Under The Mallee Bough

  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.