Poetry Page

[Babi]

   Neat twist on the 'Telephone Conversation'. 

[BarbStAubrey]

Acquainted with the Night
          ~ Robert Frost


I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain — and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
One luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.

[BarbStAubrey]

Night Patrol
          ~ by Bruce Guernsey

    My father never slept real well after the war
    and as my mother tells, he woke in fear
    so deep, so far away, he seemed to stare
    straight out at nothing she could see or hear.

    Or worse – she wraps her robe around her, remembering-
    he’d sit there grinning, bolt upright beside her,
    this mad look on his face, the bed springs quivering
    with some hilarity the night had whispered.

    And once, “He did this, your father, I swear he did –
    he must have been still dreaming, rest his soul –
    he tried to close my frightened eyes, my lids,
    to thumb them shut like he was on patrol

    the way he’d learned so they would sleep, the dead.
    And then he blessed himself and bowed his head.”

[BarbStAubrey]

Night on the Prairies
         ~ by: Walt Whitman (1819-1892)

Night on the prairies,
The supper is over, the fire on the ground burns low,
The wearied emigrants sleep, wrapt in their blankets;
I walk by myself--I stand and look at the stars, which I think now
never realized before.
 
Now I absorb immortality and peace,
I admire death and test propositions.
 
How plenteous! how spiritual! how resume!
The same old man and soul--the same old aspirations, and the same content.
 
I was thinking the day most splendid till I saw what the not-day exhibited,
I was thinking this globe enough till there sprang out so noiseless
around me myriads of other globes.
 
Now while the great thoughts of space and eternity fill me I will
measure myself by them,
And now touch'd with the lives of other globes arrived as far along
as those of the earth,
Or waiting to arrive, or pass'd on farther than those of the earth,
I henceforth no more ignore them than I ignore my own life,
Or the lives of the earth arrived as far as mine, or waiting to arrive.
 
O I see now that life cannot exhibit all to me, as the day cannot,
I see that I am to wait for what will be exhibited by death.

[Babi]

 How very different,..and moving..., these various visions of the night.  The one by Guerney
is painful to read; war does such terrible things to the souls of those who must fight in them.
  I've tried to find a fitting 'night' poem, but nothing suits.  The ones that come to mind are
not really about the night.
 

[roshanarose]

A veritable feast of magnificent poetry.  I like the Robert Frost best.

[Babi]

 Here's a poem any Texan can identify with,..and probably a good many of the rest of you, too.

A Day in a Texas Heat Wave

After sunrise-
The air feels sticky,
Like honey drying and thick.

Texas heat gradually builds
As noontime approaches-
Heat such as in a warming oven
Or a roaring fire.

The heat and humidity combine
To a heat index of one-o-nine.
Sweat drips from every brow.
How a normal human can handle it-
I don't know how.

The sun is still only halfway
Across the sky.
Weak grass and bushes
Begin to wilt and die.

The temperature reaches 100 again.
Only sunset gives relief
From the red hot
Sunburning thief.

Praying tomorrow will be the day
That there will be rain
Because another 14 hours of the sun's ray
Will send a few more people insane.

[BarbStAubrey]

Hahaha I love it - maybe that is what I should have been doing all summer when things were not going well - said I was insane because the heat without rain made me so...  

[roshanarose]

The temperature reaches 100 again.
Only sunset gives relief
From the red hot
Sunburning thief.

This verse says what I know of heat too.  The red hot sunburning thief - Yes.  It does steal so much, but we would perish without it.  Zephyrs do their bit to help, when they can.

Barb - I never need an excuse.  I KNOW I am insane!

No comment from you Gum.   

[Gumtree]

Roshanarose: Stirring again 

I was trying not to be reminded of the coming summer - I'll be off my head too!

Here's a couple of brief ones:


Summer's heat is here  - Liz Munro   

 Continue sweat is running down your body
like ocean waves caress the sand,
Beaches and pools packed to the brim
like sardines overcrowding the can.

Summer's heat is finally here,
36 degress - the mecury's rising,
Let's hope your near water
to ring in a hot New Year.

28/12/05.

 
Summer Heat

Furnace-hot,
Relentless -
Summer sun blazing.

Heat-hazed,
Oppressive -
Atmosphere stifling.

Tinder-dry,
Dessicated -
Baked earth withering.

Land-heated,
Roisterous -
Westerly wind gusting

Thoughtless spark,
Kindled flame -
Forest fire raging.



