"eucalyptus" poems
there was a little bear as lovely as can be
he was very cuddly. a koala bear was he
his home it was australia he lived in tree
roaming round the out back roaming wild free.
chewing eucalyptus his very favourite treat
his very favourite dish that he loved to eat
oneday while out walking on his little stroll.
he heard a wombat crying poor little soul.
wombat he was stuck there inside a bush
bear he got behind him and gave a little push
pushing wombat free he was stuck no more
wombat he was free like he was before.
they began to play as happy as can be
then both fell asleep beneath the eucalyptus tree
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 11:07 AM UTC
I have many koalifications,
Numbed by gum leaves, stupefaction,
Glazed by arid summer drought,
Real hot today, there's no doubt!
What's this? Black storm clouds?
Who said clouds were allowed?
Now there's rain a'drenching,
Oh, it's stopped, not worth mentioning,
There's a eucalyptus Petrichor,
I'll daze now, did it rain at all?
Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 4:33 PM UTC
(a diary for today)
a hungry man
on the corner
cinnamon graham crackers
mom, tattoos, and tears...
tears streaming
for death past
and death future.
for life future.
for life now.
gramma.
violet.
a child laughing,
laughing so hard she sounds
utterly maddened.
stories and lights and wax and
wretched, wretched
life.
Sep 18, 2018
Sep 18, 2018 at 7:49 PM UTC
a lover by day
and an artist by night
the epitome of perfection
let me paint you like you are
the heavenly piece of art you are
let the world see you through my eyes
the likes of an angel of love
sculpted by michelangelo
blessed by venus herself
brushstrokes simply cannot do you justice
50mm lens still cannot show the world the truth
cold clay cannot compare to eucalyptus eyes
forget these superficial takes
let's make art, my love
let's make love
Mar 22, 2021
Mar 22, 2021 at 7:55 AM UTC
Piano and guitar playing light songs
soft tape, fresh rain, streets oblique
christmas lights on her walls like she
lives in a dorm, eucalyptus smelling
fresco paintings with 666s on them
bring on the full Fall, dim cars
outside and their alarms or engines
in the pause of our sleepy conversations
we go in deep when we’re satisfied with
the noise we’ve made
Oct 16, 2018
Oct 16, 2018 at 2:48 PM UTC
I'm sorry dad, I'm sorry mum,
For these things that I do wrong.
For every smile that I can't give,
This little life that I can't live.
If you could look, through my two eyes,
Then I pray that you'd see why,
The sun will rise when I'm gone.
And when time will pass, and love will fade,
And these little things will all wash away,
I'll call home.
But this ain't goodbye, I'm still your son,
It's just these feet, they plead to run.
Through that sand, 'cross that sea,
Somewhere far away from me.
Where I can sleep amongst the stars,
Open oceans, and empty cars.
Dreams of swimming, on my own.
And when time will pass, and love will fade,
And these pretty things will all wash away,
I'll call home.
For then I'll be, sincerely me,
For like the tide my soul is free.
Salty skin, sun dried hair,
Lungs to breath that morning air.
That eucalyptus in the sky,
As laughing birds begin to cry.
And sunlight sings inside my bones.
And when time will pass, and love will fade,
And these pretty things will all wash away,
I'll call home.
May 16, 2016
May 16, 2016 at 7:47 AM UTC
As I lay beside my darling
On an early Sunday morn,
I could feel her rounded softness
Sleeping under blankets warm.
My mind caroused the memories
And loitered on it's way
And found itself deliciously,
Immersed in golden play.
I remembered something special
In the way my little boy would look
As his eyes rose up in wonderment
When I read his favorite book.
And the joy involved in feeding
A hungry little mouth
When the porridge spooned all over
From the eyebrows heading south.
A tantalizing moment
On the beach down by the sea,
In the warm December sunshine
With my happy family.
We were running in the black sand
Drawing circles with a stick
As the surging waves approached them
Laughing little boys were quick.
