After 'To Joanna
In his company Joanna laughed:
Clear she thought that he was daft
When he heard the mountains laughing
In his ravishment of mind.
Now the vicar who'd upbraided him
For carving in the rock
Upon whose meditation
The ravishment occurred,
Instead of laughing loudly
At his loftiness of word,
Smiled and looked astonished
Thinking, 'Jackass of a bird.'
Realising that he'd lost him
The poet came to earth,
Told the vicar in plain language
Of Joanna's certain anguish
As she drew into his side
For fear of something that she heard
But to which could put no word.
Now she's gone back to the city,
I miss her laughter, that's the pity.
That's why 'JOANNA'S ROCK'
Is what he's chiseled,
This jackass of a bird.
I wrote this in October-November 2011 mainly in my bed in Adelaide
after reading Wordsworth's
'To Joanna'. The thought about the jackass (kookaburra) I put into
the mind of the vicar comes from an
experience in which I was camping with a friend. Our tent blew in on us one
night and we couldn't be bothered getting out to re-erect it. Instead my friend
laughed hysterically all night. Next morning I overheard the man in the
nearby caravan muttering that if he'd had an axe he'd have killed that
laughing jackass last night.
My friend was like the poet, I was like Joanna, amused by rapture, and
the guy in the caravan was the vicar.
poem by Douglas Scotney
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To Joanna
Amid the smoke of cities did you pass
The time of early youth; and there you learned,
From years of quiet industry, to love
The living Beings by your own fireside,
With such a strong devotion, that your heart
Is slow to meet the sympathies of them
Who look upon the hills with tenderness,
And make dear friendships with the streams and groves.
Yet we, who are transgressors in this kind,
Dwelling retired in our simplicity
Among the woods and fields, we love you well,
Joanna! and I guess, since you have been
So distant from us now for two long years,
That you will gladly listen to discourse,
However trivial, if you thence be taught
That they, with whom you once were happy, talk
Familiarly of you and of old times.
While I was seated, now some ten days past,
Beneath those lofty firs, that overtop
Their ancient neighbour, the old steeple-tower,
The Vicar from his gloomy house hard by
Came forth to greet me; and when he had asked,
"How fares Joanna, that wild-hearted Maid!
And when will she return to us?" he paused;
And, after short exchange of village news,
He with grave looks demanded, for what cause,
Reviving obsolete idolatry,
I, like a Runic Priest, in characters
Of formidable size had chiselled out
Some uncouth name upon the native rock,
Above the Rotha, by the forest-side.
--Now, by those dear immunities of heart
Engendered between malice and true love,
I was not loth to be so catechised,
And this was my reply:--"As it befell,
One summer morning we had walked abroad
At break of day, Joanna and myself.
--'Twas that delightful season when the broom,
Full-flowered, and visible on every steep,
Along the copses runs in veins of gold.
Our pathway led us on to Rotha's banks;
And when we came in front of that tall rock
That eastward looks, I there stopped short--and stood
Tracing the lofty barrier with my eye
From base to summit; such delight I found
To note in shrub and tree, in stone and flower
That intermixture of delicious hues,
Along so vast a surface, all at once,
In one impression, by connecting force
Of their own beauty, imaged in the heart.
--When I had gazed perhaps two minutes' space,
Joanna, looking in my eyes, beheld
That ravishment of mine, and laughed aloud.
The Rock, like something starting from a sleep,
Took up the Lady's voice, and laughed again;
That ancient Woman seated on Helm-crag
Was ready with her cavern; Hammar-scar,
And the tall Steep of Silver-how, sent forth
A noise of laughter; southern Loughrigg heard,
And Fairfield answered with a mountain tone;
Helvellyn far into the clear blue sky
Carried the Lady's voice,--old Skiddaw blew
His speaking-trumpet;--back out of the clouds
Of Glaramara southward came the voice;
And Kirkstone tossed it from his misty head.
--Now whether (said I to our cordial Friend,
Who in the hey-day of astonishment
Smiled in my face) this were in simple truth
A work accomplished by the brotherhood
Of ancient mountains, or my ear was touched
With dreams and visionary impulses
To me alone imparted, sure I am
That there was a loud uproar in the hills.
And, while we both were listening, to my side
The fair Joanna drew, as if she wished
To shelter from some object of her fear.
