"constrictions" poems
Municipal Gum was written by Oodjeroo Noonecaal. Municipal Gum is about the changes in society and the tendency of people to want to control everything. Oodjeroo uses various techniques to convey this idea.
At the beginning of the poem Oodjeroo is addressing the tree. This immediately creates empathy for both the tree and her people. By the last line she has emphasised this with the pronoun “us” to show that they suffer a similar fate.
This poem expresses how life in Australia has changes especially for Aboriginal people. In the first half of the poem Oodjeroo is talking about how life was for her and others. It explores the changes in society and the displacement of the Aboriginal people from their land.
“Whose head hung…Its hopelessness”, the author uses this as further re-iteration of the immorality of the situation and by the use of analogy comparing the tree to her people to further emphasise the shame and lack control of that the Europeans have inflicted upon her and the environment.
Oodjeroo uses extended metaphor technique in the very first line of the poem ‘Hard bitumen around your feet’. This means that the gumtree has been placed in the city scape where it is suppressed and not allowed to spread out and be unique in its own way. This is clear and immanently direct link to the pain and suffering endured by the Aborigines post European settlement.
Oodjeroo uses vivid language to present these ideas. For example the use of the word castrated is very effective. The connotation of the word is very demeaning. With castration often comes a sense of a loss of pride and power. The word castration is symbolic of how Oodjeroo feels the European have treated Aboriginal people and the environment. Castration also refers to the fact that what is done is done. Nothing can undo what they did and the damaged they have caused.
Other symbolism includes the title “Municipal Gum”, municipal meaning community, implies that the gumtree belongs to the community. One of the vast differences between European and Aboriginal law is that Aboriginal people did not believe in the ownership of land or of animals and plants. Municipal Gum is a reference to the Europeans assumptions that everything is theirs to own and control.
The rhetorical question, “O fellow citizen, What have they done to us?” is the conclusion of the implications that have been made throughout the poem. Oodjeroo, is advocating for her people and all things wronged by the controlling behaviour of the Europeans. Rhetorical questions are used to provoke thought and to stimulate a pre-determined response. “What have they done to us?” They have “castrated, broken… strapped and buckled” and ultimately changed things to a point that they cannot be fixed.
In conclusion, Municipal Gum is a poem about the constrictions and change that the European invaders forced upon the Aboriginal community and the environment she believes that the Europeans have deemed themselves ever powerful and practice their power in a manner that is immoral.
Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 7:47 AM UTC
Reality is treacherous.
Its conformity is maddening, and the rules insanely sane,
The walls of uniformity are clouded with illusions that seem delusional,
And freedom and constrictions seem one and the same,
I am a dreamer, yet I fancy myself a creator,
I build worlds from the shards of a life that lacks flavor,
I prefer the freedom of love, hope and death,
And I crave the obsession of life and birth,
I am a dreamer, and so a world of facts and truths I shun,
I am a dreamer, a dying race, under the setting sun.
But the optimism of a dreamer is maddening,
Filled with hopes and dreams that are inherently saddening,
I am a wordsmith, a romantic and some might say a visionary,
Creating universes and queens from the extraordinary,
I am a romantic, and I desire the audience of the stars,
I am a romantic, and carved on the walls of my heart are a million scars.
I am a wordsmith, building walls from worlds torn at the seams,
I am a dreamer, fleeing from the banality of life through my dreams.
Aug 31, 2015
Aug 31, 2015 at 2:37 PM UTC
Alone, as it started, as it should be.
Into his hands i pass, gently.
His sand seeps into my eyes,
gritted and foreboding adventures await me.
18, the number of adulthood,
but never yet have I felt more a child in an adults world.
Judged as a mature spirit, that still heaps milo with milk,
and i sit, as the last hours of my childhood roll swiftly away,
tumbling, slipping through my open hands.
It pangs me with a sudden sadness that, I
finally an adult, have no constrictions to surround me,
only a number of roads, on which to start my adventure.
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 6:26 AM UTC
You can identify your own flaws by scrutinizing strangers.
I watched a woman
from across a platform
at the subway station:
Straight, dishwater-blonde hair
glimmering in the subterranean fluorescence;
striking posture—
a dancer's figure—
and a thrifty ensemble that bespoke good taste
in spite of budgetary constrictions.
She pulled a circular compact from her purse
the way people in films exhume a pack of cigarettes.
Then, in deliberate fashion,
she removed a pill and swallowed it.
Birth control is like receiving a governor's pardon
in the process of planning a crime.
I resent her having that kind of indemnity.
I pass judgment on assumptions of character,
high on the blissful soapbox of bigotry.
As that pill crested the ridges of her teeth
and met the soft tissue of her tongue, then esophagus,
my mind conjured a phantasmagoria of lewd images
on the surrounding subway walls--
more a reflection of my character
than hers.