Laughing, happy moments
And some sad ones like the day
When dear old Meg, our Labrador,
Got sick and passed away.
Young Boaz in his sadness
Climbed the big tree to it's crown
And it took a lot of pleading
To persuade him to come down.
And young Solly played the taniwha
At the Cornwall Park school play
And a better taniwha has yet
To grace the stage today.
A natural in his element
This young comedian
So hilariously funny
As he drew the audience in.
The tender, loving moments
As we both strolled arm in arm
Through the verdant Ferntree Gully
With it's sunlit grace and charm.
And the towering eucalyptus,
Hanging wood smoke in the air
And the whiplash resonation
Of the lyrebird hidden there.
Of Buttercup's wild parties
When fancy dress was king,
When everyone would whoop it up
And laugh and dance and sing.
When mum's and dad's and little kids
All joined the happy throng
With spud mashing as a ceremony
And a night of fun and song.
Of sitting in the garden
With your feet up and a book
And a cold beer at your elbow
And a barbecue to cook.
With the easy feel of family
As they go about their day
And the joyous sound of summer
When two noisy tui's play.
Memories of yesterday
Moments in the life
Of ecstasy and agony
And wonderment and plight.
And the ordinary ness of everything
And the magic everywhere,
Like the auburn in the sunlight
As it strikes my darling's hair.
Marshalg
Mangere Bridge
10 October 2009
May 8, 2010
May 8, 2010 at 7:36 PM UTC
Koala, Koala, I see you there
you are a marsupial you are not a bear.
You live in a tree carry your young in a pouch.
Eat the eucalyptus unlike the potatoe on the couch
Koala, Koala, you see me
looking up at you in your eucalyptus tree
A Bear is not a Koala, and a Koala, is not a Bear.
I thought I would make people so very much aware
Koala, Koala you just eat leaves.
A Bear is an omnivore and eats what it sees
The Bear needs sleep and is going to be late.
As it settles down to hibernate.
Koala, Koala, I have held you so
like a baby in my arms
I daren't let you go.
Koala, Koala, up in your tree
My pictures I Still have of you and of me.
Oct 28, 2018
Oct 28, 2018 at 12:23 AM UTC
this swirling roaring wind that blows homeward from the sea
saltiness with eucalyptus blending in twisting my fear
the knots in my chest and stomach entangling
deadly mocktail of emotions surging
with every howling whoosh
a new green life falls breaking
life prematurely ending
storm violently shaking
every limb of every tree
an attempt to blow anxiety
into each living breath
a drenched vision
of a couple of crows
seemingly meditating
in the midst of the tempest
holding their own
***in the eye
of the storm
they find
Peace***
- Vijayalakshmi Harish
01.11.2012
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Nov 1, 2012
Nov 1, 2012 at 1:08 AM UTC
applying his
lingual buds
to the smooth
lush of her
thighs she rippled
as a lava lake,
no stone skipped
just
melting milk, lapped up
in hungry pulses
cream of silk
pounding thunder
in consonants of
taut skin drum
nuances in vowels
uttered in
animal dissonance
his bristled breath
all over her
fingers
salivary intentions
over rim of lip
feeding the emptiness,
a holy vessel
more ancient than
before time
now ready
to be filled by the
essence of feminine
pineapple juice drizzling
firebud glistening
in fuchsia exposure
open gateway
to divine outpour
a sacrificial altar
of unmasked psyche
completely stripped of
any pellicle
his palms firmly
planted in hot muscle
thumbs parting
glory's hole
deer at the saltlick
lost in the velvet
just pour it in
thick molasses
not stifling,
only honeyed bark
multi-hued like
eucalyptus deglupta
in buttery tips
dripping love,
all over her lips
and just like that, in
slick-painted dabs
of their own
acrylic-drip art
just like that
in the wild
and thick
explodes the ache
of her
ripped
apart
heart
Jul 14, 2017
Jul 14, 2017 at 7:09 PM UTC
In a blind of an eye,
we were flying with pigs
and swimming with pigeons.
