all until they stopped using them —

then one day left them in a carriage and never

saw them again ; I was like a disciple

who had lost his guru ; I had to seek

other sources for the getting of wisdom .