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"eucalypts" poems
Heat beats down upon the street Birds too hot to fly, Blistered sand you cannot stand Drenched with sweat am I. Cows collect in shadow deep Panting sheep hang head, Goshawk flies in cobalt skies Hills of grass stand dead. Whisp of smoke, a puff of breeze Sirens scream in air, Running men in squads of ten Emerge from everywhere. Now the rising wind takes charge Runs with leaping flame Into crown of eucalypts To rage across the plain. Too late the tenders hoses pour, Too late the fireman’s shout Inferno hot has run amok And all control a rout. Generating mighty winds The fire charges forth Spiralling in furnace air To incinerate for sport. Vanquished men exhausted stand Watch with useless eyes, As raging flames consume their truck, Inside a good mate dies. A live thing in the burnished night It writhes and spirals high Across the flaring treetops Hot, red smoke fills the sky. As sudden as it starts, it stops A wind change in the air. Ravaged forest stark and black Hot ashes everywhere. Hills of cinders smoking now Stock in death’s repair, Homesteads rendered charcoal like Farmers in despair. A silence in the ravaged hills Birdless in the sky, Bushfire horror, death and smoke Enough to make you cry. Marshalg In support of my Australian brethren and their torched nation. 30 January 2013
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Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 8:16 PM UTC
Bushfire
Among the blight-killed eucalypts, among trees and bushes rusted by Christmas frosts, the yards and hillsides exhausted by five years of drought, certain airy white blossoms punctually reappeared, and dense clusters of pale pink, dark pink-- a delicate abundance. They seemed like guests arriving joyfully on the accustomed festival day, unaware of the year's events, not perceiving the sackcloth others were wearing. To some of us, the dejected landscape consorted well with our shame and bitterness. Skies ever-blue, daily sunshine, disgusted us like smile-buttons. Yet the blossoms, clinging to thin branches more lightly than birds alert for flight, lifted the sunken heart even against its will. But not as symbols of hope: they were flimsy as our resistance to the crimes committed --again, again--in our name; and yes, they return, year after year, and yes, they briefly shone with serene joy over against the dark glare of evil days. They are, and their presence is quietness ineffable--and the bombings are, were, no doubt will be; that quiet, that huge cacophany simultaneous. No promise was being accorded, the blossoms were not doves, there was no rainbow. And when it was claimed the war had ended, it had not ended.
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2.2k
In California During the Gulf War
It is late dry season. The creek bed an empty, rocky, Corridor to remaining pools. Climbing a slight crest, An improbable rock, Artfully shaped and poised, Balanced atop a tall pillar, Reveals the hand of nature. Below rock ledges polished By water and burnished by sun Lies a deep pool of clear water. Lilly pads float on long tendrils. Purple lotus flowers open to the sun. In the water, the Lilly pads, Impossibly green, cling To the surface, on which Water skimmers dart to and fro, Dragon fly hover, and lazy fish Swim by, all unperturbed by the floating human. Across the pool's outlet, tall saplings Of grevillea sway in the light breeze. Parrots balance in the swaying tops, Their orange shoulder colours Match the grevillea flowers. A lone fruit bat, separated From the colony, climbs hand Over hand, up and down branches, To share the nectar. In the afternoon shade Of paper bark trees and White barked eucalypts, Sitting on the smooth rock, Which gives comfort without Being comfortable, the warmth Of the rock against wet skin Links us to others who have lain here Sharing these sensations.
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Aug 17, 2016
Aug 17, 2016 at 10:16 PM UTC
Lilly pond below balancing rock
it appears as though there was a coup, in kookaburra land, this morning. much fuss, and cacophony. as the brown and blue kingfisher clan, reassembled, their royal court. the big old king, uncurled his talons, unfurled his wings, gave one last, manical chuckle.... and fell from his perch. to lie still, upon the dusty, brown earth. shocked, silence for some seconds, and then... the eucalypts erupted into, (what would appear to the outsider); cold calculating mirth. as the young jacko princes, all began the joking joust for the top place berth. in a melee of swooping, chuckling grace, a contest no less, set to test.... mettle, worth and cackle call. each young bird, takes to the wing and flies into the maddening...and how close, how loud, how startling, they can be. is made known, by those, whose years, have flown. when all, is said and done. tourney overflown, feathers are preened. then the winner is presented, with opportunity, bold.... to nest the queen. as to the rest, they take their place, in the chaotic, cackling, cacophonous, kookabuurra clan nests. to bide their time, until, the next coup, comes calling...