© Linda Visman
1st January 2006

[Babi]

 Ah, baked earth would definitely do me in, GUM.  Here on the Gulf Coast, the grass may be
turning brown but there is still enough greenery everywhere to rest ones' eyes and cast some
shade.  It's trying to breathe the hot, humid air that leaves us panting for the a/c. and stripping
off  the sweaty, sticky clothes. 
  Not much longer now, tho'.  It's the end of August; September will see the turn toward Autumn.  Thank goodness!

[Gumtree]

Babi: Where I am we have plenty of greenery (grey/blue though it be) but the earth is hot and baking for months, the air is so dry and the killer fires are just a careless flick of a match away.

I've no doubt that I wouldn't survive in a humid climate - we get the humidity mainly during February and March which is enough for me - I think Roshanarose has it humid most of the time.

[BarbStAubrey]

Had to smile reading Summer's Heat is Here - there it was telling us about the other side of the Globe - heat on New Year's day... Love it

Looks like all the talk of rain the end of this week has gone by the wayside - seems it was dependent on a storm they saw brewing in the Gulf that evaporated. Talked to my son last night on the phone and Babi he is up in Magnolia right next to the Woodlands - anyhow he said this weekend in his backyard the thermometer read 115 - he too has given up on his lawn - between the grub worms this year and the heat - the air is sure going to be thick this fall with moths.

The Moth
          ~ Mary Oliver

There’s a kind of white moth, I don’t know
what kind, that glimmers
by mid-May
in the forest, just
as the pink mocassin flowers
are rising.

If you notice anything,
it leads you to notice
more
and more.

And anyway
I was so full of energy.
I was always running around, looking
at this and that.

If I stopped
the pain
was unbearable.

If I stopped and thought, maybe
the world
can’t be saved,
the pain
was unbearable.

Finally, I noticed enough.
All around me in the forest
the white moths floated.

How long do they live, fluttering
in and out of the shadows?

You aren’t much, I said
one day to my reflection
in a green pond,
and grinned.

The wings of the moths catch the sunlight
and burn
so brightly.

At night, sometimes,
they slip between the pink lobes
of the moccasin flowers and lie there until dawn,
motionless
in those dark halls of honey.

[BarbStAubrey]

September
          ~John Updike

The breezes taste
Of apple peel.
The air is full
Of smells to feel-
Ripe fruit, old footballs,
Burning brush,
New books, erasers,
Chalk, and such.
The bee, his hive,
Well-honeyed hum,
And Mother cuts
Chrysanthemums.
Like plates washed clean
With suds, the days
Are polished with
A morning haze.

[Babi]

BARB, I can remember going to Magnolia Gardens as a kid. There was a park on the river,
great for picnics and swimming.  Sadly,that area of the river became more and more unsafe
for swimming. It was reluctantly closed when kids continued to drown because they wouldn't
stay within the safetey limits.

 September at last!  Summer is officially over, though you can't really tell yet from the weather. The only thing that makes it believable is the group of kids waiting for the school bus
every morning with a group of young mothers standing watch.
  Soon, tho...

[BarbStAubrey]

You are so right Babi - soon tho - but in the best of years or should I say the years with the cooler summers I still remember the only relief in September being that it starts to get dark earlier and so the sun cannot beat down on us for as long each day - I am not remembering any real relief till either the very end of September or more likely October - I do hope though that September brings us a good downpour - that alone could at least get us down into the low 90s if not the high 80s. for a day or two. But more, we badly need the rain.

I am thinking that we may see what looks like trees turning color and will actually be leaves so dry they loose their green and fall off the trees. Of course here there are more Live Oak so where the trees are green they get that light sage green look rather than the deep green when there is enough rain.

One blessing - at least I see it as a blessing - there are large swaths - acres and acres of ceder that have died this summer - I know this upsets the folks that know ceder is home to the Yellow Checked Warbler and therefore protected, however, they are so acid that when it rains they are dripping acid rain which stunts the growth of any nearby Live Oak - I just wished when the law was passed they would have added a line that said you could cut down ceder within a 10 foot diameter beyond the longest branch of a Live Oak -

Acid Rain
          ~ David Darbyshire
 
     The tree tops are Dead
and so are the Roots
It's the rain they Dread
also the Shoots

The rain is like Acid
it eats it all Away
should be more placid
would help in a big Way

But one Day the Trees will be Gone
It seams all the people do is Yawn
But when it is Black, Dark, and no Bark
We'll wish we were sitting in a Green Park

[roshanarose]

Acid Rain - How terrible!  