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 11:49 PM UTC
**Path #1
Forgiveness is the sinking
head into heart..
The head dwelling in separation
concedes logic's demands
but confronting questions
time after time:
Why? and What?
Surrendering at last
to the sinking..
dissolving..
becoming..
the Heart...
Path #2
Forgiveness is downloading
of new software..
Our old software
employs the ego rampant
rendering forgiveness
a difficult dream
searching in forlorn places
finding only traces..
New software finds it all
Here and Now...!
Path #3
Real forgiveness is Now
not in time..
Events in the past
seeming in need of
forgiveness
are only known
Now..
and what of the Now..?
it's other name
our true identity:
Forgiveness...
Path #4
Chaos
is an iteration
of Forgiveness..
a shading and
concealment of
formulated light..
Our awaking brings
the repentance
the return
the feedback
to never absent
Forgiveness...
Path #5
A shock it is
to learn that
Forgiveness is not personal..
It is a realization
of a substance common
to all concerned
transparent and eternal
the real Self..
With that realization
duality of conflict
dissolves in the
Light...
Path #6
Quantum forgiveness
is the only
forgiveness..
A leap into
infinite non-locality..
The suddenness arrives
within painful progress
or perhaps
strangely enough
out of the blue...!
Path #7
Forgiveness
an experience of sealing
our separate brokenness..
It is mandatory..
Yet the sealing
can be accomplished
only by those who see
there is no need
for the sealing...
Path # 8
Immersed
in a separated
dualistic reality
seeking forgiveness
in thought and time
is not satisfying..
The lingering pain
from a fruitless search
for forgiveness in
all the wrong places...
Path #9
Forgiveness
is a restoration of
peace and happiness
with new clarity:
The Awareness of
peace and happiness
was never in need of
restoration...
Path #10
We need to see clearly
that all relationships
take place in
infinite Awareness..
But wait..
not in .. but as..
All those hurts
are constrictions
of Awareness
crying out their
illusory separation...**
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 12:04 AM UTC
In particular evinces of comparable obliviousness
To implications of extraneous misunderstandings
That bring a melancholy of limited constrictions
Makes one articulate anxiety in dazzling reform
Of vibrant linguistic experimentation of lawless incongruity
Resulting in rhetorical pyrotechnics that defy inflections
And a wild farrago of tongues that boast a fecundity of speech
Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 5:49 PM UTC
After spending days away from her,
Thinking I could resist her,
But now it's just her blood,
My throat aches for her blood !
Just a quinch of her blood and I can relax.
Her white skin,
Her hazel eyes,
And that scent !
Oh not the scent you're thinking about.
Her body odor.
It just drives me crazy.
I feel constrictions in my vein,
Making me wanna wail,
C'mon my love just a little of that blood,
I swear it'll finish the thirst !
Aug 22, 2015
Aug 22, 2015 at 7:50 AM UTC
I am a little bit brave
and a little bit afraid
I am my goddess and my moon
I am my silver spoon
elixirs
life potions
love potions
magic brewing
in a *** of desire
to be free
from the constrictions
that used to bind me
ladidee!
Nov 23, 2010
Nov 23, 2010 at 3:40 AM UTC
there's a tear in the fabric of time
and in your dress
of which i am sneaking glances through.
you'd look up for my response
I'd nod to the ground
(not quite at my shoes)
"The world will fall apart!
The universe is breaking!"
And I sit and lick my lips.
"What do we do?"
I pick you up, and tear you away
from the constrictions of all fabric.
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 6:09 PM UTC
a perfect
superstorm
it is called..
rare hurricane
tides and arctic cold..
converging
constrictions to life..
anger and blame
coloring
bitter divisions of
political discourse..
meeting 2012 expectations
some say..
environmental neglect
say others..
are these dark layers
superficial
life on edge
masking new birth...?
Oct 29, 2012
Oct 29, 2012 at 10:34 PM UTC
our conversations
contain both
light and filtering..
the words we find
express our meaning
one snapshot..
instantaneous filtering
of a clearer light..
our words are
moulded by gates
constrictions
words sometimes strike
rather than flow..
one snapshot
of who we are...