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Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 6:11 PM UTC
coup
The cottage stood at the outer edge Of the village of Helsomewhere, It held a slate on the garden gate That scribbled a ‘Don’t Go There!’ It housed a cat and a resident bat And something that moved within, A thing unseen that was quite unclean With various types of sin. The folk that entered the garden gate Had never gone back there twice, When asked, they shuddered enough to state ‘It’s something that isn’t nice!’ The weeds were thick in the garden, and Had grown right over the path, And filled with sand by an old wash-stand The remains of an iron bath. Nobody walked the bullock track That led by the old front door, To go to town, they’d hurry around A path that was there before, The cottage stood like an ancient crone That blighted the village scene, A pointing finger, pared to the bone Reminding them what had been. At night the Moon rose over the ridge And it cast an evil glow, Down through the leaves of the eucalypts To the cottage, far below, The windows looked like a pair of eyes As they stared out through the gloom, While something was rushing around inside Like a demon in a tomb. ‘Perhaps we ought to have burnt it,’ Said the senior councilman, ‘It stands alone as our conscience,’ said The crusty old farmer, Stan, ‘We have to bleed for our own misdeeds, Including a lack of care, Each scream was seen as a nightmare dream When Lloyd was living there.’ When Lloyd was hosting his dinners for The girls from a nearby town, Nobody seemed to question them For Lloyd was always a clown, But screams would happen at midnight And would often be heard at dawn, When Lloyd was digging his garden patch By the light of the early morn. And Lloyd would wave to his neighbours as They hurried along his way, Give them a cheery greeting, crack a joke And say ‘Gidday!’ They didn’t suspect that evil lay Inside in that old tin bath, The one that is filled with sand, and now Sits there, outside by the path. One night the villagers crept on out, And they took it each by turn, To set a brand to the cottage, then Stand back to watch it burn, But something was rushing about inside In a black and evil cloak, While screams had seemed to come in a tide With the dark and acrid smoke. The embers were floating far and wide In the haze of a Harvest Moon, They set up fires in the eucalypts That rained in the village gloom, And every cottage went up in smoke For the villagers’ part, they share In the deaths of thirteen innocent girls In the Hell of Helsomewhere! David Lewis Paget
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Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 8:05 PM UTC
The Village of Helsomewhere
The cottage stood at the outer edge Of the village of Helsomewhere, It held a slate on the garden gate That scribbled a ‘Don’t Go There!’ It housed a cat and a resident bat And something that moved within, A thing unseen that was quite unclean With various types of sin. The folk that entered the garden gate Had never gone back there twice, When asked, they shuddered enough to state ‘It’s something that isn’t nice!’ The weeds were thick in the garden, and Had grown right over the path, And filled with sand by an old wash-stand The remains of an iron bath. Nobody walked the bullock track That led by the old front door, To go to town, they’d hurry around A path that was there before, The cottage stood like an ancient crone That blighted the village scene, A pointing finger, pared to the bone Reminding them what had been. At night the Moon rose over the ridge And it cast an evil glow, Down through the leaves of the eucalypts To the cottage, far below, The windows looked like a pair of eyes As they stared out through the gloom, While something was rushing around inside Like a demon in a tomb. ‘Perhaps we ought to have burnt it,’ Said the senior councilman, ‘It stands alone as our conscience,’ said The crusty old farmer, Stan, ‘We have to bleed for our own misdeeds, Including a lack of care, Each scream was seen as a nightmare dream When Lloyd was living there.’ When Lloyd was hosting his dinners for The girls from a nearby town, Nobody seemed to question them For Lloyd was always a clown, But screams would happen at midnight And would often be heard at dawn, When Lloyd was digging his garden patch By the light of the early morn. And Lloyd would wave to his neighbours as They hurried along his way, Give them a cheery greeting, crack a joke And say ‘Gidday!’ They didn’t suspect that evil lay Inside in that old tin bath, The one that is filled with sand, and now Sits there, outside by the path. One night the villagers crept on out, And they took it each by turn, To set a brand to the cottage, then Stand back to watch it burn, But something was rushing about inside In a black and evil cloak, While screams had seemed to come in a tide With the dark and acrid smoke. The embers were floating far and wide In the haze of a Harvest Moon, They set up fires in the eucalypts That rained in the village gloom, And every cottage went up in smoke For the villagers’ part, they share In the deaths of thirteen innocent girls In the Hell of Helsomewhere! David Lewis Paget
