Our Maecenas
What! Don't you our Mæcenas know
The man who started, years ago,
Our Wild Australian Author show?
You don't? Your ignorance sublime
Exceeds - to use a Boston rhyme -
The taciturnity of time.
Well, there he is, across the way -
Tall, thin, and growing somwhat grey -
He has good reason, you will say.
He's entering a bookshop. Fine!
He buys a book. Don't make a sign!
Don't speak! Don't breathe! It may be mine!
Alas! The cover isn't blue;
It's green - it's Quinn's - I always knew
His taste was never sound and true!
We all have hobbies. Some endure,
Some pass. Australian Literature
Is his. He likes it straight and pure.
Those breezy gentlemen you see
Walk up the street so spaciously,
He started them; he started me.
My word! My oath, if that you wish!
I would have now been selling fish,
Or something hot and sausageish -
And friends of mine, with names renowned
Would now be driving picks in ground,
And hoisting New South Wales around,
If he - the Lord of the Event -
Had not appeared, pre-subsequent,
And given us encouragement.
He's now, you see, just skin and bone,
Yet once he weighed quite fourteen stone -
When he left coves like us alone.
And he was - breathe it hoarse and low -
A man of substance. This I know -
But that was several years ago.
Now was he thus to leanness brought?
What tragic Fate his sorrow wrought?
Alas! he read the books he bought!
And now he's growing grey and old:
But while he lives, we'll say: 'Behold!
One copy of our works is sold!'
He is the apple of our eye;
His health to us is precious. Why?
We have to live; he dare not die.
poem by Victor James Daley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Open Speech
Good friend of mine, you feel with me—
Your blood grows hot by sympathy
With something that I say or do;
Then speak—I want a word from you.
Let not the silence wrap you round
While you are living over-ground.
They say that earthly years are few;
Then speak—I want a word from you.
Perhaps I pass you in the street,
And when our eyes a moment meet,
I wonder are you wishing too;
Then speak—I want a word from you.
Are you, too, longing for a sign,
Yet fear to stretch a hand for mine?
What other am I writing to?
Then speak—I want a word from you.
Some way our thoughts together run,
Since both lift brow toward the sun
Beneath the self-same vault of blue;
Then speak—I want a word from you.
poem by John Le Gay Brereton
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I started off in England and very few people knew I was Australian. I mean, the clues were in the poems, but they didn't read them very carefully, and so for years and years I was considered completely part of the English poetry scene.
quote by Peter Porter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Iris
Not how you would be thought of, your color
Being grey, silky, like a second skin, your hair
Flecked with it. Now, hearing your way of saying
Iridescent while I read your poem, three years
After your death, I am compelled to check
You out in Ovid, Lamprière, Bulfin, then
A book of flowers, where I discover you
On marshy ground, not grey exactly—in fact
A pretty blue-grey, a quiet type, with a green cowl
To shelter the thoughtful inclined head.
Not at all the bright-winged messenger
Who’d drown the world if Juno put you up to it,
But a quiet sylph, who could color her message
With a sly tilt of the head, those grey eyes steady,
Lips pursed, making a pretence of kissing.
You could supply so many ambiguities—
Gradations and streaks and tones of grey and blue—
That for twenty years I saw your story told
Where the sky lay on the wintry hills, weighed down
With tears Mnemosyne allows for you:
Flower, messenger, poet.
