Under The Mallee Bough

  Old Man… “Sympathy” by artist Briton Riviere in 1878. I have reached an age where.. I am no longer inclined to have any regrets, I no longer have luxury of time to repay any debts.. I no longer feel the necessity to humbly explain my moods, And I no longer have the patience to hear the banter of fools. I have reached an age where.. If I take example to the Radio National programs, Where I am encouraged to enthusiastically embrace, A new age of inclusion of every strange stripe of disgrace, Of every stupid absurdity and its accompanying research data’d, That proves that much older saying of a fool and their money soon parted.  I have reached an age where.. I feel it is hypocritical to hand-wringing empathy show, When there’s not a bloody thing we can do or can ever bestow, That would change the course of history to return what once was stole, And this seeking of the universal perpetrator of tho...

  Love is an Equation. (a song) With every new friendship, and all its entice, Love doesn’t decrease, it just multiplies, With every passing of breath, in that ending demise, Life doesn’t cease; it’s just a compromise. (chorus) Love is an equation, A moment of sudden elation, The pause before persuasion. A catch of breath before it falls. * When we fall in love again, even not young at all, We be all as young children, when love it comes to call, And though it be many reasons, and maybe any cause, The hunger it never ceases, it’s just a long, lonely pause. (chorus) Love is an equation, A moment of sudden elation, The pause before persuasion. A catch of breath before it falls. * If we are awaiting answers, like a bus before it calls, We could be waiting forever, like a spoilt expectant fool, For love it gives no reason, allows no compromise, It gifts and takes at l...

  Love Me Tender. Scene: It is late evening after dinner..a fire burns briskly in a low height brazier in the centre of the small circle of trailers and a couple of caravans where can be seen from the light of the flames the painted signs advertising the circus of which the folk gathered sitting on bales of hay around the fire belong. There is emblazoned in red and black on the side of a long, horse-box trailer ; “Dangling Bros’ Circus”…on a caravan is the announcement of the next town in the itinerary of their tour, but with a pasted paper sash across the dates and location with the scrawled word “Cancelled” written on it. The folk sitting around the fired brazier look glum and dispirited. They consist of the owner and Master of Ceremonies of the circus; Kevin Cotton, His partner and wife, Beverly, who serves as acrobat and “Lion Tamer”(of in fact two trained Samoyed dogs, whose coats have been clipped to make them look like they have a lion’s m...

  I Sometimes Hunger. I sometimes hunger for the impossible, Like the moth doth for the star, I sometimes yearn for the memory, Like a migrant for his land afar. I likewise dream of the pleasure, Tho’ I confess ‘tis mostly in vain, For there’s not a God in Christendom, Could conjure herself, when I speak her name. Tho’ in my vanity seeking, To re-claim that pleasure that was mine, I see no fault needs forgiving, In visiting such a moment in time. For let us admit if nothing, There are moments once lost to one self, Though be no fault of our choosing, Begs no redeeming, what was a delightful indulge.

  Flirting with the Ladies. Of course we men flirt with the ladies, And why should we not try, Does not the honey bee flirt with the flowers, Does not the hummingbird flirt with the sky? Mark the loquacious mopoke, with its subtle lover’s song, And what of the curdling howl, of a dingo all night long? And of the wide, vast, expanse of ocean, With its currents, deep waters and lagoons, Does it not reflect the sensuous glory, Of a brilliance of shine from the moon? So leave us please sing our love songs, To our Helen or Kate or Kim Soon, With all the passion and hunger, Of a wild beast’s mating croon. We are but singing as a loving swain, Serenading to the women, mostly in vain, Attracting attention in our exaggerating swoon, Under a new and full, September Moon. So of course, we will flirt with the ladies, Indeed, damn us if we don’t always try, Presenting them flowers, poems or h...

  Let my heart stay young…(A prayer). “The calling of St. Joseph.” Let my heart stay young, Like the Gardens of Gethsemane stay young, Let my heart seek love’s joy, Like a child would harbour a favoured toy, Let me, in this, my last remaining times, Embrace that joy granted, of love sublime. While all about is awry with turmoil and strife, Let me serenely sail through on love’s delight, While all about is bent to sorrow and pain, The heart will reside in comfort of love’s domain. Don’t force my heart to grow old, Like the Gardens of Babylon have grown old, Don’t soak my heart with saddened tears, Before I have reached my terminal years, Leave me if I may, sing Aphrodite’s sensuous song, Praising her beauty in loquacious tongue, Prithee. . . Leave my heart stay young!