WalkaboutsVerse
by David Franks; welcome!
WalkaboutsVerse
by David Franks; welcome!
This fully-linked e-scroll has my collection -
Walkabouts: travels and conclusions in verse;
plus info. and tunes for the, related, C.D. -
Chants from Walkabouts (unaccompanied).
(Both an A4 paperback of this work and the
above C.D. have been given to some libraries:
click on VERSO INFO. to find the the details.
For a © &/or ℗ request, please do the same.)
To navigate, you may either scroll along or use the links:
THE BLURB l Or davidfranks.webs.com
VERSO INFO. l (Gigs, photos, messages,
CONTENTS l E. trads & hymns, etc. -
FIRST POEM l post-WALKABOUTS -
EMAIL LINK l with a link back to here.)
Or you may hear me at: myspace.com/walkaboutsverse
(where you'll also find a blog-scroll of this collection, etc.).
About the poet and the poetry:
David Franks was born and, after a long time away, lives
in England. The four-part collection has travels & conclusions,
in poems and songs, from his nomadic first-thirty-six years.
The experience behind the verse includes shoestring-travel
through about forty countries, A-grade junior sport,
a B.A. in humanities, four technical certificates in manufacturing,
plus several years on the shopfloor. The style is mostly direct;
and the substance informative, humorous and didactic. HOME
© David Franks 2003
All rights reserved
Received and catalogued by the British Library
Walkabouts
Franks, David John, 1966 -
First published in 2003 (tunes added 2008)
Self-published and printed in Great Britain by David Franks:
P.O. Box 999
Newcastle upon Tyne
NE99 4UL
Email address: david1franks@yahoo.com
(For a © &/or ℗ request, please use either address above. And, below, please find info. on -
CHANTS FROM WALKABOUTS, plus PERFORMANCES/PURCHASES.)
CHANTS FROM WALKABOUTS is a C.D. of unaccompanied songs and poems-sung from this
collection .
The 18, all self-recorded on a P.C., are (showing here, as on the C.D.'s
back-cover,
for easy reference, both the book's page
numbers and this website's, linked, numbers - which are also found
in the CONTENTS, and where, as of 2008, you will find, at each, along with the words, a
simple
letter-notation tune-summary, such that you'll have to hear me to get the
rhythm, sorry):
PAGE NO. WEB NO.
01. WALKABOUT WITH MY PEN…………………………………..12...…………………2
02. STATE TO STATE………………………………………………..13…………………...5
03. LAND’S END TO JOHN O’ GROATS…………………………...15………………….10
04. TO CARE AND SHARE…………………………………………..27………………….33
05. IMPRESSIONS OF LONDON IN 1997..………………………….33………………….42
06. JUST SUBSIST……………………………………………………58…………………101
07. ON HONEYMOON!...……………………………………………..61………………...107
08. YOUR SALT UPON MY LIPS……………………………………62………………...108
09. WE GO TOGETHER……………………………………………...63.………………..109
10. THE MERSEY AT DIDSBURY…………………………………...64………………...111
11. FONDLY AND VIVIDLY………………………………………….70………………...123
12. ENTRÉE……………………………………………………………73………………...130
13. LANCASHIRE SUNG SIMPLY…………………………………...76………………...136
14. IN A SMALL POT…………………………………………………78………………....141
15. LINGOLF…………………………………………………………..79………………...144
16. WINDERMERE.............................................................................86..........................159
17. TEES TO TYNE: FIRST IMPRESSIONS………………………...87………………...162
18. CHRISTMAS SUNG SIMPLY…………………………………...107.………………...230
(P.S: I now also try English traditional and Christian music, with recorders, keyboards, and voice.)
(linked site)
part one (blank verse)
1 0 - 19: HELPED BY “THE OLDS”; SCRIBED 2000 A.D.
part two
WALKABOUT WITH MY PEN
(travels)
3 PICTURES
5 STATE TO STATE ♫
8 CRONULLA
10 LAND’S END TO JOHN O’ GROATS ♫
11 OTHER SIDE
13 UNDERDONE
15 TOREO
19 JET
25 UBUD
26 UP ULURU?
27 ADELAIDE
29 MAZDA
30 WAX - BETWEEN COTTON AND LEATHER
31 AOTEAROA
32 THE POLYNESIAN CULTURAL CENTRE
33 TO CARE AND SHARE ♫
35 GROWING UP
37 RODEO DRIVE
39 FOR A MATE
40 EFFICIENCY
41 EVEN AFTER LINCOLN, STEINBECK, AND KING
42 IMPRESSIONS OF LONDON IN 1997 ♫
48 THE PROMS
49 OXFORD
51 NAIROBI
52 OUT OF PLACE
53 WHY THE YEW?
56 CENTRES
58 THE OLD BULL
60 GREEN-LIGHT
62 BIT OF EACH
64 LIVERPOOL
65 NORTH WALES
67 AT A POND
71 ME AT 33
part two (cont.)
WALKABOUT WITH MY PEN
(conclusions)
75 IMMIGRATION’S LEFT AND RIGHT
77 OVERCOME
78 “PROGRESS”
80 HUMANITY
84 NATIONALISM WITHOUT CONQUEST
85 LANDMINES
86 ROBOTS
87 FOR THE POOR
88 FROM 20TH-CENTURY SEXUALITY
91 TAX
92 PLASTICS
94 MOROCCAN TEA
95 A GOOD LIFE
96 PARADIGMS
98 REREGULATE
99 ONE RUGBY?
100 MONOPOLY
101 JUST SUBSIST ♫
102 CONGESTION
103 EQUAL AWARD-PAY
106 TESTING 4,3,2,1
107 ON HONEYMOON! ♫
108 YOUR SALT UPON MY LIPS ♫
109 WE GO TOGETHER ♫
part three
WALKABOUT LANCASHIRE
(travels)
110 MORE PICTURES
111 THE MERSEY AT DIDSBURY - SPRING 2000 ♫
112 FROM AN ECCLES FLAT - SPRING 2000
113 FOLLOWING THE SUN - SPRING 2000
114 CLITHEROE CASTLE’S VIEWS - SUMMER 2000
115 SUNDAY CRICKET AND BERRIES - SUMMER 2000
117 WYTHENSHAWE PARK - SUMMER 2000
118 WHALLEY ABBEY...WHAT TALES? - AUTUMN 2000
119 WARRINGTON MUSEUM AND LIBRARY - AUTUMN 2000
121 IRONY IN LANCASTER - AUTUMN 2000
122 PROUD PRESTON - AUTUMN 2000
124 FROM MORECAMBE - AUTUMN 2000
125 BLACKBURN CATHEDRAL - AUTUMN 2000
126 WATERSCAPES OF OLDHAM - AUTUMN 2000
127 TO SPACIOUS SOUTHPORT - AUTUMN 2000
130 ENTRÉE/AT BOLTON’S ALBERT HALL: OPERA SONG - WINTER 2000/1 ♫
part three (cont.)
WALKABOUT LANCASHIRE
(conclusions)
136 LANCASHIRE SUNG SIMPLY ♫
137 SEEN
138 AN OPIUM
140 HOUSING
141 IN A SMALL POT ♫
142 UNCLES
143 OLYMPICS OR GLOBALISATION?
144 LINGOLF ♫
145 DOT-BALL
147 DIEDACTIC
148 AUDIENCE LOST
150 TEARS
152 HISTORY IS A FOREIGN COUNTRY?
153 WISE?
part four
FURTHER NORTH
(travels)
155 FURTHER PICTURES
157 THE MANY ELEMENTS OF BUXTON - SUMMER 2001
158 LYTHAM AND ST. ANNE’S - SUMMER 2001
159 WINDERMERE - SUMMER 2001 ♫
160 MACCLESFIELD - SUMMER 2001
161 AT THE CAPTAIN COOK BIRTHPLACE MUSEUM - SUMMER 2001
162 TEES TO TYNE: FIRST IMPRESSIONS - SUMMER 2001 ♫
163 ON A CLEAR DAY - SUMMER 2001
164 BARROW-IN-FURNESS, SEEN WITH A PAL - SUMMER 2001
165 HOLYHEAD AND SURROUNDS - SUMMER 2001
166 COLOURFUL LLANDUDNO - SUMMER 2001
167 WITHIN CHESTER CATHEDRAL’S CLOISTERS - SUMMER 2001
168 ONCE CHURCHES - SUMMER 2001
169 PERFIDA GENS - SUMMER 2001
170 TO RIVINGTON - SUMMER 2001
171 AMONG MY HEDERA - SUMMER 2001
176 THROUGH THE NIGHT - AUTUMN 2001
177 SAT UNDER A BRIDGE’S RIVER-FLOW - AUTUMN 2001
180 WHITLEY BAY FISHERMEN - AUTUMN 2001
183 A BROWN HARE - AUTUMN 2001
184 THE QUICK CLUBBERS’ TROT IN NEWCASTLE - AUTUMN 2001
185 ON A SATURDAY - AUTUMN 2001
187 A SOUTH SHIELDS WALKABOUT - AUTUMN 2001
188 REMEMBER, REMEMBER - AUTUMN 2001
189 TO SEE AN UNCLE, AGAIN - WINTER 2001/2
190 BIRDWATCHERS’ BUDE - WINTER 2001/2
191 WEATHERED PIPES...SOMEWHERE - WINTER 2001/2
192 A SECOND BALLET - WINTER 2001/2
193 THE 35TH MORPETH NORTHUMBRIAN GATHERING – SRING 2002
195 MUSING ON WIMBLEDON - SUMMER 2002
197 HISTORIC HEXHAM - AUTUMN 2002
198 FOR HIS CARING OF PROGENY - AUTUMN 2002
199 BEDE’S WORLD - WINTER 2002/3
part four (cont.)