--And hence, long afterwards, when eighteen moons
Were wasted, as I chanced to walk alone
Beneath this rock, at sunrise, on a calm
And silent morning, I sat down, and there,
In memory of affections old and true,
I chiselled out in those rude characters
Joanna's name deep in the living stone:--
And I, and all who dwell by my fireside,
Have called the lovely rock, JOANNA'S ROCK."
poem by William Wordsworth
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Joanna
Please dont ask me what went wrong
I never planned it to come out like this
Silent moments, thoughtless words
I never wantedthese memories
Joanna
I love you so
Dont wait for me joanna
I never meant to hurt you so
But now I have to let you go
Dont wait for me joanna
Ill always say a prayer for you
And hope some day that you
Will found true love
When as children we used to play
We sat and wondered where wed be today
I said wed never be apart
But now we lie among the broken hearts
Joanna
I love you so
Dont wait for me joanna
I never meant to hurt you so
But now I have to let you go
Dont wait for me joanna
Ill always say a prayer for you
And hope some day that you
Will found true love
Dont wait, no no
Joanna
I cant let go, no
Dont walk away joanna
I never meant to huert you so
But now I know I cant let you go
Dont walk away joanna
Ill always say a prayer for you
And I hope that you will find
In me true love
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rose Across The Sea
For My Good Friend JoAnn McGrath
Not so long ago I was joking
with a young lady across sea.
I told her that I was a vicar,
or at least pretend one.
My name was Dodgy Dave the Vicar.
A little while later
she wrote a poem aptly named,
The Vicar Is Quicker.
Since then she has written
quite a number more.
I tell her a funny story about me.
No sooner do I tell her the story
it appear as a Dodgy Dave Poetry.
In the time I have known her
not once have, I wrote a poem for her,
that rose across the sea.
She thinks of me as her big brother.
I find that as a compliment you see,
as my own real sister
does not want to know me.
Therefore, I have an adopted one
far away from me,
a rose across the sea.
Therefore, Joann
this poem is just for you,
from your friend,
that Dodgy quicker vicar
who rhymes with liquor.
A substance he never touches,
but I will raise my cup of tea
and say again,
this poem is just for you,
my rose across the sea.
poem by David Harris
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The Time Has Come...
The vicar went to the valley,
A mountain on either side,
He built a small log cabin
To comfort his future bride,
The wind between the mountains
Brought echoes of far-off plains,
More often than not in the heart of the night,
Someone called his name.
The voice was sometimes muffled,
The voice, it sometimes screamed,
Whole sentences were chanted
Broke in on the vicar's dreams,
The sounds were like a mirage
Half heard from a distant town,
Whenever the wind would begin to rise
He heard the strangest sounds.
A tap-tap-tap in the morning,
A tap-tap-tap at night,
As if someone was typing
Up on the mountain's height,
The rhythm was pervasive
As it typed some ancient log,
He heard the words: 'The quick brown fox
Jumps over the lazy dog.'
He ran from out of the cabin
And scanned the dusty plain,
His trusty dog was lying
Asleep on the track again,
When out from the brittle bushes
Aside of the narrow track,
A quick brown fox with a startled look,
Jumped over his old Ridge-back.
The vicar ran to the cabin
And fell on his knees in prayer,
What are you trying to tell me, lord,
That you're really, really there?
I thought you were, but I wasn't sure,
It'll take some getting used to!
A voice intoned: 'England expects
Each man to do his duty! '
The vicar jumped up off his knees
And praised the lord again,
You've saved my very soul, my lord,
From Hell, and the pits of pain,
I'd thought that God was mine alone,
And not for everyone,
But now I find - and it blows my mind;
'God is an Englishman! '
The wind was slowly rising,
It whined and whooped and roared,
It swooped along the valley,
Came in at the cabin door,
The vicar, sleeping restlessly
Heard everything, hale and hearty:
'The time has come for all good men
To come to the aid of the party.'
The vicar's not been seen of late
He's busy, light and dark,
With hammer, nails, and canvas sails
He's building himself an Ark,
While in a tiny township that
Lies hidden in mountain haze,
A typing teacher has just locked up,
And gone on his holidays.
12 April 2008
poem by David Lewis Paget
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After 'A Narrow Girdle of Rough Stones and Crags
In company of quite different take
The poet went out dawdling
Down by Grasmere Lake.
Dead calm the lake, no wind.
