Category Archives: poetry

I Am Earth


Gleaned from Twitter in Sept, 2017.

I AM EARTH

I can’t remember the day when I was born
I can’t recall the creation of that very first morn
I have been through a lot of changes since that day
And I have decided that I am here to stay

Life has abounded on me for millions of years
But now I am changing, it brings me to tears
My temperature is rising and so are the seas
My air is polluted and I struggle to breathe

Ice shelfs are melting, glaciers as well
Eventually it’s going to be hotter than hell
My symptoms are there for all to see
And my condition is caused by humanity

I would be fine if it wasn’t for man
And that’s what is so hard to understand
I can exist without you, but not you without me
So shouldn’t you be taking better care of me?

I am the planet, third out from the Sun
There is no other like me, not a single one
Live on me and look after me, show your worth
For I am your life stream, I Am Earth.

Komrade (@recneps51) on twitter

Thoughts of Clancy in Modern Days.


With apologies to Banjo who, I am sure, would be as horrified as I.

 

I had written him a letter which I had, for want of better
Knowledge, sent to where I met him down the Lachlan, years ago,
He was shearing when I knew him, so I sent the letter to him,
Just “on spec”, addressed as follows, “Clancy, of The Overflow”.

And an answer came directed in a writing unexpected,
(And I think the same was written with a thumb-nail dipped in tar)
Twas his shearing mate who wrote it, and verbatim I will quote it:
“Clancy’s gone to Queensland droving, and we don’t know where he are.”

In my wild erratic fancy visions come to me of Clancy
Gone a-droving “down the Cooper” where the Western drovers go;
As the stock are slowly stringing, Clancy rides behind them singing,
For the drover’s life has pleasures that the townsfolk never know.

And I somehow rather fancy that I’d like to change with Clancy,
Like to take a turn at droving where the seasons come and go,
But the Overflow has now dried and the cattle all have died!
The country now is less than super, since townsfolk stole the bloody Cooper.

And in place of lowing cattle, he hears the bosses prattle.
‘No shearing now or droving.’ He breathes the feotid air
Of Centrelink and hears the Clerk. ‘It’s you’re fault you’re out of work!’
And the counter staff with no heart say, “Now welcome to New Start!’

Drinking Dec-ade


Collecting ripened decs
Then squeezing their juice,
Adding honey to taste
Making cups of decade.

Yet decs are rare
And in my life I
Have found just eight.
Each greedily drunk.

I have found too late
Decades should be sipped,
Not gulped down whole
As I seem to have done.

JEMcL June 2019

Rage Rage Against the Lying of the Right


First written in 2014. Time for a re-visit.

Image

After the Unlosable Election


Some Early Morning Chicken Sounds


I scawled this back in 2006. I think it is worthy of a re-run.

EARLY MORNING CHICKEN SOUNDS

The early morning chicken sounds
Mix gently with my coffee grounds
So ears and tastebuds waken while
My face breaks open with a smile

I have survived another night
And now can glory in the sight
Of growing trees and flowing stream
Now knowing life is not a dream.

One day I know I will not wake
Yet from this life I know I’ll take
The early morning chicken sounds
Mixed gently with some coffee grounds.

Evening in the City



Something from the past.

City Sunset

After a clear blue day some whispery clouds had blown in
There was just a little sunset red left above the city skyline.
Tall buildings were beginning to show their night-time finery,

Replacing the waving eucalyptic green of the trees.
The busy road traffic was tiring and outside the frame
The river ripples, reflecting the evening’s new darkness.

Moonrise is hours away and the stars are too far.
An Earth-bound firmament will suffice
To show me my city for the next few hours.

JEMcL, Dec, 2006