FURTHER NORTH
(conclusions)
201 ATLAS SIBLINGS - NEWCASTLE UPON TYNE, AND LONDON
202 IN HANDS HUMAN
203 IN SITU
205 SUFFERING
206 MY DIET
209 PEOPLE LOSE
210 SOME-DESIGNERS’ DIAPHANOUS ERRS
211 AT FRONT LINES
212 REMEMBER THEM?
213 MORE AMOR PATRIA
215 MOODS MORE NICE
216 FOR PEACE
217 A MULTICULTURAL WORLD OF CARRYING
218 THERE IS A U.N.
220 AMERICANS
221 MAJORS
223 SERIOUS SERVING
224 THE NATIVITY
225 AFTER PSALM 118:9 AND MATTHEW 4:8-10
227 ROTATING SHIFTS
228 REPATRIATING
229 JOYS OF LIFE
230 CHRISTMAS SUNG SIMPLY/AS GOSPELLERS HAVE SAID ♫
part one (longish blank-verse poem - all the rest are below 50 lines)
1 0 - 19: HELPED BY “THE OLDS”; SCRIBED 2000 A.D. HOME
Another branch on ye tall English Tree
(A family tree with three grandparents
Mancunian and one yon Colchester),
I was born in Manchester’s St. Mary’s,
Just before kick-off, on the World Cup Day
(Nine hundred years from that other battle;
And three hundred from London’s Great Fire)
When hosts England defeated Germany.
And I came out of the womb quite wounded:
A clubfoot to boot - my lighter left foot.
This Foot and some scoliosis with it
Have not missed me out of much through life,
But early on proved a bedtime hassle.
My earliest learn-to-walk-and-talk years
Were based within a semidetached house,
Not distant from Didsbury’s Old Bull pub,
Nor the Cong. of my Christmas Day christening.
I can picture nothing at all from then
Save vague memory of going to bed
With my feet in bedding-tearing braced-boots -
Designed, I take it, to stop reclubbing.
In perhaps what was a first in-spite-of
(I have sometimes since gone against some grains),
Apparently I learnt to walk quite young
(Aided about by a walker at first,
Plus, it seems, surgeons who’d unclubbed me well)
And, enjoyed it so, was soon plonked instead
(Partly for the purpose of parental peace)
In a containing, back-garden, playpen -
Walls contented with, then contended with:
Student, wanderer; student, wanderer...
Via request in a Northern accent
(A tongue soon to be kidded-out of me
Upon emigration to Australia),
I’d be walked with Sis. to “Feed the duckies,”
At places to which lately I’ve returned
(As partly has that long-lost first accent):
Fog Lane Park; the Mersey at Didsbury.
And, at night, first books were read out to me
“Again” and “Again!” by my Mum or Dad,
Alongside my first of hundreds of beds.
(In extension, I now like to study -
Read to write - publications at least twice.)
In the first year of the “Disco Decade”
(Not back, to live, till Hong Kong’s repat. year -
Alighting on a sunny Swithun's day!),
Newly arrayed in a gunslinger’s kit
(Fighting or flighting home-grown discontent?),
Via Switzerland and a plane-bomb scare,
Before Tel Aviv and other short stops,
We four were greeted like many before -
Some two hundred years from Captain Cook -
At, in a Cockney rhyme, “Steak and Kidney,”
By, in an Aussie slang, our “Relies,”
On, to my Olds, “A summer winter’s day.”
Such days, too, are beyond my memory,
Except for playing with, in ray-lit air,
Dust - the dust of a Waterloo high-rise;
From whence, with Sis., Mum and her Scottish friend,
Would be made weekly one-stop train trips to
Paddy’s - a market with, for mine, “Doggies.”
Doggies - those space wanting/needing cute pets,
That, at least through novelty time, kids love;
Doggies - some innocent traffic-risk strays,
Others kept and trained sanity-savers;
Doggies - some innocent shoe-soilers,
Others good fitness-mates of clean owners.
(These days, I’m with a “no pets” landlord’s rule,
Though, around school, I spent time with many.)
Nature, nurture, or a knitting of both?
From this council-flat (I’m told by my Olds),
Wearing braced-trousers and a shoulder bag
(The latter custom has survived the years),
I’d often want to collect the mail -
To collect to Know my grandparents’ news,
To Know, I now interpret, of others:
Other places, other people - their lot.
(Plus, may I add, to at least try and help.)
And this links with desires to See things:
Years hence, during my maturing twenties,
I preferred plastics-work to electrics -
I could See the changed-shots of changed-settings.
And my Foot - ‘twas an infant’s obsession,
Leading me to grind, to self-improve.
Nature or nurture? No - a work of both;
To me, the fraction’s the question.
My Dad’s
Electrical abilities employed,
We moved to a Yowie Bay detached-house,
And I into Yowie Bay Infant School.
Now, in retained-fragments (“spots of time,”
In William Wordsworth’s words), I remember...
One spot, a tape of Peter and the Wolf -
Thrilling; as was role-playing firemen -
Though only for the yellow-raincoat set!
(A “group-think,” in military language.)
Other spots are the crèche where Mum worked hard;
An enchanting turtle in my school’s tank;
Early shoots of capitalism, like:
“My dad’s got ten billion million, so there!”
(These “shoots,” through all my school years, were well-fed -
While socialism was malnourished);
Old hopscotch, force-men-back, and hide-and-seek;
Plus esoteric doctors-and-nurses;
Ignorant cowboys-and-Indians games
(Again, sprouting from biased nourishment);
Playing a football-mix - betwixt the codes;
Sore young hands from training at Aussie Rules
(A good
game - for me, began at too young);
Playing tunnel-ball with medicine balls;
And a first ruler-smack across the “Moon”;
Stars - stars, as carrots, for getting through books,
Stuck onto a competition wall-chart;
And kidding leading, from “Lorry,” to “Truck.”
Such was the start of my new ‘isation -
English Boy to Anglo-Australian
Or, now, Australianised-Englishman
(Either
nationals spot other background)...
Who, as a positive nationalist,
Respects ab- and Aboriginal rights;
Who doubts economic emigration
Plus refugees not in their closest refuge
(That is, from this point in time on, at least);
Who is aware of medical reports
Re sunlight/Vitamin D and skin-tone;
Who attempts to understand history,
And make due allowance for its effects;
Who has heard the globe-as-melting-pot voice
(And, beyond English and Aussie training,
Is, frankly, much a product of the globe),
But likes cultures and borders, with fair trade
(Eco-travel and lore parts of such trade),
Via a stronger United Nations,
Including - his own - the English nation;
Whose anglicises is slowly regrowing
(Anglicises of the better kind, I hope):
Roosting by experience and practise,
Appreciating unique home-plusses,
But fighting, in a Way, some home-dislikes,
And remaining caring of world affairs
(Not forgetting worldly ills seen first-hand),
Thereby making something of it - this past.
From hand- to foot-passing drills/New to Old,
I began seven years of club soccer,
And further years of calisthenic drills
(Team push-ups, chin-ups, sit-ups, and leg-ups;
Solo skipping and hopping on my Foot -
A half of a Morris dancer, of sorts!),
At the up-and-go-searching age of five -
Get ‘em while they’re young, like the banks do!
Good times, mostly, for my family and me:
Nil-nil and latish in the second half
(And latish in my football career!),
A 12-years B-grade hard-fought grand-final
(Always trialled - never picked for the A’s),
My family closely edging the sidelines
(Extra feeling for my just-widowed Nan;
My Grandad-trainer-keenest-fan had died -
They having followed us from Manchester)
As they cheered and urged our team onward...
And a long firm drive from outside their box!
Me slowish (hadn’t scored all year) but there -
There for this once, there for the deflection...
Off goalie to my boot and into net.
We won and went on, as A-2’s, to be
Trophied “Most Improved Team ‘79” -
The Miranda Magpies, in the striped strip.
(Missing my Grandad’s interest in the game,
I stopped on a “Seven Years Service” badge.)
From a one-minute walk over the road
To a fifteen-minute suburban hike,
Or, more often, a five-minute pedal,
My schooling moved to Yowie Bay Primary,
And, in some ways, the “nourishment” curved up
(As with the just-opened Opera House):
I recall videos and projects on
The hard-homing of Pacific salmon -
Impressively muscling the river’s flow,
To sow their seeds and die in calmer climbs;
And videos and projects on Bushmen -
The fine Bushmen of the Kalahari,
Plus (equally finely tuned to their lands)
Those of Aboriginal Australia;
A spear making-and-throwing contest,
Preparing fires and bush-tucker food,
Before a visit from the experts who,
After some indigenous chant and dance,
Showed easy us kids how things should be done;
And then being moved by a film, Storm Boy.
(Years later, at uni., I would add on -
To this and high-school narrative-study -
In-depth anthropological research
On Aboriginal society:
That is, both pre- and post-colonial,
Which involved, at last, socialist viewpoints;
Partly, as has already been hinted,
We are products of self-experience,
And, from the latter, I’ve concluded that
The disposition of what has become
Mainstream Australian society
Owes some to, in more ways than one, Kooris;
Plus that First Ways have been, and should be, kept -
Hard-won Aboriginal survival.)
As well as soccer, through primary school,
Were goes, of varying scope and depth, at:
Softball - one, not so soft, flat on my nose,
Thereby tonne-heavy for a lengthy time;
Touch- and sometimes tackle-type rugby league;
Snooker and pool, darts, and table tennis;
Go-carting, cycling and skateboarding;
Beach body-surfing and pool lane-swimming,
Or diving and ducking in backyard pools;
Long-course runs, like the Sutherland-to-Surf;
Cricket - in a low grade, carrying-bat
And managing to spin the ball both ways;
As well as pastime games like dominoes
(Including group-effort long-chain tumbling),
Hula-hoops, yoyos, Rubix cube, and draughts.