Marching alongside famous carcasses
and singing gospels with the Pharisees.
We stood on water
and bathe on the pyroclastic flow.
A flock of ants gave us clothing,
as the army of sheep gave us a scolding.
We drank the Nile ‘till we got thirsty
and Bismarcked our way into the Revolution
and fought the Bolsheviks
alongside Lenin.
We cooked the ***
cooked it right down to the marrow
until we were walking down to heaven
to rescue Rasputin.
Overlooking eucalyptus groves,
we made love,
while they were out with bullets
searching for a truce.
Jan 16, 2012
Jan 16, 2012 at 1:40 PM UTC
I
The stars are double-weighted tonight.
bulging, beating, they sink
from their proper lurches.
One by one across the murky
evening they sputter out.
What natural light remains
seeps from that subtly gaudy
bauble of a moon.
II
Peeled eucalyptus, ice-plant, new-mown summer grass,
dandelion, sloping hill, carved stone bench,
the view, the reflected city-light off the bay water,
white-washed near-tenements.
I am firmly locked up, chained in a bone cage
of chemically manipulated cranial plates;
serotonin, synapses, dopamine, dendrite
create a web like seaweed constricting the sea;
this computer of a head calculates, oscillates,
and processes the sensory.
III
My body is a tattered jib sail
flowing in the light sprinkling rain:
the simmer of the gale:
a hollow cathedral abandoned
by the believers:
a vessel for my marrow:
an imaginary catalyst for profundity:
an incarceration: a hull of particles
arrested: some part of an experience.
Aug 25, 2012
Aug 25, 2012 at 1:46 PM UTC
Snuggled
Up to him
I feel just like
a koala bear.
Eucalyptus tree
Is he, always
making me
happy.
May 17, 2017
May 17, 2017 at 1:47 PM UTC
pouring myself over green candle magick
my hands are the warm wands
letting the healing eucalyptus fire
seep into my throat chakra
seep into the tulsi i’m brewing
the california poppy herb.
my olive leaf aligned in a
tipped isosceles
and your sound waves are
melting the part of my stone
wall that obscured self awareness.
but now, if just for a
few moments, i am
awake.
in the city it is the witching hour but
in the cosmos it is no-time
infinitytime
time is a river making
golden spiral waves
i am replenishing the circles
like ancient amber blueprints
now fated by the stars to be built.
poem for grimes ~~
Oct 19, 2012
Oct 19, 2012 at 1:19 AM UTC
Echoes of yesteryear’s
Blissful laughter
Fade away
As new profound
Sorrow blooms.
Disoriented in the murkiness
Of a wistful haze
Writhing in unending
Spasmodic aches
A new day is born
The mid-morning
Deceptive sunshine
Briefly kisses my skin
The sweet taste
Of what it means
To be human
The paralyzing
Feeling of unraveling
As the May icy winds whistle
Through the eucalyptus trees
Forbodes of calamity.
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 6:30 PM UTC
if I ever were a banyan
I would have soared high
enough into the blue sky
higher than any proud eucalyptus
grounded stronger than any other root
heavier than one hundred elephants
I would have grown upward
not in meters, but a couple of miles
too outreaching and lofty for men
for that might have been one reason
for nobody to chop my trunk
for no bird to ever become homeless
for then, men would've sensed and feared
the grand weight of my life
Oct 15, 2012
Oct 15, 2012 at 3:06 AM UTC
Take nothing for granted, little kids,
It was library day for our kids,
Lateral epic lit. for the kids,
(The kids' librarian was off her ****
Reading new wave kids' lit.,
Such as "Paddington was ******
Then there was a new book for tots,
Titled "RIP Spot",
And an epic for libraries to fill,
Called, "Bye, Bye, Blinky Bill."....