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 2:28 PM UTC
The sunlight finds a crevice in the blinds to peak through and nudge me as in lay asleep. I am awakened by the gentle touch of warmth resting upon my left eye and cheek. With my eyes still shut, the chirping of the birds is projected in a much more distinct sound. I can feel everything, it is all heightened. Nature rises from its slumber and begins the day's work. Soon enough the sun hits it's peak and I can no longer hide away in my bed, avoiding life. It is time to face the world head on, and show it some kindness. I hear there is such thing as good karma. It's not that I hate life, I just don't show it enough love. And I may tend to despise every person walking over others to climb the social ladder, but I do not neglect the beauty of Earth and it's reflections on a minority of the population. Sometimes, I feel as if nature is the only sense of sanity left in the world which has mutated into a world of insanity and anarchy. The clouds are hovering over my favorite dogwood tree just down below, at my favorite park. I try my best to not let the tight constrictions of my thoughts encumber me in my goal of appreciating all of life's offerings. Once I pass through another fleeting day, the sun disperses underneath the mountains before I get a chance to wave it goodbye. As the luminous moon introduces itself to the stars floating around in the sky, I fall into bed beside a man who shows me no affection. I drift off into a peaceful slumber as my pessimistic thoughts engulf my mind into a state of manic depression, and I hate everything all over again. I cannot wait until the sunlight warms my face the next morning. If I make it that far.
Nov 17, 2013
Nov 17, 2013 at 12:22 AM UTC
1 vowel
lies
no constrictions indicating syllabic peaks
like a
dot.
1 consonant
is
basically nasally flowing
pronounced at the front of the
tongue.
Both,
equally,
refer to letters of the alphabet.
correspond to sounds made ******
all along our way.
but, all vowels and consonants
without hearing their relevance.
are
deaf
and
dumb.
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 1:00 AM UTC
When I travel, I find home.
Home is so strictly defined and constricted
****** in, forced to **** in,
Constrictions put forth by suffocating friends
Where small towns tighten the rope
It has placed around my neck.
I am the dog on the leash that is surrounded
By every tree and every ball in the biggest park
Who is tied to the tree and forgotten
Beaten and told to stay.
We grow up being force fed the idea of thinking small,
Staying small, working small, living small
But this world is too big to live small!
I travel and find the people that I call home
I find the shacks and shanties and weathered souls
And every single person you and I will meet,
Mutual or not,
Knows something that you and I don't know
And if that doesn't spark enough curiosity,
Get out of the house.
There is so much to learn and so much to absorb
And maybe your house is your home
Everyone, at some point, has a home,
Some just travel with you,
Others you have to find.
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 8:53 PM UTC
There's an anchor in my chest,
and although it keeps me from drowning in these nightmare sweats,
my ribs are splintered,
my heart bruised from being weighed down so much.
I get a masochistic contentment from it, though.
There's a soft happiness I get from seeing
the small reminders of you that I see throughout my day,
although they inject adrenaline through my veins
and send constrictions through my lungs.
I've stumbled upon the gap where you normally walk
and I've fallen through the space you usually occupy.
I've tried to lean against the mere thought of you
but every time I've crashed against the cruel reality,
against the stinging realization.
I've become lost in these sheets,
trying to find you in the hole of my blankets
that caresses your curves and hugs your dimension.
I wish this anchor of my love hadn't fallen at your neck,
I wish my sentiment hadn't ****** you against a wall and bound you,
and it's not in the way we'd both prefer.
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 12:08 PM UTC
*This Is The Story Of Her, New-Fangled Eyes,
Filling Up In Valiant High,
A Sacramental Anticipation,
Victim Of Her Addiction,
Specter Amour Ensemble,
She Kisses So Gentle,
A New Found Glory,
Like What’s The Morning Story?
An Ark Of Optimism,
An Immortal Prism,
A Scope Of Life,
Enslaved To Her Emphatic Hive,
Imbibed Inside Her Metamorphosing Dive,
Eternal Sunshine Of A Spotless High,
Twinkling Fireworks Into The Duskiest Night,
Like The Sprightliest Light,
Painting Me In All Her Colors Of Life,
A Gorgeous Cognizance Blossoming Transcendence Of 90’s Summer,
As She Discos Like A Junior In Spring Summer,
Myriad Instants Of Her Untamable Beliefs
Driving Me In Her Upbeat Beats,
Infinitely Running On Repeat,
Scorching With Her Heartbeat,
An Amour So Sanctified,
Thrills Out All The Unrefined,
Cause To Major Redesign
A Cryptic Princess From Tomorrow Land,
Glued To Her Hand In Hand,
A Wish Of Hazel Eyes,
Relentlessly Every Night,
Cranberry Delights,
Mystical Highlights,
Etched With Infinite Scars Of Her Amours
Into Transcendent Clusters Of Her Own,
Engulfed In Her Moans In Rome,
Surrendered To Her Cryptic Heart,
She’s A Symphony To Mozart,
All She Gives Are Premature Ventricular Constrictions Every Infinite,
Till The Rest Of Her Lives*
- 04:21AM
Mar 4, 2017
Mar 4, 2017 at 5:53 PM UTC
canals and containers
vital constrictions to flow
these common constraints
we find widespread..
at start of each day
a humble cup we see
holding our morning tea..