Plus, at the end of these fun years, tennis:
Down by one match-point and five rapid games,
In an A-grade junior tennis comp.,
A match against an old sparring partner,
His team and my team all well acquainted,
A local derby of Bill Gilmour’s school
(Bill Gilmour of world refereeing fame);
The season before, my wayward backhand
Having lost for the team a mixed doubles
And, thereby, that long-season’s grand-final -
All sessions and sweat to no avail!
I began giving the ball some more air
(The sole gamesmanship I ever used was -
Slow things down when down, and speed-up when up),
And, that time, it worked - seven games to five.
From the Primary motto “Justum Tene"
To the “Ardentibus Nil Ardui”
Of Port Hacking High School, my test results
(As with the tennis and other sports comp’s),
Overall, were just above average:
A school report labelled me “a battler” -
Dedicated but lacking “confidence”
(Latter is, surely, partly conditional);
And it’s true that I choked in some exams -
Yet to learn the fine Art of perspective,
That saw me better through tech. and uni.
(“A slow-grower” hindsight reports might add),
Helped me shoestring through say forty countries
(“Say” for the world’s boundaries sure have changed),
Plus reach the station of “works manager.”
And this “fine Art” came hard to me from chance,
Plus learning, in time, to cope with chances:
“Look, he’s wearing one of his sister’s shoes,”
He laughed, pointing. “He’s got a girl’s shoe on!”
This event chanced upon me in first-form,
And was to do with my shorter left leg -
Or the raised heel lifting it equal.
I left the playground of that “knowing” group,
And learnt to cut cardboard-inners instead.
(So far, I have suffered little back pain,
Having lifted, I gauge, my workshop share -
In perspective, a minor injury.)
From the school of knocks to schooling in sex -
The “esoteric doctors-and-nurses”:
What do teachers say? What don’t they say?
I remember, “If it’s not on, it’s not on”;
As well as, “Getting off before Central”;
And brief talk on other contraceptives.
I don’t recall being told the age-law;
Nor about foreplay to get wet and hard,
Before either guides it slowly inside;
Nor how sodomy, being much tighter,
Is more risky re blood-carried disease;
Nor any mention of alternatives,
Like mutual hand (with oil) massage;
Nor of Her need for post-sex affection
(Equally strong as His need to finish?).
But perhaps enough by teachers was said
(In words I can no longer remember),
For pregnant teens must have been rare - if there;
And when AIDS arrived so did Grim Reaper,
Warning on how many, from a germ’s view,
Each of a couple may be sleeping with.
And, as for my school-sexuality,
Male friends have always been non-sexual
(Friends, rather, in music, sports and suchlike),
While hetero-sex came not till late teens.
On, from “doctors-and-nurses,” to farmers,
Oklahoma! - an end-of-year school-bill
(Signalling Americanisation),
With a neighbour in a leading song-role,
His family to mine giving tickets -
Was my first viewed stage-play of any kind,
And, though I’ve seen few since, I liked the form
(If not the Americanisation):
Something for a more set future, maybe.
Other plays - non-musical - through school were:
Lawler’s Summer of the Seventeenth Doll,
On migrant cane-cutters’ concerns;
Plus, on power, Williamson’s The Club.
And, as for my own theatrical roles
(Beyond the jams with my musical friend),
From high-school forth, I’ve liked bathroom warbling.
P.C’s, too, were embryonic as I
Began those six awkwardish study-years:
Within grounds within walk of home again,
A small computer-room had just opened,
With two terminals, per the assembly,
Available for lunchtime usage -
I.T. not being taught in class back then;
Among the few - “Tech-Heads” - that took the call
Was a friend who guided me to BASIC
And simple key-games like Formula One,
Loaded firstly by tape, later by disc.
(But for brief clicks at tech., uni. and work,
I’ve lost touch and have never surfed the Net -
Finger-walking a library, I gauge.)
“Try to nut through and get the gist of it.”
So spoke one of our science schoolers,
In reference to a theory of much complaint.
Getting to Know more-and-more my limits,
I took to - and still take to - gathering,
Plus giving, the general “gist” of things.
Testing and strengthening this newly-found Way
Were, in English classes, the study of:
Judith Wright’s, and Kenneth Slessor’s, poems;
The novel, The Getting of Wisdom
By Henry Handel Richardson;
Plus, adding to past primary-projects
And preluding uni. work, as above,
Aboriginality in Coonardoo,
Novelist - Katharine Susanna Prichard;
as well as the previously-mentioned plays.
(“What, then, is the writer saying? And how?”
An English teacher repeatedly asked.)
And there was another schooling in Gist:
The general gist of our misdeeds -
Written and written, down and down a page,
During lunchtime or after school, even!
(Smoother the paper, more will the wash run?
Or, from William Shakespeare’s Claudio,
Within Measure for Measure, “Liberty:
As surfeit is the father of much fast”?)
Leading me out to a bit of Nature
(“A bit” compared with the likes of Wordsworth
Or, indeed, latterly, Attenborough),
Throughout primary- and early high-school,
Was involvement in Yowie Bay Cubs and Scouts,
Culminating in a Perth jamboree -
Reached by my second long jet-plane journey,
And involving a short joy-plane tour,
In a small feel-the-flying aircraft,
Somewhere around what seemed a huge campsite;
Further partakes were orienteering
(Then, mostly for views or other such ends;
Now, increasingly, for the life passed, too -
Along with natural history T.V.,
Old Poetry influential, once more),
Canoeing and kayaking on rivers
(I’ve thought about the Mersey or Irwell,
In-between Manchester and Liverpool...),
Plus knotting and other “rites of passage.”
Family holidays adding to such
Experience of Australia’s outdoors
(There was also one to New Zealand)
Were at, e.g., Forster or Umina,
On New South Wales’s surfy coastline,
And included fishing and sightseeing,
Plus the simple thrill of staying anew.
And Nature-memoirs are the usual gist:
Gumtrees, teatrees, wattles, bottlebrushes;
Kangaroos, cockatoos and cicadas;
The hard-laughing kookaburra chorus;
Plus the cracking storms (ending sultry days),
Some blown by Southerly Busters.
At home,
Early or late in these summertime days,
Breaking from study or such indoor things
(I did, and still do, take other mini-
Breaks at half-past each hour - for hours),
I’d go out to the quarter-acre block
That ran down behind our bungalow,
Within walk of boat-lovers’ Yowie Bay,
In Sydney’s lawny Sutherland Shire;
Once just a means of some sporting practise,
My gardening interest grew green, from
Straight-through lawn-mowing and -edging, into
Composting, mulching and weeding, before
Pruning, plant types and, eventually,
Pelargonium species collection.
(Now, in cooler and more-confined soils,
I grow, and shape, some Hedera helix,
Plus push for native- and veg-planting.)
Meantime, my wartime-trained Dad was growing -
When not creating, well, at his easel -
Most of the types of fare I now consume:
Fine for the body-growing-years before,
My choice of diet, through later high-school
And well beyond, was, frankly, wrong for me;
I had bad acne on both my face and back,
From too much sugar, meat and milk intake,
And building top-heavy on a clubfoot
With, linked, high-protein foods was no wise try;
When at home, at least, I’m a vegan now;
A teetotaller - but for scarce events;
And a non-smoker of any leaf-type -
The slight calm not worth the cost and the throat
(A calm reached freer from just thought-control).
When the ball-size changeover was starting,
During third-form I took to playing golf
(“Thought-control” test if ever there was one!);
First ‘twas done solely as a P.E. sport
(Struggling hard to get the thing off the ground),
Then whenever I could find the free time,
By sixth-form as a junior member,
Before - how now - as a keep-card hobby
(That has replaced stamp- and coin-collecting):
Ninety courses played, in eighteen countries,
And some six single-figure scores, so far...
(A perplexing perpetual pastime.)
During school, I learnt to drive a car, too
(Found much easier than the golfing kind!,
'Twas soon used to steer a small sedan
As high as Thredbo, for Kosciusko;
As far west as Fleurieu Peninsula;
As far south as temperate Tasmania -
Crossing via the ship Abel Tasman;
And as far north as tropical Queensland -
Returning, partly, via a freight train);
Plus, some years before that test, became a
“Naturalised” Australian Citizen -
Though, being underage at the time
Of my family’s hall-ceremony,
Did not make direct declaration of
Allegiance to a queen born on the same
Island as us and all my known forebears.
Either way, I had little care, back then,
For the politics and symbolics of
A system I now find against a Faith
In fair regulated competition,
As well as social cooperation
And basic-security, I’ve since formed.
Nor did I Know of Milton and Cromwell:
Early, competent, brave republicans.
After high school, I took an unfinished
(Though I later converted its subjects
Into one of three tech. certificates -
Preferring moulding to wiring, as said)
Electrical Fitters’ Apprenticeship,
Which, as it was a quite highly paid one
And as I was based at home during it,
Enabled me to save for the shoestring-
Travel and study in Humanities,
That, along with all the above, led to
(In the Old medium found best for me)
The penned Walkabouts, which may now be read -
Newly shown, I hope, where I’m coming from.
part two
WALKABOUT WITH MY PEN
(travels)
2 WALKABOUT WITH MY PEN
(TUNE:
C F G G A A G G
C G A A G G F F
C A A A G G F F
C G A G A G F F
C F G G A A G G
C F G G A G F F)
Once drove an old sedan up north,
From a place in Sydney to Cairns;
Then to Kuranda I went forth
By train, to look without set plans.
I browsed through the trendy market,
With fresh fruits of tropical kind;
Walked to the creek through lush thicket -
Nature’s hand giving peace of mind.
I dined in a scenic cafe;
Then, outside, as I wrote for yen,
Some passing Kooris called-out: “Hey,
You go walkabout with your pen.”
Request or question, I don’t know -
Assured voices, elderly men.
That’s now several years ago,
And I’ve seen the world - with my pen.