Now it's story time for tots,
Here's our new one, "RIP Spot',
(Lift the ***** there's the chaps),
RIP Spot, the street dog,
We dehydrated Spot,
(Life the ***** there's the chaps),
Froth, Spot, Froth,
Yes, read along, tots,
Read along, little tots,
We all starved Spot,
He was a street dog,
(Lift the ***** there's good chaps),
Rot, Spot, Rot,
Now we can count his ribs, dear little kids,
(Lift the ***** there's the chaps),
Happy maggots, Spot,
Spot is mort, poor Spot,
He was a street dog,
(Lift the ***** there's the chaps),
Mort, Spot, Mort,
Now Spot's on his way to Heaven,
His ribs were more than seven,
(Lift the ***** there's the chaps),
Have some flies, Spot,
Rot, Spot, rot,
They opened up the Pearly Gates,
Poor Spot wasn't too late,
(Lift the ***** there's the chaps),
Look at Spot's halo,
There's two more books to go,
Spot has sent us a card down here,
"F.U., Society, you didn't care,"
(Lift the ***** there's the chaps),
Rot, Spot, Rot,
You were a street dog,
Ooh, are you all sad?
Two more books in this bag,
Here's "Paddington was ******
(The kids' librarian is off her ****
We'll all read along now, kids,
Paddington was ******
The tots were, by now, totally miffed,
He was their childhood hero,
Now a drunken old dero,
Rolling around in the gutter,
An alcoholic ******
Society didn't care,
He was only a homeless bear,
Now the tots are totally miffed,
Paddington was ******
Now, here's our last epic book,
This one's worth a look,
"Bye, Bye, Blinky Bill,
His mother forgot the pill,
Perched on a tree up the hill,
Blinky Bill ran under a bus,
****** on Eucalyptus,
His mother forgot the pill,
So, Bye, Bye, Blinky Bill.
We took nothing for granted, let's say,
Kids' librarian got the sack that day!
Dec 18, 2015
Dec 18, 2015 at 6:15 PM UTC
Moon drops splayed themselves
as though crystal blankets on summers ethereal stream,
Violet memories traced her deep obsidian eyes
How she beseeched Lethe’s empty flow
Night stars dreamed of patchouli perfumed rhymes
Ebon blooms dance with dulcet tones,
And fireflies whimsically danced to tune
Unspent words whispered from bottles of hope stored,
Hypnotized by sweet bees, her heart swept laden fruit groves
─ As hunger ate her soul
Eucalyptus his breath against a smoked filled dawn
A wood fire burned and hands clasped content
Tender his silk fingers traced blush her lips,
Consecrated by night she devoured poetic blooms
Of gold the cauldron blazed how yellow the young flame
One drop be lemon acid boiled black she sang,
Tasting dreams on smoke tarnished in polished prose,
How she bayed to moon’s blueberry gaze and bled geranium red,
By his voice herbs and stones weep and she forgets
─ she forgets, only the night moon bleeds
© Arnay Rumens / A Sol Poet
May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 12:55 AM UTC
Eucalyptus filled air
Sheets of warm and cold air
Early tasmac drinkers
Weary eyed dads
Bye bye -ing mommies
Dung splattering cows
whipped pedigree dogs
Scared insects
Proud birds
Flowers with an attitude
The pig
A hero
Swarmed stinking
Dirtiest of them all
And a early morning feast
Charming brown eyed street dogs
Question marked trees
Washed pavements
Drooling men
Betel chewing glaring women
Girls in floral blouses sweeping
Sh -sh -sh -sh -sh
Autos rrrrrr
Shock absorbing nike shoes krr krr krrr krr
A cigarette ****
A sad memory
Pushed aside
By the brush of a hand
pushed to a remote corner
Hidden
another memory
a recent one
with a scaredy cat
Which i want to share and party with
Was vivid
Ornamented ladies
lighting lamps to a dead god
Guarded by vain priests
Obesience
and giving life
for people
Lost in hope and fear
A parallel existence
Corporates blaring into phones
Fit men playing tennis
Small sturdy grass
Petite flowers
Swaying and dancing
Everlasting
Everlasting ?