Gum - As you say Brisbane is very humid for at least 3 months.  It is not unusual to have to have three showers a day, and often a completely cold bath as well.  "Cooling the core" I call it.  That is if the water from the tap is cold enough.  Although Perth is where the high temperatures are.  Do many people, or all people, have air conditioning?  Did you have water restrictions as well?  Oh well - to enjoy such a lovely country one has to deal with the weather.  I have always felt sorry for those pioneer women who had to chop wood and tend to washing in copper lined boilers and cook on wood fires during the summer months, whilst having to wear long dresses and petticoats.  No boardies or sarongs then!  They were a tough lot.  Like Lady Macquarie, many of them must have yearned for the soft green pastures of their homeland. But at least Lady Macquarie had servants and a beautiful place to sit and yearn.

This lovely vantage point is called either Mrs Macquarie's chair or Lady Macquarie's chair.  

For those who like trivia : Russell Crowe and his family have an apartment at Wooloomooloo (spelling) which is within walking distance of the chair.  

www.rbgsyd.nsw.gov.au

This link will take you to the homepage of the Royal Botanic Gardens Sydney.  For some reason the full link to the section I wanted for "The Chair" would not compute.  If you are still interested click on History > Discovering the Domain > Main features of the Domain.  On the final page there is a map of the Domain and where "The Chair" is.  What is noted on the map as Bennelong Point is where the Opera House is.

[Gumtree]

Roshanarose: Yes, we do get hot. And we do have water restrictions and they will probably be more stringent during this coming summer. Air conditioning is fairly widespread but not everyone has it or can afford to run it.

The Botanic Gardens on the Domain are one of my favourite destinations when I'm over there. But I simply love the Blue Mountains and could happily live there - some areas in the Jamieson Valley never get above 24 C in high summer - cool cool cool - but wet and cold during winter - can't have everything.

I think they call it Mrs Macquarie's Chair - great lookout she had whilst waiting for the ships to bring her news. As you say - she didn't have to do the work and could indulge herself.

Barbara: That Live Oak and Cedar dichotomy sounds just awful. Plants usually manage to strike up a workable coexistence but once man interferes with his rules it seems to upset the balance.

Since we're off topic -It is now officially spring here in the Great South Land. We've had little rain throughout winter but today is forecast for a thunderstorm - it is cold with a fresh wind blowing straight up from Antarctica - the sky has been clear but when I glanced out of the window just now there were monster dark grey clouds moving up rapidly - I guess I'll be shutting down pretty soon.


 

[BarbStAubrey]

Gum and Roshanarose seems y'all are handling the wilds of Spring while we are hoping soon to experience the mellow autumn - as to the Ceder - it took hold here in Texas back during the deep drought of the 1920s and early 30s - it is a tree that blew up from Mexico - some of the cactus and some wild flowers have adapted and will grow in a Ceder Break but they do hinder the growth of the natural trees and plants that are suited to the limestone of Texas, with the Live Oak being the more beautiful tree when it is not stunted by being surrounded with the Cedar.

To see a mature Live Oak out in a field shading 30 or more heads of cattle according to the size of the tree is a sight to behold. In town where, gradually over years folks have removed the ceder because the pollen is brutal late Fall through most of the Winter and allergies are rampant with the result the Live Oak beautifully shades streets, yards and school playgrounds.

here is a link to a photo of a Live Oak taken near the coast in Rockport
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Big_tree.jpg

And this one is on the grounds of the Capitol here in Austin - notice how it dwarfs the trees along the path
http://0.tqn.com/d/forestry/1/0/d/i/live_oak_texas1.jpg

here is a Cedar break - actually we call them Cedar when they are Ashe Juniper or Mexican Juniper.
Notice the mature male tree is almost ready to break out and release all those yellow spores where as the smaller green tree on the left side of the photo is too young - Others in the background are mostly female
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/0/04/Juniperusashei1224.jpg

A Voice By the Cedar Tree
(From “Maud”, Part I, Section V)
          ~ Alfred Lord Tennyson

A voice by cedar tree
In the meadow under the Hall!
She is singing an air that is known to me,
A passionate ballad gallant and gay,
A martial song like a trumpet’s call!
Singing of men that in battle array
Ready in heart and ready in hand,
March with banner and bugle and fife
To the death, for their native land.