3 PICTURES
Photographs and, more so, painted-
Pictures of people and places,
For ends, involve in some cases
Adjustment of what was gathered.
With restrained artistic licence
(To make metre and rhyme with sense),
All matters related here -
Save the love-songs, to be clear -
Did happen to me, no fear,
And time-ordered they appear.
4 PICTURING SYDNEY
A good place to start is Sydney Tower,
With its enthralling panoramic feast:
Olympic grounds - west; to north - the harbour;
And beautiful beaches - north- and south-east.
From what is quite a jumbled C.B.D.,
A good walk is through Botanic Gardens
To the harbour, Opera House, then the Quay -
But other options number in the tens.
5 STATE TO STATE
(TUNE:
C F G F
C F G F
C F G F
C F G F
F G F C
F G F C
F G F C
C F F F)
From Sydney Town,
In uni. break,
I drove out west
To earnings make
Onion picking,
On the fields
Of Echuca,
That year’s yields.
After day’s work,
From Y.H.A.,
A group of us
Would not delay
To walk on down
To the dirt rim
Of the Murray,
For a cool swim.
On one such day,
I do declare,
Some three of us
Had a big dare
To swim across,
From state to state,
The wide Murray -
I took the bait.
Yes, foolishly,
I took the bait -
A choice that I
Would come to hate,
For I almost
Did drown that date,
Making the swim
From state to state.
6 THE PICKER
While picking onions at Echuca,
Betimes I came across a
Man who was, he said, by trade a picker.
A compact and stocky physique had he;
Kind he was to first-time me -
Advising, “You should pick ‘em on your knee.”
Then he told me of his long-kept plan
Of travel, by caravan,
To pick seasoned crops, over a wide span.
But workers’ rates, I knew, were non too fair -
Twenty dollars a tonne, there,
Was all the onion-crop owner could spare.
Though (with tally taken by some louse,
And told to see owner or spouse),
Believe me, they lived in some kind of house.
7 RECENT HISTORY
There’s a place called Sovereign Hill
(Nigh the city of Ballarat),
With dated representations -
And they’re authentic ones at that.
You can pan for gold at the creek,
Write some lines with inkwell and quill,
See bread baked the colonial way
Or a blacksmith at his anvil.
There’s a (pre-plastics) bowling lane
(With everything made in wood),
A painted-photo studio,
And a saloon built as they stood.
Ride in a draft-horse drawn carriage,
See the front gardens of the day,
Read-up on mining history,
Or watch costumed-revellers play.
And, just beside the “old” village,
Should you decide to see some more,
There’s homely accommodation;
But heed - Kooris came long before.
8 CRONULLA
South of Sydney,
Sand and sea -
That’s Cronulla.
Surfies and girls,
Sunbleached curls -
At Cronulla.
The promenades,
The lifeguards -
That’s Cronulla.
A modern mall,
Flats stand tall -
At Cronulla.
9 THE CAMELLIA GARDENS
In Sydney’s Sutherland Shire,
There’s a relaxing place to see:
It’s called the Camellia Gardens,
And one can wander round for free.
Down and along an escarpment
Meanders a thin stony path;
Beside which grow the camellias -
Beaut. autumn-blooms the aftermath.
With the evergreen-camellias
Are a range of native species;
And, atop the leafy hillside,
A shop sells snacks, coffees and teas.
Plus, down below, there is parkland,
Where couples rest as children play;
And they walkabout the fish ponds,
Or the shoreline of Yowie Bay.
(But, regarding plant selection,
With more knowledge, over the years,
On flora, fauna and their links,
I'd say - natives not camellias.
Thus, later, this place touched a nerve -
Joseph Banks Native Plant Reserve.)
10 LAND’S END TO JOHN O’ GROATS
(TUNE:
D G A A B B A A
D A B B A A G G
D B B B A A G G
D A B A B A G G)
At the bold age of twenty-one
(Via Hong Kong, China, Macau),
I flew from Sydney to London -
Land’s End to John o’ Groats my vow.
I took a train out of London,
Found a highway and thumbed a ride;
I headed down toward Brighton,
Then hitch-hiked roads the coast beside.
On the face of my shoulder bag,
A sketched map of Aus. was my tag;
For said a Scot who’d hitched Europe:
“Some emblem may well boost your hope.”
And drivers throughout the island,
Over a two month riding span,
Were the kindest folks I have met -
I swear not once did I get wet!
I stopped overnight in Portsmouth,
And one or two nights in Torquay;
Then headed along to Plymouth -
Still travelling beside the sea.
After viewing rugged Land’s End,
I began the long journey north -
North-east, rather, before a bend,
Somewhere in a bit from Bournemouth.
On the way, I saw relatives,
Whom after leaving I did miss -
Their homes’ cosy atmosphere,
And their local pubs’ good cheer.
And the hitched-lifts came from many:
An off-work Bobbie, a truckie,
As well as on-duty soldiers -
Thanks, and I’ve not said where each was!
I headed west through South Wales,
And viewed Cardiff Arms from afar -
I was hitching with local males,
And they showed me from in the car.
I stayed a while at Swansea -
Saw the local footballers play;
Then hitched north through Llandovery -
Beautiful farmland, I must say.
I slept mostly in B. & B.s,
Where the full breakfasts sure did please;
But also stopped in Youth Hostels,
Where it’s the comradeship that tells.
My favourite sites were Bath, Torquay,
Old St. Andrews (noted shortly),
The road Glasgow-to-Inverness,
The Lakes, plus London’s spots, no less.
From Colwyn Bay, I headed east
To Manchester, my place of birth;
Then on the Lakes my eyes did feast,
Before I passed by Solway Firth.
Onto Edinburgh, Glasgow,
St. Andrews, before Inverness;
Then waves from locals were the go -
Warm folks round John o’ Groats, I’d guess.
11 OTHER SIDE
On the road from Inverness to Glasgow
(A very scenic road it is),
I hitched with a pair - Italiano;
The left-hand-drive Fiat was his.
I think they had taken turns at driving -
I’m not sure from where or how far;
But, when they picked me up from my hiking,
The lady was driving the car.
I recall how warm their greet did feel,
And what a thrilling trip it was;
For, as their hands fought over the wheel,
Our lives came near to loss:
I was sitting tight on the back-right side -
My ears off their argument;
But my eyes surely knew how close beside
The oncoming vehicles went!
We arrived without a scratch at Glasgow,
But it begs this point, I feel -
Why did our forebears decide to go
Either side for the new wheel?
12 GOLF AT KILLARNEY
At Killarney Golf and Fishing Club,
There’s two great courses to be found;
Built on Ireland’s fine Ring of Kerry,
Both are really worth a round.
From the local social Youth Hostel,
I hitched - doing as Irish do;
Then paid to play both the courses,
But missed five holes - Hostel curfew.
The fairways were lush and nicely groomed,
And the course views the best I’ve seen;
With walks beside the lakes and mountains,
I’m proud to say to there I’ve been.
13 UNDERDONE
At the age of twenty-one,
Art and culture were just done.
At the age of twenty-one,
Adventure and sport were fun.
At the age of twenty-one,
For Paris, I was underdone.
14 NIGHT OR DAY?!
In the far north of Sweden
(A "Land of the Midnight Sun”),
A strange thing chanced upon me -
And I’ll tell you, just for fun.
Got off a train late-morning
(Had to catch same one next day)
And trudged far to the Youth Hostel -
Paying for a one-night stay.
I spent the afternoon sightseeing,
Then, after a latish dinner,
Returned to my own small bedroom -
The comfy bed proving a winner.
For I soon dozed into dreamy sleep -
Waking what was just two hours hence;
But my watch was an analogue,
And night or day I couldn’t sense!
I quickly packed all my things
(My train an hour or thirteen on)
And hurried out the bedroom -
The bright sky a sneaky con.
I wandered down the track a bit
(The Hostel office empty),
Before a smiling helpful local
Did kindly enlighten me.
15 TOREO
I’m a fan of the Spanish way -
I like their houses and their food;
But there is one thing I must say -
Their bullfights do upset my mood.
The matadors may be brave folk,
And the tradition an old one;
But what must also be spoke
Is - the bulls’ pain before they’re done.
16 A BEAUTIFUL STAGE
If a couple, with plans to wed,
Asked me, off the top of my head,
For somewhere I thought well in-tune
As a place for a honeymoon,
It would have - flashing back - to be
Beautifully-honed Italy.
17 THROUGH WHAT WAS
During Europe’s summer, ‘88,
At a wall my bag was checked:
A brief smile at what gave it weight...
Sun-cream lid back - mood not wrecked.
I walked past plain buildings and cars,
And entered a small food-store.
Its goods were plain, also: no sweet bars;
The essentials - not much more.
As I bought crispbread with money changed,
A row began, at counter,
Between two, it seemed, Germans estranged -
Clothes, to me, the sole pointer.
I headed back through the wall that was,
Then signed a reunion book.
Reflecting, I’m happy/sad because
The Left-cause, too, has been shook.
18 MONACO AND ITS RAILWAY LOO
Neither by stealth, I was shocked, too,
With the loud wealth By a squat loo.
19 JET
With time-based rail passes,
As many youths still do,
I caught the trains through Europe -
A good time it was, too.
But, late one night that summer,
I ran full-on in vain,
Through quiet streets in Paris,
To catch the London train.
And, at that Paris station,
They closed the doors throughout,
For cleaning through the morning,
Insisting - stragglers out.
So it was that a few of us
Spent the night on the street,
And, I do declare to you,
It left young me dead beat.
Yet there are many stragglers,
Within the human domain,
Spending all their nights as such -
While others own a plane!
20 CHINA AND INDIA
China and India:
Dense populations both;
But China is, by far,
Much more humane - my oath;
For through both I took trains,
And saw the gap in pains.
China and India:
Great cuisines they have both;
But China is, by far,
Much more humane - my oath;
For not once in packed China
Was I begged by a minor.
