The adolescent Currawong
not exactly stumbling or tripping
is parrot-like as a junior, a
hopper and stepper in
the art of stalking and hunting

In a series of quick-steps and bounces
she moves sideways, most emphatic as
a survival enthusiast

She gazes, investigates and gathers the curios,
insects, rich dark worms
one gesture at a time

She is vigilant and persistent
through the dust
the soil, the grass
with instinct and practise

through her teachers
she thrives

MChallis © 2015

Nerves are running wild,
my breath is slightly hitched.
Anxiety's creeping up on me,
I can barely think.

Afraid of disappointment.
Afraid to disappoint.
One step before the other,
prepared for someone new.

He charms me with a smile,
then extends a hand.
My palms are getting clammy,
and my pulse is racing too.

The breeze flows in from the door,
the sun is shining bright.
Currawong's singing in the trees,
With the aroma of bitter coffee.

We breeze through introductions,
sit and chat for a while.
There I thought it was going well,
until he developed a temper.

With no good reason he seemed to snap,
started causing a scene.
Sinked so low into my chair,
of course this happened to me.

Some time passed, he calmed himself,
but i think i'd made my decision.
got to the end and he turned to me,
"We should do this again".

"I don't think this is going to work",
I said sorry then took my leave.

And the zephyr teases,
Tossing to-and-fro saplings fresh'
Which tantalise the Currawong, cowering its call,
And glistening crystalline on dewy morn's.
---------
You *****,
You moan'
You complain,
And you whinge.
---------
Hello,
Can I help you?
Or, better still, can you help me?!?
I've lost my mind,
Though I'm never sure I possessed it;
And if I did - I regret its escape.
---------
The pretentious poverty of money -
They think they look good, but what's really funny
Is the narcissistic approach that they tackle life -
Like everything is owed and nothing earnt;
Lucky to live amid so few excursions into reality.
---------
240 volt vac, attached to one's ball-sack
Jaw slack until the power is racked -
Up goes your nuts and voice pitches
To new dimensions, shrill and pre-pubescent.
Tears that masculinity denies appear in the corner
Of eyes steeled, and vacantly appreciative.
---------
You, my friend, can kiss my ****,
The **** you speak is but a farce -
Unrelated to the life we realise, experience;
Alien to any who maintain their conscience.

Between grey sheeted sky, and
Grass green covered fields

Among dips and contours
Of clear rain water pools

Magpie and Currawong
Engage the other in carol and furtive call, in

Clear precise statements, morning reverie,
Tuneful trill and soulful segue, their

Full repertoire of robust conversation
Brings song, community and particular joy.


MChallis @ 2015

Our cat finds wildlife galore
And leaves it on the lounge room floor.
“Look what I’ve found,” he seems to say.
“Can I go out in the bush to play?”

He stalks, he leaps and claws them down-
All I can do is stand and frown.
The cat’s a cat- what can I do
When he brings me a currawong or two?

He’s at the door. What has he done?
He’s brought the possum population down by one.
A tiny corpse lies very still.
This one’s for me. The cat has had his fill.

“You wicked cat! Your hunting sense
is growing in its virulence.”
He turns his back to find me something new.
Perhaps he’ll hunt a great red kangaroo.