Maud with her exquisite face,
And wild voice pealing up to the sunny sky,
And feet like sunny gems on an English green,
Maud in the light of her youth and her grace,
Singing of Death, and of Honor that cannot die,
Till I well could weep for a time so sordid and mean,
And myself so languid and base.

[BarbStAubrey]

I Saw in Louisiana a Live-Oak Growing
          -- Walt Whitman

 I saw in Louisiana a live-oak growing,
 All alone stood it and the moss hung down from the branches,
 Without any companion it stood there uttering joyous leaves of dark green,
 And its look, rude, unbending, lusty, made me think of myself,
 But I wondered how it could utter joyous leaves standing alone there
        without its friend near, for I knew I could not,
 And I broke off a twig with a certain number of leaves upon it,
        and twined around it a little moss,
 And brought it away, and I have placed it in sight in my room,
 It is not needed to remind me as of my own dear friends,
 (For I believe lately I think of little else than of them,)
 Yet it remains to me a curious token, it makes me think of manly love;
 For all that, and though the live-oak glistens there in Louisiana
        solitary in a wide flat space,
 Uttering joyous leaves all its life without a friend or lover near,
 I know very well I could not.

Louisiana Live Oak with Moss
http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/6624/quercusvirginiana27.jpg

[Babi]

I have to think, BARB, that nature is much more callous than we are. Or perhaps just much
more practical. We want to save it all, and it just won't work. Plants, creatures, people,
..if we can't adjust to changes we're not going to last very long. Ah, but our live oaks are so
splendid, aren't they?

 ROSHANA, I don't believe for a moment that any sane woman wore those petticoats, etc.,
in the privacy of her own home while cooking, washing, et al. 'Fashion' is for company.
A thin seersucker dress for summer, that's the way to go.

[roshanarose]

Babi - I love seersucker dresses but prefer just a sarong when it is really hot, hoping no talent scouts come knocking at my door.

Gumtree - My daughter and her family are spending a week in Leura in the Blue Mountains in a week or so.  What I remember most clearly was my uncle, who was a daredevil and had flown fighters during WWII, insisting I take the cable car thingie with him at Katoomba.  I imagined it would be some kind of horizontal contraption, but was horrified to see it was actually a vertical contraption down a cliff.  Eeeeeekkkkk.  Then I realised why everyone else had refused.  I can still see his face as we plunged downward - pure joy. He told me later that my face was white.  

Yes - I agree about the Domain and the Botanical Gardens.  I love it there too.  So peaceful with one of the most magnificent harbours in the world as your outlook.

Barb - Those oaks are magnificent.  I love trees.

[Babi]

 Are they still making seersucker, ROSHANA?  I haven't seen a seersucker dress since I was
a carefree, barefoot kid.
  Do you think you could find us a picture of that 'magnificent harbour'?   I do my touring via
pictures now.  

[roshanarose]

Babi - This link is about the beautiful city of Sydney in general.  You are making me want to visit again.  Although I did experience a beautiful lunch time cruise of the Harbour, I much prefer tootling along in the old Sydney ferry to Manly.  I remember loving that trip from my childhood.  I think Gum mentions the Zoo run as well as her son lives in Sydney (Mosman)?

My brother lives a fair way out of Sydney in a suburb called Castle Hill.  It is no drama driving into the city and out again, but now it costs a lot in tolls, as no main road runs out of Sydney Town without tolls.  The skinflint in me was shocked at this, but my brother just accepts is as "progress".

A snippet of history about Castle Hill.

"The first free settler in Castle Hill was Frenchman, Baron Verincourt de Clambe, who received a grant of 200 acres (800,000 m²) in 1802. It has been suggested that de Clambe's house "The Hermitage" was commonly called 'The Castle' by locals, because of the Baron's noble status.[3]

 
In 1804, the convicts rebelled in the Castle Hill convict rebellion, also known as the second 'Battle of Vinegar Hill'. Overpowering their guards and marching on towards Parramatta having torched a hut at the prison farm to signal fellow convicts at the Hawkesbury (which they either ignored or did not see). However, they were vastly outgunned and outnumbered by British troops. About fifteen to twenty were killed in the first skirmish at the western gates of the Governor's Domain. The main group headed west pursued by the Red Coats and a citizen militia under protection of Martial Law and posse comitatus. Where the Rouse Hill Regional Town is, it is believed a twenty-minute skirmish happened where more were killed.