China and India:
Lasting cultures in both;
But china is, by far,
Much more humane - my oath;
For India does need
Left-policies - indeed!
(China and
India:
Many creatures in both;
But, in this case, China
Is less kindly - my oath;
For, on pain, they fret less
In keeping their food fresh.)
21 BOMBAY PORTER
Awaiting a train in Bombay,
I was shocked into dismay;
For a well-dressed man, built strongly,
Was walking, his hands set free,
Ahead of a bony porter -
Heavy case on head, no quarter.
Shortly later, I watched, again,
As out from the rich-man’s train
Came the scrawny struggling porter -
His thin back now much tauter;
For he writhed as he stretched his loins -
After a quick count of few coins.
22 HIGH HOUSEBOAT
When in India,
I headed north
For the Himalaya.
Up, by train then bus,
To Kashmir -
It was much cooler, thus.
Stayed there on Dahl Lake,
By Srinagar -
For my tight-budget’s sake.
‘Twas a houseboat room:
Run down, low cost -
But there I felt no gloom.
A solo mother -
She had four kids -
Was the floor-manager.
At dawn, her daughter -
The eldest one -
Brought me food and water.
I washed with bucket,
Ate scrambled eggs -
As good as one could get.
From Dahl Lake’s shoreline
To the houseboats,
Canoe trips run just fine.
Day-tripped to Gulmarg,
And played a round -
As always, kept the card.
It is the highest
Green-kept golf-course,
And sure is quite a test!
Played another course,
At Srinagar -
And it, too, I endorse.
For “with-dependants,”
I should, though, add -
War, sadly, still rants.
23 ABOVE EVEREST
When flying from Nepal to Thailand,
I was given a “good-side” seat;
And, as I looked out the plane window,
The view I saw was really neat.
For breaking through a thick sheet of cloud
Were the high Himalayan peaks;
And, rising the highest of them all,
Mount Everest - heaven bespeaks!
24 THROUGH SOUTH-EAST ASIA
A highlight of South-East Asia -
As with other tropical lands -
Is the abundance of fresh fruits:
At cutting which some have deft hands.
And, from these fruits, I’d often choose -
To cool down from tropical heat -
A freshly prepared coconut:
Chopped to drink; lining scooped to eat.
25 UBUD
At Bali’s Ubud,
I wound myself down:
Having done Asia,
It was just the town -
Before Australia
And work to be found.
Staying in a hut
(Traditional ‘twas),
Beside rice paddies,
And just eight dollars,
My mind was at ease -
Calm like a scholar’s.
I read and I mused
Over where I’d been;
Saw Monkey Jungle,
Which is cool and green;
And, from a bundle,
Chose an artist’s scene.
At night, a gecko -
Friendly, on the wall;
By day, a farmer -
At his rice-toil;
And, always, culture -
Ubud’s worth a call.
26 UP ULURU?
Came in a coach from Alice -
Slept nearby overnight;
An early call awoke us -
Just before the morning light.
We were coached to Uluru
As the dawn began to break:
Stopping to take in the view -
A proud sight that rock does make.
Began the steep early-climb,
Which, as marked, has claimed some life;
For youths it was just good time,
But heavy aged-breaths were rife.
An hour or two later,
After gazing from the top,
We returned to the charter -
Kata Tjuta one last stop.
(P.S: in hindsight, I’m sure
That from a distance to view
Is more kind, and more pleasure,
Than climbing up Uluru.)
27 ADELAIDE
In work and study,
I spent four years -
Good years really -
At Adelaide.
A flat by the sea -
Work nearby;
Then full-time uni. -
At Adelaide.
A planned C.B.D.
(With parks all round),
And much more to see -
At Adelaide.
Glenelg; Rundle Mall;
And the markets,
With many a stall -
At Adelaide.
28 ADELAIDE TO SYDNEY
Coaching Adelaide to Sydney
Was always the method for me -
Due to a greatly cheaper fee;
But, as it is
Such a time in a seat to be,
To fly seems bliss.
Sure, by coach, there’s a lot to see,
And sometimes folks did chat with me;
But on those trips, between study,
I’d think like this:
Is it truly worth the saved fee..?..
The plane seems bliss.
29 MAZDA
In Nadi, Fiji, beside the airport,
There’s a course where I played a game.
I was met by a young Fijian lad,
Who told me, “Mazda’s my nickname.”
He accompanied me throughout the round,
And I asked, “Why the name ‘Mazda’?”
He explained that, during a rugby match,
He’d just keep running - "like a car."
I mentioned to him how far I’d driven
An old Mazda four-cylinder.
Then, back into the town, I caught a van,
And, sure enough, ‘twas a Mazda!
30 WAX - BETWEEN COTTON AND LEATHER
Alone, midnight, in a Filipino room,
With our wedding plans into action,
We turned out bulb-light for a candle’s bloom,
And made love unto sleep’s satisfaction.
Preludes were dates, after aunt-helped touch by pen
And warm meetings with other family;
Choice was between twenty-years of children,
Or travel and childless-monogamy.
Sureness of permanency allowed it wet
(Raincoats shelved for others perhaps less-told),
And a bellybutton’s brim being met
Was sticky proof of pleasure birth-controlled.
Symbolic of us, and a decade untamed,
We to dark awoke - sure the candle had waned.
31 AOTEAROA
Separated, I again perceived New Zealand:
The strong Maori culture -
Rangi and Papa,
Plus the haka -
And the reflecting lakes of highland and farmland.
32 THE POLYNESIAN CULTURAL CENTRE
North, on the warm island of Oahu,
There’s a really good place to see:
The Polynesian Cultural Centre -
A centre linked by Christianity;
It’s run by a broad-minded Christian group,
Championing cultures while they preach.
I talked to a few of the kind members,
And here’s an abstract of their speech:
The employees are all uni. students,
Labouring for their study and board;
They come from many Pacific islands,
And are all believers in their Lord;
They are studying for varied degrees,
And working at a number of jobs;
Some work as cultural entertainers,
While others serve the tourist mobs.
I walked around for more than half a day,
Then went to a skilled stage-show at night.
By day, the different island nations
Do shows at their own cultural site;
There’s good Tahitian cooking to be tried,
Tamure dancing and hula, too.
Plus, at night, dramatic fire-walking,
Drums and song, to name you but a few.
33 TO CARE AND SHARE
(TUNE:
D E F# F# G A A G
G A B
C#’ C#’ B B A
D B B B C#’ C#’ B B
D A A A A-B A G G
A B B B
C#’ C#’ B B
A B B B C#’ B A A
D D B B B-C#’ C#’ B B
D A A A B A G G
D B B B C#’ C#’ B B
D A A A B A G G
D D B B C#’ C#’ B B
D A A A B A G G
D B B B C#’ C#’ B B
B B B
C#’ B A A A
D B B B C#’ C#’ B B
D A A A B A G G)
Within sunny California
(Just a wisp of smog arriba),
Not far from L.A.’s Chinatown,
A rich driver looks, with a frown,
At a beggar sat on a crate -
Gaunt, it seems long since she last ate.
As the driver stops at the light,
The beggar moves her hand upright.
But, though the cap clasped holds small cash,
The rich man shares not his large stash.
Yet, to all it is plain to see,
This beggar lives in poverty.
But, like a fifth of humankind,
Little help this woman will find.
For too selfish the wealthy fare
To help the poor - to care and share.
And, in Tijuana, Mexico,
Another has no place to go -
It’s an hour before midnight,
And he’s curled outside a shopping site:
“He is sick,” I’m told, passing by;
“Him and the system,” I reply.
Then my hand to my pocket goes
For all my coins - sixteen pesos.
Enough for three meals - beans and rice -
But, for a home, it won’t suffice.
Yet, to all it is plain to see,
This pauper dwells in poverty.
But, like one fifth of humankind,
Small help this sick hombre will find.
‘Cause too competitive most fare
To change the scheme - to care and share.
In Bangkok and Barcelona,
Bombay, Melbourne and Manila -
Such woes exist all round the globe:
Poor food, poor clothes, and no abode.
These are Maslow’s essential needs,
And they can be met - with good deeds.
The beggars all could leave the street -
With some kit for body and feet.
But voted leaders cut the aid
From which much housing could be made.
Yet, to all it is plain to see,
Too many live in poverty.
But, from the rest of humankind,
A lack of help they tend to find.
For too greedy most snug-ones fare
To fix the need - to care and share.
34 FOR KIN - LAMENTED TO ME
She squats down and rests her head on her knee:
Stretching her muscles - so tired is she.
A quick glance at her watch...time takes so long:
Still three minutes left - must be one more song.
It’s her very last turn upon the stage,
But men are eyeing her - wanting to rage.
She finishes her dance, picks up her things;
To the hope of home and a rest she clings.
But the doorman-come-pimp has other news,
For two customers have money to use.
Wearily she follows to their hotel -
Sometimes she thinks: “Might be better in hell.”
As vain men take turns on the rented bed,
She consoles herself: “I could starve instead.”
Plus the pay for sex is more than for dance,
And it much improves her kin’s circumstance.
35 GROWING UP
During my early twenties,
At one of Europe’s cities,
I was walking late at night
When I came upon this sight:
A street woman seemed dying,
But viewers just kept eyeing.
And, in my often regret,
I, too, did no more than fret.
Then, in my early thirties,
At one of Baja’s cities,
I was walking late at night
When I came upon this sight:
A young hombre was bleeding,
But viewers just kept leaving.
This time, I made the grown bet,
And soon his strong needs were met.
36 WALKABOUT MEXICO
In late December,
1996,
I can remember
Being in a fix -
For time and pesos -
And, thus, unable
To see Mexico’s
Sights commendable.
So, in Tijuana,
I enjoyed the show
At a miniature
Model Mexico.