Is it a will or maybe or a should be ?
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 1:58 AM UTC
I love the majestic ugliness of the Eucalypt;
Aesthetically more appealing in its twisted, gnarled appearance
Than any uniform northern conifer;
Infinitely more adapted to the unforgiving antipodean climate
Than those idealised European deciduous living monuments
Still transfixing our collective view of how a tree should be.
Those dropping leaves allowing scenes beyond;
Those tendrils of bark denoting Darwinian fitness;
All tug at the heart of we new Australians,
Conflicted, as we are, by sensibilities born elsewhere,
But borne, nevertheless, into an Ancient Eden.
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 3:29 PM UTC
Sunlit faceted grass,
shimmers in the mist
as I slough off my past,
like a python sheds her skin.
Eucalyptus columns enchant
over the backdrop of clouds,
spilled over sprawling hills.
Like a mast catching wind,
like my hair,
I'm ready to set sail
away from this land,
but not from my people,
whose spirit will burn on
in the deepest part of my heart.
This desolate beautiful place
made me crazy,
and very polite.
I really like it like that.
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 4:13 PM UTC
I sit underneath
The shade
Of a Eucalyptus tree
Please Mr. Koala
Don't fall on me
So relaxing
And quiet
I feel a cool breeze
Ohhh goodness
Time to give my p****
A little tease
I stroke myself
With cocoa butter lotion
Up and down
Yes I am really
Going to town
I point my ********
At my own face
A big explosion
Yes I enjoy the taste!
Hehe
Jul 21, 2015
Jul 21, 2015 at 3:14 PM UTC
1.
Late-spring's dilemma
Is unabridged and sweet;
Beardtongues and fuchsias peer through grass blades:
Blotches on the bristly canvas.
Camellias? Still in April.
2.
Slices of rye shift on my plate;
Miramar’s war machines whip overhead;
My mouth opens into the Gulf of Kuwait;
The toast becomes
Moldering lips of Pendleton.
3.
There’s a single-story house on a hill
That to helicopters
Looks like an easel.
Great canyons open
To the south and west; the street clings to time—
A pianist’s metronome
Waltzes crosswise on an eardrum.
4.
The eucalyptus bends the deafening breeze.
Are you still dredging Coronado's cradle?
(The tide
Disintegrates the illimitable skyline.)
5.
An unlit Anza-Borrego beats about my ears,
Stars piggybacking the horizon.
The cacti shrivel:
Glitter in a hurricane.
6.
End-of-spring guesses
Prey upon a betrayer’s conscience.
Stilted, they flash ephemerally.
Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 10:04 PM UTC
my room holds your scent
like it's another being,
forming hands and lips
winking at me from under warm bed sheets
it whispers your name
a desire i've always known
but couldn't put words to it.
an unspoken holiness
,your name,
and i find my fingers steepling together
to kneel in prayer,
thank you for leaving
and always coming back
to give your smell
/ a body /
and a mouth.
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 5:45 PM UTC
I feel apart of this hick town place
Breathing in life, through open, clean air
Trapped by my mind in a wide open space
My granddad showed me on his Gum tree
The marks left by moths and beetles alike
I went to touch them whilst he let them be
The Scribbly Gum tells the same story
Our lives intertwined in memories
The aftermath of destruction, can be beauty
My chubby hands admire what my eyes miss
like a blind man hungry for the verse
I feel the indented trails, lead me into the abyss
I envy those tiny critters, hiding away
creating art without even knowing
One day I shall join them and there I shall stay
Dancing glimpses of times past
The smell of eucalyptus sticking to hot air
Pulling, aching strings of my childish heart
May 5, 2017
May 5, 2017 at 11:56 PM UTC