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73
A fish out of water slaps for the wet familiar as first rainbow gasps for all colour beneath evergreen eucalypts and boy becomes hunter. White flesh in the pan rainbow now grey; a dull eye pops in the fat. The first meal of camp "We're all about survival" says the voice from the beard. In that first howling night the tent holds no echo: a cocoon of down muffles the want of a scream for mother’s goodnight. Terrain is now is real and not just a geography lesson. When morning arrives relief and sunlight slap awake the face of survival. Mosquitoes frustrate the zippered gauze, march-flies marshal to march. Wisps of gum-smoke, the smell of the wild, steam from hot-streams on tussocks, beans in the pannikin, dust in the billy, leaves of tea and gumtree chase the boil. Longer walk today; boots even more ready for rubbing off skin. Fourteen miles to the next creek and next water. Ache in the pack No rest only winter. The dingo pads on. Wild boar root en mass. Wombats rummage the banks. Wallabies thump up the ridge-line. "We’ll circle our tent-line and raise tonight’s fire after dark." Says the beard and walks on. The hunter Seeks now no quarry Dreams the snap of a soft sheet and mouths words for the water of home.
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Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 10:37 PM UTC
A Fish Out
Cedar Creek a moonlit evening looking up into sparkling eucalypts After rain The moon is reflected In every droplet On every leaf, Simplicity has sent her messengers With the brush and rustle of an evening breeze These celestial missives begin to fall To leave the moon more eminent MChallis © 2015
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Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 7:50 PM UTC
After Rain
He hadn’t lived in the world of men Since he’d tossed his job, and quit, He’d told his boss, ‘There’s no future here And so, here’s an end of it!’ The grimy city was getting him down And the noise was driving him spare, So he said goodbye to the world of fumes To head for the open air. He found a tumbledown cottage that Nobody seemed to own, The roof was keeping the weather out So he thought to call it home. He cobbled together some furniture, A bench and a rustic chair, And sat in the shade of the eucalypts, And bagged the occasional hare. The cottage was back off an ancient track Unsealed, and long out of use, The nearest cottage a mile away In a similar state of abuse, The pioneers had been and gone Leaving just these standing stones, A testament to a rugged life, They were now just piles of bones. Though at first the silence suited him It would give him time to think, He would lie at night awake and cite That the sky was made of ink, An ink shot through with pinpricks so That the stars came shining through, And feel, as the Autumn dampness fell On his face as morning dew. But Autumn shivered to Winter and It would rain and pour for days, He’d look on out to the distance where All he could see was haze, He’d keep a fire in the ancient hearth With wood, when it wasn’t wet, And curse himself for short-sightedness When it was, or he’d forget. Then his hearing tuned to the many sounds That he’d missed before in the bush, The slightest sound of a twig that cracked Or a breath of wind, at a push, He heard the echo of silences That whispered over the plains, A spirit stirred that he’d never heard Before, in his city pains. But someone back in the world he’d known Was worried that he had died, And found the tumbledown cottage where His friend was lying inside. He wouldn’t answer his queries when He spoke in a human voice, Such sounds were strange to a mind that ranged When given a different choice. Then the doctors came to check on him And the police turned up en masse, They said, ‘We’re having to take him in, He’ll harm himself at the last.’ But he raised one hand when they closed on him In a manner distinctly odd, And whispered ‘Hush! If you strain you just Might hear the voice of God!’ David Lewis Paget