those outward vessels
mirror many inside..
these carry surprise
in acquaintance..
not knowing 'til just now
their containment of
everflowing light..
our task..
with urgency now..
to focus awareness
on those vessels which
are ours alone..
we need a simple
introduction to those
avoided constrictions
each of us owns..
often painfully seated
in solitary places..
a dear friend's illness
with diagnosis fleeting..
in desperation at last
filtering years of
bedridden strife..
new awareness uncovered
a new container for her
illumined voice..
with gifts for many
journeys unfolding..
my own discoveries
from life's late
diggings
found vessels quietly
buried and residing in
military formations of
gold and gray and black..
these are holders now
of lights of new
scope and scale..
the vessels we own
are lined and defined
awaiting discovery
sooner or late..
illumined..
with healing in-sight
and we are enriched
in knowing
our vessels..our lights
are one...
Jul 21, 2012
Jul 21, 2012 at 5:03 PM UTC
... So now it's been twelve years...
Do you still live? We were torn from each other.
Can you still feel the constrictions of your heart
With every memory brought back to life?
And, sometimes, is the past so real, that you
can breathe the very air we breathed
- and feel my skin beneath your fingertips..?
In my world there is none replacing you
Though I have kept my paper dolls for comfort's sake
My cool resolve is straining.
I can still feel the cool coarse texture of your hair
-and long again for innocence.
Will I carry you in my heart unto my last days
Never knowing what was lost?
This forever unrequited love plays like a tragedy.
Shall we never know our hearts again?
Shall I always dream and awaken empty
-you in your world, -I in mine?
How shall we counsel our children- love our mates?
Are humans never to be allowed perfect love,
But forced to part and seek our surrogates?
I wish for you what I have not:
Conjugal bliss and total amnesia to past perfection,
Renewal of hope - for only that which is attainable
- and gentle sleep without dreams.
May 26, 2010
May 26, 2010 at 10:58 AM UTC
My counter sits patiently
as always on that square
waiting!
For chance of your die
to land you on a merciful
ladder.
I have risked my way
now just before the finish
No. 99
Slid down those reptiles
Escaped their constrictions
fought.
It wasn't easy, what is?
I understand your reserve
Honestly.
My game was easier
I had a more forgiving
Board.
Whispered once before
I will always be there, still plays
True.
Only together will I brave
No. 100, so my counter stays
Roll.
Dec 12, 2011
Dec 12, 2011 at 5:06 PM UTC
Criticism crawls uncontrollably through crevices left behind in the
Kinetics of my mind, the need, the severance of mind from body
Somewhere, they call, mocking and cutting but I try to ignore
The feeling that I am being watched, coddled, pacified,
Guided through life, one life. Only one try.
Shall I break free of the constrictions?
Movement will be my key
Never stop and they
Can't keep their
Grip on
Me.
Jun 29, 2010
Jun 29, 2010 at 11:48 AM UTC
Fix your smiles like sutures against my skin
pull back black hair, paint prides picture vain
he reignites present, sings such impeccable sin
as fresh pressed flesh weeps for him again.
I dissolve single stitches, you breathe them within
clasp palms and you sit, surrendering thy strain
raise wary hands to mine; all mine now to win?
you release, reach constrictions, rue me insane.
Keep rise rampant memory, fire fevered forged grin
best silent significance, now such rendered resting,
your words tripped dismissed long dead echoing din
riled love risked rages yes for true absence of him.
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 1:26 PM UTC
Taught through criticism
Thoughts were fuelled with cynicism
Feeling love was conditioned
According to our submission
We were imprisoned
In our minds where we envisioned
Better lives it became a mission
Tears, sweat and blood were always a given
But we've risen
Above these constrictions
Freed from our prisons
To make acquisitions
To make decisions
Based on valid reason
We were raised to be different
A generation of deliverance
That would
be of great significance
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 4:59 AM UTC
I divested myself
of the constrictions
of modern society
that suggests my curves
are borderline obese
but an artist eye
doesn't see this
It pictures the dips
and hollows of life
bearing another soul
over and over
Connoisseurs of Form
appreciate my nakedness
as I'm transferred to canvas
with pigments of ochre
and red and charcoal blacks
Smudges are incorporated
into telling lines that lie
But there are no easels
nor a paintbrush in sight
I'm standing naked under
a moon full and bright
for the sake of art
the only person painting me
in perfection
is me
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 11:14 PM UTC
*I'll let you get past
He said..
a narrowing trail
these constrictions
each and all
are miniature
black holes..
most plentiful now
our traffic snarls
scarcities abound
narrow painful news..
today's trail courtesy
an expanding gesture
in constricting times...*
May 18, 2013
May 18, 2013 at 6:27 PM UTC