Martial Law was declared across the whole of the colony and was allowed to cloak the activities of the military and their militia as convicts were deemed 'to be in a state of insurrection'. Martial Law progressed for seven days, throughout which muskets were heard to fire day and night. The government-controlled newspaper reported only 133 convicts were involved, but over 600 left Castle Hill in the hope of joining with another 1,100 from the Hawkesbury plains."  (Wikipedia)

www.sydney.com.au

An aerial view.  Mrs Macquaries chair is on the first point, The Domain, Botanical Gardens; Bennelong's point (The Sydney Opera House) is on the second.  Of course, Mrs M. wasn't able to see the Opera House and the Harbour Bridge.

http://www.qasco.com.au/Gallery/SydneyHarbour.html

[BarbStAubrey]

between the prevailing seasons.
          ~ James Archer Danny 
   
     What lapse yet wondrous, whimsical woes?
What season of cycle whistles?
When wind opens the gates of pressure,
you will be there under the brown, dead rustle.

Oh many months spring to mind,
with laughter and subtle beauty,
but, as autumn's whistles deepen
our care for weather wilts.

We never notice but its always there,
always has been, yet its still just the bit
in between summer and winter.
The depressing one.

Modern love has come away from,
summer picnics and winters by fire light.
And people, like me, look out at the moon
and see true encapsulating beauty, in death.
In the light, despite constant nagging from the clouds,
that the sun and moon bring,
yet we don't know, there there.

The sad thing is, that it receives NO praise.
Not since the 'Ode' have I heard a mention of its power
of its grace, of the sounds the wind makes,
of the art it paints to the concrete.
Of the tunes, of the silence,
but most importantly, of the life it creates.

[BarbStAubrey]

 
Ode 
          ~ By Arthur O'Shaughnessy

We are the music-makers,
And we are the dreamers of dreams,
Wandering by lone sea-breakers
And sitting by desolate streams;
World losers and world forsakers,
On whom the pale moon gleams:
Yet we are the movers and shakers
Of the world for ever, it seems.
 
With wonderful deathless ditties
We build up the world’s great cities.
And out of a fabulous story
We fashion an empire’s glory:
One man with a dream, at pleasure,
Shall go forth and conquer a crown;
And three with a new song’s measure
Can trample an empire down.
 
We, in the ages lying
In the buried past of the earth,
Built Nineveh with our sighing,
And Babel itself with our mirth;
And o’erthrew them with prophesying
To the old of the new world’s worth;
For each age is a dream that is dying,
Or one that is coming to birth.

[roshanarose]

Hi Barb  

Seeing as Babi wants to go all Aussie on us she might like this sea shanty : I was having difficulty finding a poem actually written BY convicts.  There are several written ABOUT them.

www.imagesaustralia.com/botanybay.htm

[BarbStAubrey]

I bet you were busy writing when I popped in because I did not see your post till I just came back after seeing someone posted in Poetry - yes, we are trying to get the concept of Australia under our belt - even trying to find seasonal poems that are reversed - I guess the only poets that have a handle on Australia are those who are Australian poets.

Trying to be topical is leaving me hungry for some of the classic poets - I think it is time to pull a few books off my shelf - yep, tomorrow that will be the plan...

[roshanarose]

Barb and Babi - Many Australians think that their attitude to freedom and liberty for all comes from their convict beginnings.  That is not to say that all Australians have convicts as ancestors, but those who do are mostly proud of it.  No Mayfair here.

I have been busy looking for a short poem written by a convict.  I daresay that the poor devils did not have a lot of time to write, particularly poetry.  Although not in the same league as Homer's version of Hades or Dante's Inferno, I liked this one by Macnamara, echoing his hatred of authority in general.  I have left a brief description in order for you to read the poem in context.

"It's hard to get a grip on the worth of a poem such as this from a distance of 170 years. The whole story is rather trite from our perspective: a wish-fulfilment dream, in which the dreamer is the innocent victim. The one thing that comes across loud and clear is the hatred that Macnamara felt for the convict settlement and army authorities: sulphurous lakes, fiery stakes and chairs, and rivers of boiling lead.

And all those fiery seats and chairs
Are fitted up for Dukes and Mayors
And nobles of Judicial orders
Barristers, Lawyers and Recorders
Here I beheld legions of traitors
Hangmen gaolers and flagellators
Commandants,Constables and Spies
Informers and Overseers likewise
In flames of brimstone they were toiling
And lakes of sulphur round them boiling
Hell did resound with their fierce yelling
Alas how dismal was their dwelling
It's all classic fire and brimstone stuff.