poem by James Phillip McAuley
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Just A Little Sign
Here I stand alone again
Hundreds all around
Didn't come here to wake a friend
But to listen to the sound
Something's growing in my pants
As she looks into my eyes
Now I smile the whole damn night
But my dream acts cold as ice
It's time for just a little sign
It's time, make believe the world is mine
It's time for just a little sign
It's time, make believe the world is mine
Just a little sign
Shouldn't I dare to talk to her
But what is it I would say
Surely I'd look like a clown
For my smiles freeze on my face
It's time for just a little sign
It's time, make believe the world is mine
It's time for just a little sign
It's time, make believe the world is mine
Just a little sign
song performed by by Helloween
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Air That I Breathe
If I could make a wish I think Id pass
Cant think of anything I need
No cigarettes no sleep no light no sound
Nothing to eat no books to read
Making love with you has left me peaceful warm inside
What more could I ask
Theres nothing left to be desired
Sometimes all I need is the air that I breathe and to love you
All I need is the air that I breathe yes to love you
Just to have you now
All I need is the air that I breathe youre all I want
Peace came upon me and it breathes in me
Dont sleep silent angel dont you sleep
Sometimes all I need is the air that I breathe and to love you just to have you now
All I need is the air that I breathe yes to love you
All I need is the air that I breathe youre all I want
Sometimes all I need is the air that I breathe and to love you
All I need is the air that I breathe yes to love you
All I need is the air that I breathe
Sometimes all I need is the air that I breathe and to love you
All I need is the air that I breathe yes to love you
All I need is the air that I breathe
song performed by by Simply Red
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Y.. Poetry and History
Tired at night, I went to sleep
I slept tremendously deep
I slept a very long time
I woke up in October of 2110
and some history books of then
were laying in that room of mine
How exciting it was, how queer
to read the history of the coming years
I was in for quite a surprise
The heroes of the 2011 history books
were labelled as what they were, just crooks
Heroes in 2110 were nobody else than the wise
There were some wise people, so clever
who brought to us kindness and wisdom forever
these were the heroes of 2110
Among the heroes, prophets and thinkers were found
poets of wisdom, their names all around
Sages and wise ones from way back,2010
In 2110, from what I could read
there was no longer hunger, no more greed
thanks to the poets sharing wonderful words
I prayed to go back to the time when I had started to sleep
I wanted to share that news, so good, so profound and deep
I was happy to wake up in the now, my prayers were heard
So here I share the wonderful news at last
That greed and hunger will soon be a thing of the past
it all 'll have started in 2012 during spring
History books of the future mention a kindness revolution
Starting in May 2012, affecting all subsequent evolution
Isn't that a wonderful thing?
poem by Aufie Zophy
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Well, I'm half Australian, half English and I live in London. That is the only reason I came upon this story. My Australian mother, Meredith Hooper, was invited in late 2007 by some Australian friends to make up a token Australian audience in a tiny fringe theater play reading of an unproduced, unrehearsed play called 'The King's Speech.'
quote by Tom Hooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Chinese Immigration
You doubtless read the papers,
And as men of observation,
Of course you watch the progress
Of Chinese immigration--
For thousands of these pigtail chaps
In Adelaide are landing;
And why they let such numbers come
Exceeds my understanding.
On Emerald Hill it now appears
A Joss House they've erected;
And they've got an ugly idol there--
It's just what I expected;
And they offer nice young chickens
Unto this wooden log;
And sometimes with a sucking pig
They go the entire hog.
Now some of you, perhaps, may laugh,
But 'tis my firm opinion,
This colony some day will be
Under Chinese dominion.
They'll upset the Australian government,
The place will be their own;
And an Emperor with a long pigtail,
Will sit upon the throne.
Melbourne will be the seat of power,
And then 'tis my impression,
Of the stations up the country
They'll quickly take possession.
The squatters will be used as slaves,
By the Celestial nation;
And growing tea or rice will be
Their only compensation.
The mandarins will seize for wives
The fair Australian girls;
And from Melbourne to the diggings
They'll cut lots of canals.
And for fear the coves of New South Wales
Should pay a hostile call;
Between this colony and that
No doubt they'll build a wall.
The customs of their country
Of course will then prevail;
And every English slave will have
To wear a long pigtail.
We'll all of us be fed on rice,
As true as I'm a sinner;
And 'stead of spoons we'll have to use
Those chopsticks for our dinner.
This picture, perhaps, is overdrawn;
But, however, who can say,
That all these things will not take place,
If we let them have their way.
If it comes to pass, these English songs
Away I'll quick be flinging,
And learn their language; and come out
In Chinese comic singing.
poem by Charles Thatcher
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Stories Of Hope Series #4 The Elders
His wife died fifteen years past, and he knew
Living with his children would not last.
They would want to put him in a assisted living home
Just so that they could be left alone.
They could not foresee that one day they would be elderly.
They joked about him becoming senile
But he knew that would not happen for quite a while.
He was only sixty two with so much more living to do.
He knew the only thing he had left was HOPE.
And with life’s burdens he would have to cope.
So he decided to go back to school
And learn a new trade, and show his family
that he could make the grade.
He learned carpentry, and bought all the necessary tools
And what he couldn’t get, he borrowed from the school.
He already had in his mind of what he’d like to make.
And he knew that a long time it would take.
He decided to get the WESTERN RED CEDAR
For its softness and durability, and aromatic smell
This wood he knew would work quite well.
He found the perfect picture of what he had in mind
And viewed every detail and every line.
He wanted it to be about three feet tall
And two feet wide because that size would be just fine.
He started off very slowly, just chiseling away.
And sanding it down perfectly
For that’s the way it had to be.
He used each and every sculpting blade he could find
To define each and every line.
He did each part with delicate care
For with this piece there was a love he shared.
Slowly but surely it started to take shape
He was impatient, he could not wait.
