Under The Mallee Bough

  The Handkerchief.. The Handkerchief. . If memory serves, and doth serve me well, ‘Twas a chance meeting on the steps of St. Paul’s, Was a service for some civil event or other, Tho’ what, for the life of me, one no longer recalls, But I was passing on those wide, gracious steps, When it caught my eye that her hanky she dropped, Was pure chance I was there to snatch it from the wind, And I remember thinking ; “what a delicate thing”… Unusual for a woman of these times, When forceful character is demand of the independent kind, To clutch an embroided haberdash’d cloth so fine, Seemed to me to frame a delicate but thoughtful mind. Another fortunate stroke of fickle luck, Happened as I politely proffered it back, For that sprightly wind then tried to snatch her hat, And she had to act quickly to repel such attack, So she, and me with hat and hanky in tow, Made our way to a sheltered elbow, ...

  A Murmur of People. A Murmur of People. Like the murmur of starlings sweeping across the sky, With no discernible reason nor why, They change direction with little more than sudden swing, So does the human mob sweep all before its fickle whim, Like a murmur of birds in full flight, The petulance of demand backed with political might, Be it completely foolish, demented or just profit scented, So does the human mob sweep all before it strikes, To break, smash, destroy every created thing, The vacuous cry of its right, a trumpet of raucous note, No melodic tune, just  blunt, abstract screeching rote, Spoken in a stuttering, stumbling, ill-conceived trope, One in all in murmur of blind faith sweeping across the sky, No reason, no inspiration, no discernible reason why, Just one long petulant, lamenting cry!

  Patience. The girl with the side long gaze…c. 1470.. Petrus Christus Patience. Across the table she does patiently sit, While I pour forth with my urbane wit, Not a flinch of eye nor lift of brow, Gives away what she’s doubting now, That my weakness lay not in my verbs, But rather in my prolix words. So there she sits and there she knows, More solid in sound than an auctioneer’s close, Her sympathy smile like his gavel blows, Her words as gentle as a nurse’s touch, Never a hint that I am too garrulous, In the playful world of cunning men, She reveals so little, Because she knows so much!

  Gaia. . . The Punished Son, 1778 …by Jean Baptiste Greuze Gaia. . . Nature destroys you before it kills you, She employs many means by which to break you, Calamity, disease, emotional distress, if you please, Before she kills you. She takes no prisoners, Shows no mercy, Spares no entity, But like the slow burn of spindle and bearing, We suffer the grind of pointless wearing. Look to no-one to ease the pain, For it is yours only..and so it will remain, Like the old red hen bent neck and dying, Set upon by the others, younger and thriving, There will be no ache relieving, From those you thought willing, To ease your anguish, To be thoughtful and forgiving. For with every caress, every patient soothe, Your end is not impeded..but in a way more crude, Does their kindly words assuage their own serious doubt, Give succour with such sympathetic, altruistic flout, But in vain, ...

  The Last Ecstasy of The Forbidden Fruit. The Last Ecstasy of the Forbidden Fruit. .. A Play. A play of one set, one act. Characters..: Brother Brian Hurley..a stern Seminarian.(trainee for the priesthood). Millitich..an aged Serbian of generous proportion. He carries a blackthorn walking stick. Fr. Stephan O’Brian ..an aged priest . Allesandra…a middle-aged waitress of The Spiked Echidna Café. Scene..A heavily wooded office of a church..there is a crucifix on the wall, a statue of the Virgin Mary with child standing on one side of a Reubens print framed on the wall, with a matching statue of Jesus Christ with bleeding heart shown in the statue on the other side. The Seminarian, Brother Hurley sits at a table with a scattered array of brass candlesticks and religious paraphernalia of which he is polishing with “Brasso”…He turns to the audience, and converses in monologue as he busies himself polishing a candlestick. Br...