37 RODEO DRIVE
On visiting Los Angeles,
I thought I’d walk Rodeo Drive;
I’d passed a few up-market shops
When an hombre said: “Take one please.”
‘Twas info. on exploitation,
Which I read that night in my room;
It mentioned of the unfair gap -
Sweatshop-wages to profit-on.
I left him to visit the john,
Which was all clad in marble stone;
Then I walked, past more fortune gowns,
To lunch: four bucks - fair profit-on.
38 THE TOURNAMENT OF ROSES
Having, mostly, enjoyed my visit:
Walking and coaching along the coast,
A Hollywood film in Hollywood,
And plenty of friendliness with it...
During my last morning in L.A.,
I watched on a hotel-room T.V.,
Live from the town of Pasadena,
The Tournament of Roses display.
Perfectionism was on the go,
And it seemed little expense was spared,
As floats covered in flowers went by -
Giving a neat but fleeting show.
Yet, catching the bus to the airport,
I saw the homeless dragging their sacks,
Or begging for cash on street corners,
And thought: “Housing could have been bought.”
39 FOR A MATE
When about to move again,
I went down to a shop
Where one can go and bargain
Away, for not much chop,
Used goods that are, in the main,
No longer worth the cop.
But, from that day, I recall
(Just ahead in the line)
Two young guys - one big, one small -
Cashing goods that looked just fine.
After reckoning them all,
The shop clerk said, in resign:
“Why the hell you sellin’ these -
Don’t you need ‘em no more?”
Neither happy with the fees,
The reply sure sounded sore:
“Our mate is down on his knees -
He’s been kicked right out the door.”
40 EFFICIENCY
On a flight from 'Cisco to New York,
One hour our plane did balk,
As on full-taxiways we dallied
While competing-planes were freed.
Yet, as I looked around the cabin,
Sometime during all this stalling,
It was sadly evident to me
That far too many seats were free.
Then, after a late takeaway tea,
I turned on the New York T.V.,
And saw some adults acting like stars,
About landing a probe on Mars.
Yet, walking Manhattan the next day,
I saw tens with nowhere to stay,
And I wondered just how much housing,
For the poor, that space-wealth could bring.
41 EVEN AFTER LINCOLN, STEINBECK, AND KING
Written at a public toilet by the
Statue of Liberty:
“What of Equality, Fraternity;
And Democracy!?”
The U.S.A. has aided dictators
(Right-Wing leaders, of course),
So some’s bestowal of democracy
Is hypocrisy.
42 IMPRESSIONS OF LONDON IN 1997
(TUNE:
E F# G G A G F# F#
E F# F# F#-G F# E E
E G G G A A G G
E F# F# F#-G F# E E)
Cabs all uniform in their shape.
Good galleries make one gape.
Hard-going people on the move -
Things matter much in this groove.
About the weather lots of moans.
Solicits stuck on pay-phones.
Summer weather - not bad, I’ve felt.
Lads giving a ball a belt.
Real estate is worth so much -
Tenants’ rent sky-high, as such;
Nice stocky buildings all around -
Will some have to hit the ground?
Cheek to jowl: council flats needed -
Stock by demand exceeded;
Building higher seems only way -
Unless less arrive to stay...
Beaut. looking girls from many lands -
Grace gone for capital plans;
Polite folks from many cultures
Do become money vultures.
Veiled women in platform shoes.
High-street beggars in the blues.
Privacy here costs so much -
Partnerships suffer, as such.
See movies and shows from way back;
Of good music there’s no lack;
All-day breakfasts at the good pubs;
An abundance of nightclubs.
Green groomed parklands: the best I’ve seen -
Their gardens kept neat and clean;
Geraniums in flowerpots,
On facades, make pleasing spots.
Floating pubs on the River Thames,
And its bridges - real gems;
Both ways, here, the water goes -
Still in range of tidal-flows.
Children, at park lakes, feed the ducks,
Or watch squirrels take some nuts.
Into ponds, weeping willows sag.
Sharp attacks on those who lag.
43 A BAYSWATER BED-SIT
Arrived in London,
At Heathrow Airport,
With sixty kilos
Of luggage I'd brought.
Found a paper, Loot,
And called an agent;
Stored two heavy bags,
Then to him I went.
For one week of rent,
He'd ensure a bed
Within Bayswater -
A bed-sit, he said.
It was eighty pounds
Per week (nothing more),
With a lift arranged
To the building's door.
Knackered and sleepless,
I took the deal;
Checked-in quickly,
Had a rushed meal.
Collected my bags
(Tube there, shared-van back),
Then carried them up
To my top-floor shack.
A penthouse - no need,
It did me just fine:
A cook-top and fridge,
A table to dine.
Seated, I could watch
The clouds roll by -
Often from the west -
Or jets cut the sky.
There were large plane-trees,
A squirrel or two;
And pigeons dropped by -
Foregrounding the view.
Plus, at dawn, the sun
Shone in from the east -
Filling the small room
As on toast I’d feast.
And, contemplating,
It occurs to me -
If all lived that well,
How great it would be.
But a lot do sleep
Outdoors many nights -
On sheets of cardboard,
Without basic rights.
44 JOB SEARCHING
Once housed in London,
I began searching
The task was trying.
Asked newsagents:
“Manufacturing -
Which paper’s the best?”
They disliked browsing.
Said they did not know,
Then eventually:
Jobsearch is the go.
Employment agents -
Public and private;
Letters; door knocking;
Then work - just pre-debt.
45 PORTOBELLO ROAD
After questing forever,
I bought an old blade-putter
On Portobello Road -
By my London abode.
‘Twas the Saturday market,
And I was pleased with my get
From Portobello Road -
W10 the code.
Also saw the festival,
And many another stall,
At Portobello Road -
A good arts and crafts node.
46 THE NOTTING HILL CARNIVAL
The carnival
Of Notting Hill:
A cultural
Quite-overt bill.
Moving discos
On big lorries -
Their beat echoes
For all to please.
Whistles, drums, hands;
Soca, reggae;
And steel bands:
All make crowds stay.
Red, yellow, green -
Grouped together -
Are often seen,
As is samba.
Huge cloth-people
Are wire-bound -
Wings the staple
Apparel found.
Following floats:
Walking lap-dance,
And some keen folks
Drummed into trance.
People-traffic
Flowing one-way;
Cops terrific -
Keep things okay.
But growth of crowd
Raises food cost:
Touts seem allowed -
Some spirit lost?
And it made me
(Back from my roam),
Culturally,
Feel not-home.
47 A LOSS FOR HUMANITY
Summer's end, '97,
A car crash in France;
Then thousands of cut flowers -
Some bearers in trance.
For Diana broke-even -
Now resting in peace;
A loss for humanity -
Her caring did cease.
For, while taking her perks
(Perks there should not be),
She gave greatly of herself
In kind charity:
Charity good states would free.
48 THE PROMS
We walked through Kensington Gardens,
Then made a left for Albert Hall.
Promenaders were in their tens,
While others had found their stall,
As we took our pre-booked seats,
In a row of restricted view -
Three-quarters of the orchestra.
But the music sure bettered par:
The beautiful sounds of Mozart;
The daring drama of Ravel.
And we liked it - me and a belle.
49 OXFORD
Viewing a river at different quays
Is something I sometimes do;
And a favourite, on the Thames,
Is Oxford, whose studies
Are gems,
And whose parks may calm you.
50 JUST LIKE IN AUS.
In Nairobi,
I played a round -
On which I found
Many a tree,
And fairway ground,
That seemed Aussie:
Conifers plus
Eucalyptyus
Number the trees
A golfer sees.
And my summed scores
On that fine day -
Just like in Aus.,
I’m sad to say!
51 NAIROBI
Where alcohol
And corruption
Tend to spoil
Dickensian-
Like, pro-social,
Neat discretion
On sexual
Instigation -
When with people.
52 OUT OF PLACE
As I paid my bus fee
To leave Nairobi,
A woman caught my eye:
From what I could see
(Red garb, bead jewellery),
She was a Masai.
From anthropology,
I’d heard how stubbornly
They try to defy
Factors tending to be
Against them culturally -
I like the Masai.
Now, from my T.V.,
News has reminded me
That space tourists buy,
In order to see
Big-game roaming free,
Belonged to Masai.
They live nomadically:
With stock, they go-look-see
To get enough supply
Of grass - whose energy,
Converted, comes to be
The life-keep of Masai.
53 WHY THE YEW?
To paraphrase one of my uncles,
Showing a church in Hertfordshire:
When you see an old English parish,
There'll be yews in its yard, for sure.
“Why the yew?” I obviously asked.
They were planted, he said, to stop
A resting-shepherd’s sheep chewing-up
The parish-graveyard’s gardened top:
Odour tells them - choose another crop.
(But another thought, I've since heard,
Is that churches were built near yews -
Sacred-sites the pagans preferred.)
54 HOBSON’S CHOICE
During a day trip to Cambridge,
My uncle showed the confined space
That left punters no choice to face -
Using Hobson’s trade of carriage.
55 TIN-MINERS’ LUNCH
Visiting relatives in Cornwall,
I saw the mines that miners mined,
The type of lunch they liked to eat,
And heard these tales about it all:
Tin-miners’ wives, with pasties ready,
(Note: spoken chorus.)
Would cry “oggie,
oggie, oggie”;
Then, in response, hungry miners
Would call back up with “oi, oi, oi”s.
Plus the real Cornish pasty’s strong crust
Keeps the cooked food inside it warm,
And, when it is properly done,
A fall down the mine won’t make it bust.
And miners’ wives...
And, for health or as bad-luck-blockers,
The, leftover, thick crimped crust-base -
Having had mining mitts on it -
Would, by some, be ditched to the “Knockers.”
And miners’
wives...