But he knew that this was the way it was meant to be
So that everyone could see the beauty that had to be.
He worked on it every day, and his worries
Seemed to slip away.
Being put in a home was no longer his concern
And that his children would have to learn
That as long as he could breathe and walk
All of this was just talk.
This sculpture became his obsession
and his passion and made him grow strong
And doing this is where he belonged.
His teachers were very impressed and said
He was the best student yet.
They said that this was a work of art and of beauty
And should be put on display
And that for this the public would gladly pay.
He knew there was something missing
And that it was not complete,
and this problem he would defeat.
Then it dawned on him that it was needing color.
He needed the darkest blue and the deepest brown
And went about painting it without making a sound.
The darkest blue was for the piercing eyes
And the brown for the shoulder length hair
This was the perfect pair.
For three months he had toiled with perfection
For this was of the LORD and his resurrection.
And this was how it came to be
That this elder found harmony
HOPE IS THE KEY TO SET OURSELVES FREE
poem by Louis Rams
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The Air That I Breathe
If I could make a wish I think Id pass
Cant think of anything I need
No cigarettes, no sleep, no light, no sound
Nothing to eat no books to read
Making love with you, has left me peaceful warm inside
What more could I ask
Theres nothing left to be desired
Sometimes all I need is the air that I breathe and to love you
All I need is the air that I breathe yes to love you
Just to have you now
All I need is the air that I breathe youre all I want
Peace came upon me and it breathes in me
Dont sleep silent angel dont you sleep
Sometimes all I need is the air that I breathe and to love you
Just to have you now
All I need is the air that I breathe yes to love you
All I need is the air that I breathe youre all I want
Sometimes all I need is the air that I breathe and to love you
All I need is the air that I breathe yes to love you
All I need is the air that I breathe youre all I want
Sometimes all I need is the air that I breathe and to love you
All I need is the air that I breathe yes to love you
All I need is the air that I breathe youre all I want
song performed by by Simply Red
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blood On The Rooftops
Dark and grey, an english film, the wednesday play
We always watch the queen on christmas day
Wont you stay?
Though your eyes see shipwrecked sailors youre still dry
The outlooks fine though wales might have some rain
Saved again.
Lets skip the news boy (Ill make some tea)
The arabs and the jews boy (too much for me)
They get me confused boy (puts me off to sleep)
And the thing I hate - oh lord!
Is staying up late, to watch some debate, on some nations fate.
Hypnotised by batman, tarzan, still surprised!
Youve won the west in time to be our guest
Name your prize!
Drop of wine, a glass of beer dear whats the time?
The grime on the tyne is mine all mine all mine
Five past nine.
Blood on the rooftops - venice in the spring
Streets of san francisco - a word from peking
The trouble was started - by a young errol flynn
Better in my day - oh lord!
For when we got bored, wed have a world war, happy but poor
So lets skip the news boy (Ill go make that tea)
Blood on the rooftops (too much for me)
When old mother goose stops - theyre out for 23
Then the rain at lords stopped play
Seems helen of troy has found a new face again.
song performed by by Genesis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Starting Again
Music: Barry Manilow
Lyrics: Marty Panzer
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
And it started again And I meant every word
And I liked what I said
And I liked what I heard
And I started to think
I could think about starting again
We were laughing again
Over memories and wine
And the years in between
Didn't seem a long time
When I smiled she knew why
In a while it was starting again
And I started to think I could feel again
All the bad times seemed unreal
When I looked in her eyes
The cheating, the lies,
The things that were wrong seemed far behind
And I started to think I could care again
And my fears all disappeared
When she called me by name
I knew that she'd changed
The flaws were all gone
The Saint remained
But it started again when I asked her to stay
And she said, "There's this friend who's in town just today"
And she really felt bad, but she had to be leaving again
And she left me again as she'd left me before
Still pretending she cared when we kissed at the door
But I saw in her eyes that the lies were all starting again
Just when I started to feel again
When all the bad times seemed unreal
When it all seemed so right and I thought that tonight
If she said she cared, she really might
Just when my fears disappeared again
And I heard what I wanted to hear
It all started again
And I knew what that meant
It wasn't the start
It was really the end
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The story of my life in a poem
Poem of Meg's life,
Meg was brought up as she later found out,
Adopted by parents, but unsure how it came about;
She didn't sit up till 2 years of age, this is true,
And didn't start to talk till 5, so no how do you do.
She went to a special school from 7 yrs of age,
But had many problems walking, at that stage;
Went in a taxi, every Monday to Friday,
Had many a party there to celebrate her birthday.