Macnamara probably felt he had due cause to wish such punishments on his gaolers. Born in 1811 in Ireland he was transported to New South Wales in 1832 after being convicted of theft, though there is a suspicion that he was a political agitator. If that last is true, he would have been targeted by the authorities from the start. He did abscond
several times and received numerous floggings and other punishments. Little else is known about him other than he was shifted from NSW to Port Arthur in 1842. He appears to have changed his ways there - probably under the threat of further depravations, and believe me, Port Arthur is a pretty scarey place - and was given his freedom in 1847. After that he disappears from the record, although Marcus Clarke does write about a balladeer in a dosshouse in Melbourne in 1868 who might have been Macnamara. Less than 20 poems have been attributed to him. "

[Babi]

 WOW! I've never seen so many shoreline nooks, crannies, and mooring docks. The two little
vignettes of the harbor and bridge in the first link are what we usually see. Thank you so
much, ROSHANA.  And admiring lovely views is hardly going all 'Aussie'.  The song in the
link you posted makes me think the writer was Irish.  Do you see a similarity to this Irish
lullaby? Look at the chorus. http://thebards.net/music/lyrics/An_Irish_Lullaby.shtml

 I love Mr. Danny's 'whimsical and whistles". But I can't agree with him about Autumn. I
love Autumn! It is so beautiful, so clear. Mr.O'Shaughnessy's "Ode", however, I am able to
admire with no reservations whatever.

[Gumtree]

Roshanarose:  Thanks for that super bird's eye view of Sydney harbour waters - wonderful wonderful wonderful - makes me want to jump on a plane tomorrow. Like you I prefer the ferries to the posh tourist vessels - and you can get to just about anywhere around the water on them.

 And yes, son lives in Mosman on the Lower North Shore not far from Balmoral Beach - he likes the ferries too and as he works in the city he usually walks down to the ferry at Mosman and then once at Circular Quay he's only got a couple of city blocks to walk - says the trip on water sets him up for the day - no traffic, no parking hassles etc. - have to say that he loves the harbour and is a keen sailor. He and his mate take us out on what they call 'the runabout' - as distinct from their racing yachts - so we can get right into some of the smaller coves around the shoreline which normally can't be accessed any other way. Places like Sirius Cove of historic and artistic fame are wonderful - the water in Sirius is a deep turquoise/green in the shadows.... and the reflections of the boats moored and surrounding vegetation are just fabulous - I keep trying to capture something of it on canvas but never satisfied with the results...

Does everyone know that the Sydney Harbour Bridge is the largest single span suspension bridge in the world. It's design was based on the Hellgate Bridge in the states. 2007 was its 75th birthday year - the Australian flags that fly on the summit of the arch are each as large as a tennis court.

And as for real trivia - did you know that before he became a TV personality and comedian, Paul Hogan -"throw another prawn on the barbie" - was a rigger on the bridge - obviously no fear of heights in him. No way in the world would I do that bridge walk over the summit though DIL has and says she loved every minute...

Okay Barb Okay - I'll stop 

[BarbStAubrey]

No - don't stop - just add a poem or two tied to your thoughts and shared information - it makes it fun to tie poetry to our thoughts - and it is in keeping with the discussion plus getting to know each other...

[Gumtree]

Can't sleep for thinking about Sirius Cove which I mentioned earlier - I tried to paint it several times - started thinking about a couple of Aussie painters who did paint it in late 19th Century. Sir Arthur Streeton and Tom Roberts camped at Curlew Point - were there for some years - here's something from the dreaded wikipedia tells something about them and shows some of their work as you scroll through the article - click on each picture if you want an enlargement.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Curlew_Camp

I promise to find some poems tomorrow.

[roshanarose]

Gum - So inspired am I by Sydney again), and your intro to Sirius, that I have decided that I will spend three days in Sydney CBD probably in October, preferably at "The Observatory Hotel".  A bit expensive, but what the heck.  Then I will go to Castle Hill to see my brother and DIL, and their children.



Nice piece of artwork by Streeton.  I agree that the sea is difficult to paint, it is so changeable, particularly in Greece.

[Gumtree]

If you're trying to understand a little more about Australia this quote shows how D. H. Lawrence felt:

"You feel free in Australia. There is great relief in the atmosphere - a relief from tension, from pressure, an absence of control of will or form. The skies open above you and the areas open around you" D.H Lawrence- English author

Of course, that doesn't say it all - but how does one start to explain this place?