56 CENTRES
The pleasant river-plain of Didsbury -
Left seeing gain for my sister and me;
Left upon ending my B.A. degree;
A grassy southern suburb of Sydney -
Left, upon divorce, politically;
Within the West London vicinity -
Left to be nearer to Didsbury.
Now housed in Eccles I’ve a chance to see
If it shall be the final place for me.
57 MANCHESTER - A GIST
Sports, large warehouses and merchants are the gist -
A centre for distribution and trade,
Plus making goods and services for this list;
Well placed, in these, it seems, the future’s laid.
Oh - I should note the entertainment trade,
And that, from fruit and grain, fine foods are made.
58 THE OLD BULL
Walked along Fog Lane,
Looked at the park,
Stopped in the Old Bull
And had a hark,
While eating lunch,
On how at dark,
Many years before,
My father’s lark,
There, was games of darts -
I’d filled an arc.
59 RENATIONALISE
A private bus, in Manchester,
Going along a busy road;
Another, from a rival firm,
At a stop after a street node...
As I moved to alight the former,
The latter seemed doing nothing wrong;
But, jerking his bus past the other,
These rushed words came from my driver’s tongue:
“What’s he doing? Oh, now he’s moving!
I’ll have to stop further down this way.”
I’ve told of this to second a call,
For two trains have crashed, I’m sad to say.
Things are easier regulated,
And cooperation’s greater,
When large means are nationalised -
Managed to meet ends, and safer.
60 GREEN-LIGHT
Things go relatively fast in England,
For pedestrians, a young fleet-of-foot’s
Street-crossing time seems the selection.
But if - re the aged - leaders increase times,
It surely won’t cost them election.
61 WORSLEY VILLAGE
Where earliest of coal-canals meet,
By the seepage of old-deep-mine earth;
Where mock-Tudor is a treat,
And classic boats are newly coated
At dry-docks, before rebirth;
Where miners made tough risky efforts,
Working seams for hours non-stop -
Cramped, often without the room to stand;
Where security experts
Now fill the Nailmakers Workshop,
On a canal-made island;
Where offices come from granaries,
And granaries from a forge -
Wheel-powered through a brook’s tillage;
Where coal moved down arteries,
And sandstone was quarried to a gorge:
Lies antique Worsley Village.
62 BIT OF EACH
By coach then bus, from Manchester,
A fine place I did reach -
The Birmingham Botanical
Gardens and Glasshouses install
A little bit of each:
The nation’s bonsai collection;
A cottage and garden;
There’s neatly-cut lawn-tennis courts;
Aquatics, ferns, other plant sorts;
And art for a bargain.
63 ON YORK AND CHESTER
Each with a strong city-wall,
York and Chester I would call -
Neatly conservational.
64 LIVERPOOL
Caught a train, along a long-used line,
From Manchester to Liverpool.
On that day the weather was fine:
Sunny - just a little bit cool.
There, I purchased a Walkabout Guide,
Marked some sights, and headed outside.
As usual when first at such a place,
I walked to the main art-gallery,
The central mall, and the garden space;
Then headed down to the wide Mersey.
There, from ferry, I viewed the skyline -
A good sturdy cityscape, for mine.
65 NORTH WALES
“Hills meeting sea”
Proclaims to me
“Good scenery.”
And it’s views of North Wales,
Both sides of the train-rails,
Whereupon this thought hails.
66 TO SCOTLAND, AGAIN
By coach from central Manchester -
In-between stops at Bolton,
Carlisle and Hamilton -
To Glasgow, these are sights I saw...
Some sheep (blotched vividly with blue),
Filing down a well-worn path,
Did form a long woolly lath,
Aimed at a lusher greener hue.
A farmer on a four-wheeler:
His canine friend close beside.
A horse not on call to ride:
On leave - a no-shoe non-heeler!
Convex pastures with heath-moorland;
And flatter grain-plains below:
Cropped, awaiting till-and-sow -
Perhaps with grazing beforehand.
Passed Edwin Waugh territory,
Cumbria’s sharp forms and tones
Compelled sense, off seat-cramped bones,
To their well-honed long-read story.
Further north, farms of slighter falls:
One a black-sheep specialist,
With some Friesians on the list -
All held between old dry-stone-walls.
The Lakes behind, a strong Scotch mist
Changed the Sun to a full-moon
And hid scenery, till soon -
Light, and the wide scenes on Burns’ list.
New farms harnessing the wind’s blow,
Old white-and-grey-cottage views;
Plus pines, espousing the hues -
In distinct leaf-tones - of Glasgow.
67 AT A POND
By habit,
At a pond
I'd look down
Into it,
With the wish
Of finding
Signs of life -
Like goldfish.
At Glasgow’s
Botanic
Gardens neat,
There echoes
Such a wish,
In the form
Of a fern
In a dish -
With nice fish.
(These days, though,
Native-ponds
Are my wish.)
One in our mild summer,
Two for autumn and spring,
About quilts we’re talking.
With some high notes
(From wiser votes),
Much of, sadly,
England’s T.V. -
Notably soaps -
Almost promotes
Deviancy,
It seems to me.
70 THE OLD DART
The
Street posters
(Youth are viewers):
Girls drugged or posed so
(How low business can go).
Gays - yes; but a surrogate-
A Prime Minister now forced to preach -
Long returned, I think it’s gone too far
And youth are beginning to scar.
Less individualism;
Regulationism;
And some old values
We all could use.
From my heart,
‘Dart.
71 ME AT 33
Gandhi-glasses with twelve-years of wear,
Clubfoot, slight scoliosis, thin hair;
I have a goatee, am built quite lean,
And in golfing-clothes I’m mostly seen.
Single/once divorced, with no children -
Except one sponsored with World Vision.
Back in Manchester, my place of birth -
On that World Cup day, for what it’s worth.
Sound at exams, moulding, travel, sport -
At home when wishes are fairly sought.
And I am a didactic being -
From seeing much needless suffering.
(P.S: I hope a stronger U.N.
Replaces the need for such "Vision.")
72 MILLENNIUM DREAMS
We can control our day’s thought,
But not our sleepy night’s dream.
My dreams these nights are of this sort:
Red earth; tanned grass; gums by a stream.
I’ll do my bit from Manchester,
But, if again in Australia,
I’m sure like this I’d fondly dream:
Snow on swans; willows by a stream.
73 MILLENNIUM THOUGHTS
Watching live scenes from auld lands, on the B.B.C.,
Was my longest time stationed in front of T.V.
part two (cont.)
(conclusions)
74 ANTHROPOLOGICAL SOCIALISM
Anthropology -
Wonts, in close study -
Provides students with
A good insight on
Many ways to live.
And students well-read
Are oftentimes led,
Economically,
To Left of Centre -
That happened to me.
With “immigration,”
However, I’m on
The side of all those
Who, questioning “aims,”
Make misled-Left foes.
75 IMMIGRATION’S LEFT AND RIGHT
Letting people
For factors like
Terror through hate.
Rewarding those
Interested in
Gains which oppose
Heritage and
The state’s own shows.
76 LAND RIGHTS
If there is a good thing,
From the Second World War,
It’s that most peoples learnt
To conquer lands no more.
In Africa, Asia,
And the Pacific, too:
Post-war independence -
Steps only bigots rue.
But, for some indigenes
Outnumbered much-too-much,
It has all come too late
For liberty, as such.
So ‘tis in Australia,
And America’s sites,
Where the best now, I think,
Is to respect land rights.
77 OVERCOME
Variety’s a spice of life -
Crucial to which is culture;
Yet, as the world moves further “right,”
Cultural destruction’s rife.
We’re taught the virtues of “progress,”
As if other ways are sin;
But, as we push ever “forward,”
The world’s becoming a mess.
Competition brings corner cuts,
So rivers are polluted;
And land’s taken, from indigenes,
For “progress” - no ifs or buts.
Sure humanity’s grown up some,
With conservation movements;
But - here, there, and everywhere -
Capitalists still overcome.
78 “PROGRESS”
The last two centuries have seen
The most “progress” there has been:
Transport, communication, and
More-productive use of land.
Thus, according to experts’ gauge,
A positive of this age
Is, despite global congestion,
There’s now enough production
Of food for all alive to live -
The problem’s the will to give.
So, surely, our modern press
Should add to words on “progress”:
Having all of humanity
Free from food-deficiency.
79 PIE IN THE SKY?
From our early childhood,
We’re taught to glorify
Conquering the Earth’s neighbourhood -
Shouldn’t we question why?
Satellites can aid sibling-hood,
But some missions could buy
Is Mars “pie in the sky”?
The setting-sun swept,
On an open-canvas sky,
A plane’s dual wisp red.
81 A PRAYER FOR CHANGE
There must be a god -
A god I’ve met not;
But, if I met god,
I’d say, “Change the plot.”
Too much poverty/
Inequality;
Too much selfishness/
Competitiveness.
There must be a god -
A god I’ve seen not;
But prophets of God
Bore a Leftist plot.
This comes to the fore
In parts of Acts Four,
With sharing of wealth/
Care beyond thyself.
There must be a god -
A god I’ve met not;
But some who’ve “found” God
Have twisted the plot.
To the Left they pray -
That’s God, prophets say;
But then they vote Right -
Improves their own plight?
There must be a god -
A god I’ve seen not;
But I pray for god
To help change the plot.
82 ON ACTS 4:32-35
Believers were all one in heart and mind -
They shared their excesses, giving in kind;
No-one claimed any possessions one’s own -
Yes, it was socialism on the throne.
So not long were there desperate folk -
Fair distribution was the tongue they spoke;
And wealthy owners would sell part their deed -
Funds, via apostles, to those in need.
Yet today, all round our troubled earth,
Some Christians, safe at their own snug hearth,
Vote for their electorate’s Right-Wing party -
That’s hypocritical, it seems to me.
83 ACTS
How policy gets into place
Is an issue that all states face:
It happens democratically
(All of-opinion - voting free/
Part of-opinion - compulsory);
It happens autocratically
(Sometimes involving prophecy).