Her mother brought up 3girls, with a disability too,
1 arm because of cancer, but she coped thru' and thru;
She took us girls to Sunday school each and every week,
And taught us to love God, to pray, and his truth to seek.
We lived in Dandenong, till I was 12 years of age,
But my sister wasn't there, she was nowhere at that stage;
We shifted to Gladstone in Queensland you know,
It's where Meg was baptized by immersion that is so.
At 16 She started teaching,2 - 6 years in Sunday school,
At 17 we shifted back, but then dad started to be cruel;
I celebrated my 21st, birthday, with a wonderful musical night,
It made friends and family happy, things were happy and bright.
My mum passed on to the Lord, and I shifted away from home,
For 4 yrs I lived in Glenroy, in a flat and on my own;
I was in THE Salvation Army, serving the Lord, each week,
Playing the organ and harp, teaching the youth, the Lord to seek.
I then shifted to ascot vale, then over to st albans to live,
Married a man with problems, and troubles to me he did give;
But 12 yrs of problems I'm free of it now, so thankyou,
To the Lord for release and strength, and that He's brought me thru'.
And then I started at Sunshine, in the band where I did play,
And sang and read the Word, helping in many a way;
THE Lord showed me time to learn more, so off to college I go,
To learn how to be a minister for Christ, and His way to show.
So now I'm 58 years of age, seeking to do right with the Lord,
It's great to preach and learn, but to understand His Word;
And I want to thankyou for coming to celebrate my special day,
Please enjoy yourselves and enjoy the meal, on this my 58th birthday.
Written 4th/6th/2012.
poem by Margaret Haig
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Lost Highway (live)
I'm a rollin' stone all alone and lost
For a life of sin I have paid the cost
When I past by all the people say
Just another guy on the lost highway
Just a deck of cards and a jug of wine
And a woman's lies makes a life like mine
On the day we met, oh I went astray
I started rolling down that lost highway
I was just a lad, nearly twenty two
Neither good nor bad, just a kid like you
And now I'm lost, too late to pray
Lord I paid a cost, on the lost highway
Now boy's don't start to ramblin' round
On this road of sin are you sorrow bound
Take my advice or you'll curse the day
You started rollin' down that lost highway
You started rollin' down that lost highway
You started rollin' down that lost highway
You started rollin' down that lost highway
song performed by by Coldplay
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ay Me, Ay Me, I Sigh the Scythe A-field
Ay me, ay me, I sigh to see the scythe a-field;
Down goeth the grass, soon wrought to wither'd hay:
Ay me, alas! ay me, alas, that beauty needs must yield,
And princes pass, as grass doth fade away.
Ay me, ay me, that life can not have lasting leave,
Nor gold take hold of everlasting joy:
Ay me, alas! ay me, alas, that time hath talents to receive,
And yet no time can make a suer stay.
Ay me, ay me, that wit can not have wished choice,
Nor wish can win that will desires to see:
Ay me, alas! ay me, alas, that mirth can promise no rejoice,
Nor study tell what afterward shall be.
Ay me, ay me, that no sure staff is given to age,
Nor age can give sure wit that youth will take:
Ay me, alas! ay me, alas, that no counsel wise and sage
Will shun the show that all doth mar and make.
Ay me, ay me, come, Time, shear on and shake thy hay,
It is no boot to balk thy bitter blows:
Ay me, alas! ay me, alas, come, Time, take everything away,
For all is thine, be it good or bad, that grows.
poem by Anonymous Americas
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Dont Get Me Started
Dont get me started on politicians
And the lies they spread
Dont even mention sex and religion
And who they take to bed
But if you see me running down the street
Know where Im running to
Im tired of honesty being denied us
Im coming looking for you
Dont hold me down, Im on my way
And nothings gonna turn me round
Dont turn around, give it to me straight
Im on my way and nothings gonna shake me
Ill hold my ground
Wild horses wont make me
Dont get me started on information
Magazines and t.v.
Theres one man under his big umbrella
While its raining on you and me
Everyday its getting harder to judge
Fiction from fact
Im tired of truth being denied me
Its mine and I want it back
Dont hold me down, Im on my way
And nothings gonna turn me round
Dont turn around, give it to me straight
Im on my way and nothings gonna shake me
Ill hold my ground
Wild horses wont make me
Business as usual in our pressure steamer
Where reality slips from view
They say that we cant take it
I think I can, can you?
Dont get me started on blood and thunder
With people flying blind
Not caring what or who they take with them
Or what they leave behind
Its one mans God against another
While the river of tears roll by
The things they do in the name of their father
Can someone tell me why
Dont hold me down, Im on my way
And nothings gonna turn me round
Dont turn around, give it to me straight
Im on my way and nothings gonna shake me
Ill hold my ground
Dont get me started
song performed by by Phil Collins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Rose #2
She was only 21-when her fiancés life
Was taken with a gun.