As for poems written by convicts transported to Australia - they are hard to find.


The origins of Australian poetry lay in the prison systems. As Convict etiquette strictly prescribed that one "suffer in silence" whatever emotional turmoil the Convicts were suffering, they were unable to talk about it with their friends. Poetry acted as cathartic outburst of emotion which allowed the Convicts to address those feelings that they could not openly discuss. The most notable of these early poets included the likes of Michael Massey Robinson, George Barrington and Frank the Poet.



Although the Convicts turned to poetry to deal with their problems, writing it was difficult as a man could be flogged for merely possessing a piece of paper. As a result, many turned their bodies into their parchments in the form of tattoos bearing poignant messages like "May the rose of England never blow, May the Scotch thistle never grow, May the harp of Ireland never play, Till I poor convict greets my liberty, TCA 20 1830." Others scratched messages on the walls as graffiti, carved scrimshaws or defaced coins with messages like: "from rocks and sand and dangers free, protect my love and me."

The lack of paper or written ability also forced the Convicts to turn their poems into songs. Even though etiquette of the time prescribed stoicism, the Convict's songs had melancholic themes. This seems to indicate that they had empathy for the anguish of others as they were feeling anguish themselves. By expressing their empathy through an artistic medium, the Convicts were able to maintain a degree of emotional distance from their turmoil as well as that of their friends, while still expressing their anguish, their bond, and their concern.


Convict Poem  - George Barrington


From distant climes, o'er wide-spread seas we come,
Though not with much eclat, or beat of drum,
True patriots all, for it be understood,
We left our country for our country's good:
No private views disgraced our generous zeal,
What urged our travels was our country's weal:
And none will doubt that our emigration
Had prov'd most useful to the British Nation.

More later I hope!

[Gumtree]

Michael Robinson was the author of the first verses known to have been published in Australia. This has earned him the title of “Australia’s First Poet Laureate” and he was given two cows from the government herd in consideration of his services as Poet laureate in 1818 and 1819.
He was also the first author to use the appellation 'Australia' consistently in his works.

He was a convict, educated at Oxford and after serving his time worked for the colonial government.



Song  by Michael Massey Robinson

[To Celebrate the Anniversary of the
Establishment of the Colony]

Philosophers say, and experience declares,
That life is a medley of pleasures and cares;—
That the sunshine which smiles on our prospects to-day,
May be chas’d by the gloom of to-morrow away.

Whilst some, who are strangers to conjugal strife,
Are apt to repine at the loss of a wife,—
There are others (perhaps you may dissolute call ’em)
That are glad to escape from the fetters that gall ’em.

Thus serious and comic, the scene passes on,
The demise of the sire makes way for the son;
When the coffers, by rigid conomy stor’d,
Are squander’d and swallow’d at luxury’s board.

For years, on this Isle, a bright Day-star has gleam’d,
And the Chief that we hail’d was the Friend we esteem’d;
Now Time, in its triumph, has clos’d his career,
And the smile we have cherish’d—is chang’d to a tear!

Yet, often shall memory cling to this day,
And often shall gratitude swell the fond lay;
While Australia shall boast, in her annals of story,
That His Sun,Read more → as it rose—so it set, in full Glory!

But the shadows that threaten’d our Evening forlorn,
The breath of young Hope shall disperse with the morn;
For grac’d with fresh laurels from Fame’s fairest shores,
His Illustrious Successor has smil’d on our Shores.

Then, here, whilst in circles of social relation,
Our hearts and our hands join in Commemoration;
From Australia’s first dawn—let her trophies proclaim,
That her Standard of Worth stamps her Passport to Fame

[Gumtree]

This poem will have more meaning if you've read the article in the link to  Streeton and Roberts at Curlew Camp at Sirius Cove.

Sirius Cove  - Vivian Smith

We always know much more than we can see
I've read about these painters and their lives,
and looked at photos of the famous camp
with all its luxuries, its bit of grandeur,
And visitors like R.L.S.
Streeton found blue orchids, passionfruit
And inspiration in a sheltered bay
Now it is a tangled wilderness

Privet and lantana grow unchecked
Beside the walk I take around the shore
And yet it still remains a sacred place
Where tawny frogmouths hunch and wait and brood
oom, oom, oom.
 