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Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 5:03 PM UTC
The Recluse
He hadn’t lived in the world of men Since he’d tossed his job, and quit, He’d told his boss, ‘There’s no future here And so, here’s an end of it!’ The grimy city was getting him down And the noise was driving him spare, So he said goodbye to the world of fumes To head for the open air. He found a tumbledown cottage that Nobody seemed to own, The roof was keeping the weather out So he thought to call it home. He cobbled together some furniture, A bench and a rustic chair, And sat in the shade of the eucalypts, And bagged the occasional hare. The cottage was back off an ancient track Unsealed, and long out of use, The nearest cottage a mile away In a similar state of abuse, The pioneers had been and gone Leaving just these standing stones, A testament to a rugged life, They were now just piles of bones. Though at first the silence suited him It would give him time to think, He would lie at night awake and cite That the sky was made of ink, An ink shot through with pinpricks so That the stars came shining through, And feel, as the Autumn dampness fell On his face as morning dew. But Autumn shivered to Winter and It would rain and pour for days, He’d look on out to the distance where All he could see was haze, He’d keep a fire in the ancient hearth With wood, when it wasn’t wet, And curse himself for short-sightedness When it was, or he’d forget. Then his hearing tuned to the many sounds That he’d missed before in the bush, The slightest sound of a twig that cracked Or a breath of wind, at a push, He heard the echo of silences That whispered over the plains, A spirit stirred that he’d never heard Before, in his city pains. But someone back in the world he’d known Was worried that he had died, And found the tumbledown cottage where His friend was lying inside. He wouldn’t answer his queries when He spoke in a human voice, Such sounds were strange to a mind that ranged When given a different choice. Then the doctors came to check on him And the police turned up en masse, They said, ‘We’re having to take him in, He’ll harm himself at the last.’ But he raised one hand when they closed on him In a manner distinctly odd, And whispered ‘Hush! If you strain you just Might hear the voice of God!’ David Lewis Paget
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65
Eucalypts hang from blue sky railings The mud is dry, ground is hard The white ute in the garden is silent I love the sound without wind blowers and lawn mowers Words are gathering at Newstead anarchists too A short story tattoo Ideas are crowded and loud galloping around the racetrack But it's quiet here at the Mudhouse with the brown dog in the garden
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May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 6:31 AM UTC
Mudhouse
distant trucks thunder, echoes rolling to highways. rumble of an infinite snake re-forms. bulb of early winter flicks a chill dawn switch. diet rest. roused by masculine weakness. mind a Geiger lost to solace. months before, witness to birds searching for a weathered nest returned to twigs. building new shelter, stick by stick, between protected branches. family of fledglings waits & squawks for bugs & worms. engineer’s toil of wings, claws & beak, gathering remnants from eucalypts, weaving & melding a fragile & gradual shelter. morning sheds light, more cars hum, the reptile lengthens. blood streams through arteries to a vital ***** without heart, lungs gasp for breath. weary heads of commuters magnetized to caffeine spill from stations. roar of trucks, clatter of trains, buses hum and insecure shouts through wireless devices to invisible nobodies. green lights, red lights, chicken players. chaos of city stutters & halts, stutters & halts. sudden gust beats at coats and dresses, whips ‘round trousers. leaves limbo as autumn strips summer from trunks. a new nest hit by a violent burst tumbles, disintegrating to fragments.
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Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 4:02 AM UTC
Nests
Unseen snow below. Against the blue sky the burnt Bleached branches of eucalypts.
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Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 5:04 AM UTC
Photo