They had three years together
And life was getting so much better.
They had plans for a wedding in June
But it ended much too soon.
He had given her a long stem rose
Then he fell to one knee, and did propose.
She took the rose and with loving tender care
With her diary she would share.
She took the rose and cut the stem
And she knew his love would never end.
She knew with time this flower would wither
And die- and that it was a love between he and I.
So she got the silica gel, And preserved the
Rose very well.
She put it into a plastic bag
and vacuumed out all the air.
Then put it into her diary
Where only she could see.
They said it was a down right shame
That he was in the middle of a shootout
Between two rival gangs.
That was when he lost his life
Before she became his loving wife.
As the tears rolled down her eyes
She started to visualize
Of how her wedding day would have been
Had he not been in the wrong place
At the wrong time.
Their life would have turned out fine.
As she placed the rose upon the diary page
Growing inside of her was a sense of rage.
Why can life be so cruel, and people so full of hate?
But looking at the rose, her heart started to melt
Relieving her of all the anger she felt.
Their love for each other was “ oh so pure”
Of a happy life together she was sure.
Life can be comical, and you never know
What it will bring.
But she got pregnant doing her thing.
Then one night when she fell asleep
Into her mind he did creep
And told her these words:
Now you have three things I left behind
My love, a rose, and a child of mine.
When she awoke, she knew he did not die in vain
For he left a part of himself to relieve her pain.
poem by Louis Rams
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Dark Glasses
Sweet maiden, why disguise
The beauty of your eyes
With glasses black?
Although I'm well aware
That you are more than fair,
Allure you lack.
For as I stare at you
I ask if brown or blue
Your optics are?
But though I cannot see,
I'm sure that each must be
Bright as a star.
That may be green or grey,
'Tis very hard to say,
Or violet;
The lovelight in their glow
Alas, I'll never know,
To my regret.
In some rhyme-book I've read,
A lady bard has said,
And deemed it true,
Men will not bite the necks
Of sweeties who wear specs,--
Young man, would you?
But though they balk romance,
Columbus took a chance,
And so would I;
Even with orbs unseen
I'd fain make you my queen
And you en-sky.
Alas I see you go,
And I will never know
Your pupils tint;
So o'er a lonely drink
I force myself to think:
Damsel, you squint!
poem by Robert William Service
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The Squatter Of The Olden Time
I'll sing to you a fine new song, made by my blessed mate,
Of a fine Australian squatter who had a fine estate,
Who swore by right pre-emptive at a sanguinary rate
That by his rams, his ewes, his lambs, Australia was made great
Like a fine Australian squatter, one of the olden time.
His hut around was hung with guns, whips, spurs, and boots and shoes,
And kettles and tin pannikins to hold the tea he brews;
And here his worship lolls at ease and takes his smoke and snooze,
And quaffs his cup of hysouskin, the beverage old chums choose
Like a fine Australian squatter, one of the olden time.
And when shearing time approaches he opens hut to all,
And though ten thousand are his flocks, he featly shears them all,
Even to the scabby wanderer you'd think no good at all;
For while he fattens all the great, he boils down all the small
Like a fine old Murray squatter, one of the olden time.
And when his worship comes to town his agents for to see,
His wool to ship, his beasts to sell, he lives right merrily;
The club his place of residence, as becomes a bush J.P.,
He darkly hints that Thompson's run from scab is scarcely free
This fine old Murray settler, one of the olden time.
And now his fortune he has made to England straight goes he,
But finds with grief he's not received as he had hoped to be.
His friends declare his habits queer, his language much too free,
And are somewhat apt to cross the street when him they chance to see
This fine Australian squatter, the boy of the olden time.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Kids
Early mornings late nights
Playing baseball all day
Follow by hide n go seek
We always had fun
We always seem to get into trouble
We were like two peas in a pod
You were the first one I ever kissed
I dreamed it would always be just me and you
I dreamed that you would be my first
Then we started getting older
My friends liked you
I admit I was jealous
Then again I hooked you two up
We started to grow apart
Nothing was ever going to be the same
I didn't have anyone anymore
Then I hardly talked wit you
We finally went are seperate ways
Now after years go by you show up
Right out of the blue
I didn't know what to think
I finally had a boyfriend
So I pushed you away
And you left again
My man and I broke it off
You stoped by
An we both knew what was going to happen
Everything I ever dreamed about you came true
Yet I dont have those feelings I use to have for you
Will it ever be like it use to?
poem by Ashley Olson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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