Privet and lantana are weeds in much of Australia - but it's a bit harsh to say Sirius is now a tangled wilderness - it always was - but without the privet and other introduced species - for which Streeton and Roberts et al are partly responsible.

[Babi]

No need to stop, GUM. I love that description of Sirius Cover. The paintings are beautiful.
And the quote from Paul Hogan. Those prawns must be seriously large creatures, if one
will be enough.
  Love Barrington's tongue-in-cheek poem; really gave me a grin.  You've done a find job
finding us Aussie poems.  I think it must always be a challenge to have to produce a poem to
fit an occasion.  You definitely need skills for that.  Lantana is used here as a flowering shrub,
though not one of our most popular ones.  

 This must be a much smaller harbor:

  Carl Sandburg
     - The Harbor
PASSING through huddled and ugly walls
By doorways where women
Looked from their hunger-deep eyes,
Haunted with shadows of hunger-hands,
Out from the huddled and ugly walls,
I came sudden, at the city's edge,
On a blue burst of lake,
Long lake waves breaking under the sun
On a spray-flung curve of shore;
And a fluttering storm of gulls,
Masses of great gray wings
And flying white bellies
Veering and wheeling free in the open.[/b]
 

[roshanarose]

Barb - My head is full of thoughts of you.  I tried and tried to find a poem that would be appropriate for the circumstances in which you find yourself.  None of them were really suitable, none of them could describe how I feel about what you are going through.  So - I looked up Keats and thought that one way to say I am thinking of you is to repeat a poem I posted here in my early days on Senior Learn.  I didn't know how to post the beautiful pictures the often accompany Keats poetry.  Sensitive friend that you are, you read my mind and added some beautiful pix to my Keats poem.  I was touched and have never forgotten that gesture.  The Poem is :

Original version of La Belle Dame Sans Merci, 1819

Oh what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
    Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge has withered from the lake,
    And no birds sing.

Oh what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
    So haggard and so woe-begone?
The squirrel's granary is full,
    And the harvest's done.

I see a lily on thy brow,
    With anguish moist and fever-dew,
And on thy cheeks a fading rose
    Fast withereth too.

I met a lady in the meads,
    Full beautiful - a faery's child,
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
    And her eyes were wild.

I made a garland for her head,
    And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;
She looked at me as she did love,
    And made sweet moan.

I set her on my pacing steed,
    And nothing else saw all day long,
For sidelong would she bend, and sing
    A faery's song.

She found me roots of relish sweet,
    And honey wild, and manna-dew,
And sure in language strange she said -
    'I love thee true'.

She took me to her elfin grot,
    And there she wept and sighed full sore,
And there I shut her wild wild eyes
    With kisses four.

And there she lulled me asleep
    And there I dreamed - Ah! woe betide! -
The latest dream I ever dreamt
    On the cold hill side.

I saw pale kings and princes too,
    Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
They cried - 'La Belle Dame sans Merci
    Hath thee in thrall!'

I saw their starved lips in the gloam,
    With horrid warning gaped wide,
And I awoke and found me here,
    On the cold hill's side.

And this is why I sojourn here
    Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is withered from the lake,
    And no birds sing. 

Please be aware, that although I am not there in person to support you, I most certainly am in spirit.  Even from this distance I can experience your worry.  There is nothing I can do physically, so I send "full-power" psychic thoughts and hope that the danger passes you by, or hopefully doesn't eventuate in your area.   

Good Luck Barb.

Carolyn

[Babi]

Late Summer Poetry ~ Emily Dickinson   'T WAS later when the summer went Than when the cricket came, And yet we knew that gentle clock Meant nought but going home. 'T was sooner when the cricket went Than when the winter came, Yet that pathetic pendulum Keeps esoteric time. Famous Poets and Poems about Summer Link to: Summer Poems   ~~~   Discussion Leaders: Barb &Fairanna

 I remember when you first posted that poem, ROSHANA, and Barb's beautiful pictures that
accompanied it.

 BARB, I found this in another Doig book, "Prairie Nocturne", and immediately fell in love with it.
I think you will, too.  It is supposed to be the first verse of an old spiritual, but I believe it was
written by Ivan Doig since it's origin is not identified in his Acknowledgments.  Oh, I do wish it
was an 'oldie',  and I could hope to find the rest.

   "Does the hawk know its shadow?
   Does the stone roll alone?
   Does the eye of the rainbow
   Ever weep like our own?
      I am vexed
         I am hexed.
         I kneel at all Your thrones.
      One of so many
         Just another praying Jones."