With no Joanna to mock
At the base of the rock,
All three flew fancy free,
William and Dorothy, STC,
Idled in the land of Poesy:
Osmunda fern became a Naiad Queen,
A fisherman miraged ahead
Was Freedom at his leisure.
But when up close, their fancies fled,
Self-reproach replaced their pleasure.
The fisherman was sick and gaunt,
Freedom just a taunt,
Dead the lake, no care.
POINT RASH-JUDGEMENT's what
They named the spot.
Had I put in my tuppence
The point might be COMEUPPANCE.
(STC is Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Dorothy is Wordsworth's sister)
This poem follows on from 'After 'To Joanna''
poem by Douglas Scotney
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We Couldn't Stop Laughing
we hid out in my room
we ate candy
and we couldn’t stop laughing
we joked around
we told our stories
and we couldn’t stop laughing
we looked into the distance
we opened the window
and we couldn’t stop laughing
there was a UPS truck
i stuck my feet out the window
thinking it was a trash truck
and we couldn’t stop laughing
we looked at old yearbooks
we told “do you remember when” stories
and we couldn’t stop laughing
we laughed at each other
we laughed at ourselves
and we couldn’t stop laughing
we laughed at the past
at the present and future
so as friends,
we couldn’t stop laughing
Kookaburra Bird Of Prey
Hear the kookaburra calling at the dawning of the day
Laughing loudly on the gum trees in October morning gray
Little song birds screaming loudly kookaburra they all say
We don't want you on our gum trees from our valley clear away.
Scolding blackbird acting bravely kookaburra let us be
Last year you or else your kin bird killed and ate my family
But this year I'll protect my nestlings I'll protect them with my life
Don't you dare go near my children or their mother my dear wife.
But Kookaburra he laugh louder I am not afraid of you
I could kill you here this minute if I really wanted to
Getting tired of snakes and lizards need a tasty bite of meat
And a little pink skinned nestling would be very nice to eat.
Kookaburra laughing loudly monarch of all he survey
At daybreak in late October out in search of easy prey
Looking for nests on the gum trees out to fill his empty craw
With the flesh of little nestlings which he will eat warm and raw.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Vicar's Coming To Tea
Eh?
What's that you said?
Oh dearie me,
You told me the vicar's coming to tea.
What shall I wear, what shall we eat?
I'll have to go shopping down the village street.
What shall we say to him?
Think on it do!
He's more intellectual
Than me and than you.
Though wait just a moment,
I'm giving some thought
As to why we lament,
Just as if we know nought.
For we are all different.
Thank goodness for that!
Don't let's be diffident,
Or feel we are prats.
All humans have something
To offer you see.
The things we are good at
Will be different to he.
So I'm now looking forward
To taking his hat,
And sitting with vicar enjoying a chat.
poem by Rosi Caswell
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I shall omit former particulars, and begin with informing the Reader, that, in 1792, I was strangely visited, by day and night, concerning what was coming upon the whole earth.
quote by Joanna Southcott
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Unconventional
The day was cold but she was not in point of fact she was too hot.
So she stripped off all of her clothes because she chose to I suppose
Her neighbours thought it rather quaint but only one raised a complaint
The vicar did not think she should do her gardening in the nude
But she replied acerbically that if he did not want to see
Then he should look the other way. She did not tell him how to pray
He should not tell her how she must dress. For all his show of piousness
She had seen him gazing lustfully when he was no one could see
Upon young school girls passing by from whom he could not tear his eye. What right has he to condemn me when I display quite openly
All that I have quite naturally with no false show of modesty
I’m not ashamed why should I be.I am the way that God made me
But he conceals his prurience behind an air of innocence
By advocating nudity at least I’m acting honestly.
I have no time for pious frauds who secretly gain their rewards
by using their imagination to enjoy what they would dearly like to do.
I told the vicar to his face I thought he was a black disgrace
He mumbled something in reply but could not look me in the eye.
He knew I had divined his lustfulness. He knew I knew no need to guess.
He thought it best to move away but where he went I cannot say.
We have a lady vicar now who does not try to tell me how
I ought to dress for gardening.content to let me do my own thing.
She says that sometimes she, wishes she could act as naturally.
26-Oct-08
http: // blog my space.com.poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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I've got lots of good friends. I could have affairs. I can read a book all night, put the cat on the end of the bed. I can pick up my passport and go to France. I don't have to ask anybody.
quote by Joanna Lumley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Way Out
Honesty
Is all I wanted
But you couldn't give me that
You wouldn't let me go
But was still holding on
To your other past
Every word I said
Came from depth of my heart
Yours seem to have been
Only cold lies
My intention was not
To complicate your life
But with loving you
I did that to mine
A simple conversation
Could put things right
That would be my way out.
poem by Joanna Pavlides
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The Spirit of the Lord is with them that fear him.
quote by Joanna Southcott
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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0048 On First Reading Rilke
Out of the cage
you had not known you were in
with a freedom
beyond what you thought it to be
into the spaciousness
which was boundless
and a joy
which redefined itself day by day
around a firm centre
which was everywhere
for Joanna
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Song For Adam
Though adam was a friend of mine, I did not know him well
He was alone into his distance
He was deep into his well
I could guess what he was laughing at, but I couldnt really tell
Now the storys told that adam jumped, but Ive been thinking that he fell
Together we went traveling, as we received the call
His destination india, and I had none at all
Well, I still remember laughing with our backs against the wall
So free of fear, we never thought that one of us might fall
I sit before my only candle, but its so little light to find my way
Now this story unfolds before my candle
Which is shorter every hour as it reaches for the day
But I feel just like a candle in the way
I guess Ill get there, but I wouldnt say for sure
When we parted we were laughing still, as our goodbyes were said
And I never heard from him again as each our lives we led
Except for once in someone elses letter that I read
Until I heard the sudden word that a friend of mine was dead
I sit before my only candle, like a pilgrim sits beside the way
Now this journey appears before my candle
As a song thats growing fainter the harder that I play
But I fear before I end Ill fade away
But I guess Ill get there, though I wouldnt say for sure
Though adam was a friend of mine, I did not know him long
And when I stood myself beside him, I never though I was as strong
Still it seems he stopped his singing in the middle of his song
Well Im not the one to say I know, but Im hoping he was wrong
Im holding out my only candle, though its so little light to find my way
Now this storys been laid beneath my candle
And its shorter every hour as it reaches for the day
Yes, I feel just like a candle in the way
I hope Ill get there, but I never pray
song performed by by Jackson Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I never mind scrubbing floors, vacuuming or bending and carrying stuff. Each time I do it I think, this is instead of going to the gym.
quote by Joanna Lumley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In 1792, my Sister told me, I was growing out of my senses.
quote by Joanna Southcott
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Granny
Through every nook and every cranny
The wind blew in on poor old Granny
Around her knees, into each ear
(And up nose as well, I fear)
All through the night the wind grew worse
It nearly made the vicar curse
The top had fallen off the steeple
Just missing him (and other people)
It blew on man, it blew on beast
It blew on nun, it blew on priest
It blew the wig off Auntie Fanny-
But most of all, it blew on Granny!
poem by Spike Milligan
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Caravan
Moses went into the desert
Moses came back with the law
Jesus went into the desert
God only knows what he saw
Hitch up your ass and your camel
Fill up your skin at the well
Roll up your tent, whisper your prayers
Are you ready to ride through hell
Caravan moving through the night
Sleeping in the light of day
Caravan spinning through the void
On our way to anywhere
Caravan time is just a joke change is all we
Understand
Caravan life is a mirage,
Only a mirage dancing on the desert sand
How I recall all the mountains
How I remember the farm
Oh how I miss the big city
With a pretty girl on my arm
Sell my best friend for some water
Cut off my leg for some shade
Sunburn these thoughts from my memory
If I live I will be remade
The sand is like a razor
Slashing at my face
Everyones in panic but you cant see any place
Its a sand storm, taken by surprise
Hide beneath your wrappings and cover up your eyes
Well I lost my kit and camel
Maybe I will die
Feel so lost and helpless and I think Im gonna cry
Its a sand storm, nothing you can do
No one knows if it will last
No one knows if you will make it through
Its been so long without water
Vultures are filling the air
Where is that bloody oasis
Must be around here somewhere
Time for some strong meditation
Time for the ultimate change
Time to make peace with your maker
Everything has been prearranged
song performed by by Utopia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Another night I dreamed I heard heavenly music sounding in my ears, and a flock of sheep was gathering round it. When the music ceased, the sheep leaped for joy, and ran together, shaking their heads; and one shook his head almost off, and seemed to have nothing but ears.
quote by Joanna Southcott
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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