What’s most important, in my case,
Is that humane acts win the race.
84 NATIONALISM WITHOUT CONQUEST
Everything in moderation..?
Well, with “nationalism” it’s true:
It can carry unique cultures on
But, overdosed, cause their conquest, too.
85 LANDMINES
I’m thinking of Sting’s song “Russians,”
Which notes the ways wars can be fought;
He highlights nuclear weapons,
And there’s another crazy sort:
Landmines kill and maim innocents,
Long after their targets have fled;
To them should go layers’ repents,
And mine production should be dead.
86 ROBOTS
In factories,
I’ve spent sometime
Working machines
Whose goods should rhyme -
Moulding machines,
Whose plastic shots
Are sorted by
Auto-robots...
Well, now robots -
Before ‘twas folks:
Process workers.
Employment hoax?
87 FOR THE POOR
For
The poor,
A chance to live -
To rest, work and play -
Day-to-day in a way
That has not the need to bid,
To those atop the pyramid,
For the essentials of human life.
Then, when world suffering is far less rife
And all folk live above the poverty line,
This here poet, I promise, will cease to whine.
88 FROM 20TH-CENTURY SEXUALITY
From One Lover to Free Lover to Fee Lover,
For children’s sakes, let’s fashion back to One Lover:
In public-life there are - guess what - women and men;
Thus, upbringing’s best by a woman and a man -
Not by one or two men, or one or two women,
And not in a tug-of-war of women and men.
89 PEOPLE OR MONEY?
While I was at technical college,
My teacher once asked the class:
“What is the most important thing in life?”
Us students just let it pass.
“Money!” said the teacher, ending the pause.
But, in hindsight, I do find
That putting people ahead of money
Is vital for humankind.
90 THE ORDER OF THE DAY
When I read “Faces in the Street,”
A poem by Henry Lawson,
Born a century afore me,
I sigh: “The same woes still go on.”
Yes (though technology has changed
The patterns of human life-ways),
In both the town and the country,
Crude inequality just stays.
Yet, sometimes, on our broadcasts,
We hear the charitable say
That there’s enough resource for all -
With “share” the order of the day.
91 TAX
The flouting statement is rife -
How death and taxes are
The two certainties of life.
And both, to be sure, do hold
Lores of being a shame -
Thus, backing one may seem bold.
But taxes it seems to me -
When used in proper ways -
Are good for humanity.
It’s natural to compete,
But cultural to share -
And tax keeps folks off the street.
For, to open the unfair trap
(No job, no means, no job),
Welfare the poor must tap.
92 PLASTICS
Plastics, we so often hear
In environmental fear,
Are non-biodegradable
And, wrongly disposed, horrible.
But this (plus reuse) is the key,
And there’s the costing side to see -
To some become available
Goods otherwise unpayable.
And further pros occur to me -
E.g., replacing ivory.
93 ONE-POT COOKING
While living as a bachelor,
Cast-iron with a wooden handle,
It can hold quite a lot:
Slices of potato and carrot
Are boiled a while,
Before a thinly-chopped onion
Is mixed with the pile;
Then (with powdered-veggie-soup for stock)
Add canned lentils and beans.
Served with some toast and tomato sauce,
To an end, it’s a means.
94 MOROCCAN TEA
Here’s a hint
Concerning mint;
It’s very brief:
Just pick a leaf
From the backyard,
And wash if marred;
Leaf, bag, in mug,
Boil the jug,
Pour in and stir,
Oust the former.
It’s easy, see -
Moroccan tea...
Well, ‘tis roughly.
95 A GOOD LIFE
To fauna,
Home-flora.
Sheep for wool -
Fed till full.
Chooks for eggs -
Free-range legs.
Milk from cows -
Should well house:
Better grade
Can be made.
Fish for game -
Cut the pain.
Dogs for pets -
No regrets.
And question
Castration.
This does say
Buddha’s way,
And Blake’s way:
A good life -
For all life.
96 PARADIGMS
“Thirty-all” is, in effect, “deuce”;
Nobody has seen an “atom”:
An atom remains a model;
“Thirty-all” an umpire’s call.
“They we just simply had to bomb”;
And there are other given “truths”...
If we humans evolved from apes,
97 COLLECTING THE CARDS
Some folks are plant diehards,
Others keep foreign coins;
Twitchers collect sightings,
And golfers their scorecards.
My hobby’s the latter,
And, in many places,
I’ve managed just one round -
Scores? Another matter!
98 REREGULATE
One Premier world-eleven v.
Another such company,
Or wage-caps and, say, half each-club’s squad
From the local-junior pod?
And, perhaps, heed the cricket-fan's call
To convert to county-football..?
99 ONE RUGBY?
With sixth-tackle, knock-on and touch-line hand-over -
No scrums, line-outs, rucks or mauls;
The rest (the best of both codes) would hardly alter -
And no splits, due to two calls.
100 MONOPOLY
It seems to me,
Ideally and practically,
In an equitable society,
A well-audited police-force and army
Should have a monopoly
On weaponry.
101 JUST SUBSIST
(TUNE:
D F# G F# G A G G
D A A G F# G G G
D B B A G A G G
D A A G F# G G G
D A A G F# G G G -
i.e., each last-line repeated)
At times when I’ve had time to take,
I’ve thought of a plot by a lake.
The place would be of fertile ground,
With native flora all around.
The plot’s dwelling would be basic -
Well insulated, made of brick.
Plus, on this abode, there’d be built -
Solar panels, kept at best tilt.
And, also tapping nature's hand,
Sails turning atop a stand.
Orchard and vines, for fruit and shade;
Plus, in thin beds, vegetables laid.
Up at dawn, to use all sunlight -
Farm by day, play and sing at night.
A spouse with me I’d not resist -
In retirement, we’d just subsist.
102 CONGESTION
The waxing view;
And the taboo:
Increasingly now, for congestion,
Leaders make this sort of suggestion -
Nationalisation,
Remuneration,
Standardisation,
Cooperation,
Integration;
Fine...but (through dread of accusation -
“They don’t care about our children” -
And of losing the next election)
Most politicians never mention -
Promote a lower population.
I do care for the lives of children,
And think birth-control mends congestion -
Curb the birth queue
And influx, too.
103 EQUAL AWARD-PAY
“Equal average-pay,”
I heard her say.
But males, on average, are just as smart
And physically stronger -
One can see it at sport;
I’m sure she’s wrong there.
In clarification,
I should add on
That any applying woman best prepared
For the tasks of work that lay
Should win work, and receive
Equal award-pay.
104 ALONG WITH THE INGENUITY
Let us not forget -
If we should visit
The world’s grand buildings,
Such as those for kings -
The underlying
Human suffering,
And inequity,
Of facades we see.
105 GLOBAL REGULATIONISM
No income-scale would be unjust -
It’s a matter of degree;
And, to have less inequality,
Regulations are a must.
For, in Millennium’s status quo,
The pay-gaps for human work,
And what’s obtained simply as a perk,
Are wrong - inhumanely so.
106 TESTING 4,3,2,1
Well enough to let a singer
Know the way I found to sing
My lyric-only songs.
That is, just in case a singer
Was in want of a way to sing
These lyric-only songs.
But I’m sorry there’s no notes with the songs,
And hope they’re okay said, if not sung -
As love songs.
(P.S: writing, via mimicking, my tunes came late,
But they were all in shorthand by 2008.)
107 ON HONEYMOON!
(TUNE:
F# E A A A A G
G A B B A A
F# G A
B B B
B C#’ B-A A A
A C#’ C#’ C#’ C#’ B A B A
A B B B
A B A
A A C#’ C#’ C#’ C#’ B A B A
A B B B A B A)
‘Twas a Saturday morning,
And our weekend was free,
When this great idea
Just came through to me:
“If he’ll be my macho tomorrow,
I’ll be his muse for today.
Yeah, if he’ll be my macho tomorrow,
I’ll be his muse for today.”
I turned over to him -
He was drowsy and meek -
And, with some trepidation,
I decided to speak:
“Will you be my macho tomorrow,
If I’ll be your muse for today?
Yeah, will you be my macho tomorrow,
If I’ll be your muse for today?”
I moved closer to him -
He was starting to peak -
And, with some hesitation,
He decided to speak:
“Yes, I’ll be your macho tomorrow,
If you’ll be my muse for today.
Yeah, I’ll be your macho tomorrow,
If you’ll be my muse for today.”
So I rubbed him, with oils,
From his top to his toe,
Before topping his bath,
Which sure did make him go.
I relaxed him with tea
While I dried his torso,
Then aroused him again
With a lingerie show.
It was nearly midnight
When I said to him sweet:
“Can I give you one more?”
He said, “No, I’m deadbeat.”
Then he turned over to me -
I was drowsy and meek -
And, with a smile on his face,
He continued to speak:
“But I’ll be your macho tomorrow,
‘Cause you’ve been my muse for today.
Yeah, I’ll be your macho tomorrow,
‘Cause you’ve been my muse for today.”
108 YOUR SALT UPON MY LIPS
(TUNE:
F# G A A B B C#’ C#’ A
A C#’
C#’ C#’ B A B A
A C#’ C#’ C#’ B A B C#’ A
A C#’ C#’ C#’ B A A B C#’ A
A B B C#’ C#’ B A B A
B B C#’
C#’ B A B A
B C#’ C#’ C#’ C#’ B A B C#’ A
A C#’ C#’ C#’ B A B A
B B C#’ C#’ C#’ B A B A)
I saw the tears escape your eyelids,
I felt the stinging on your cheeks,
I knew the blur within your vision,
I heard you cry and I smelt the water...
And I want your salt upon my lips -
Ah-huh, your salt upon my lips.
Yeah, I want to be with you in private,
And kiss your salt onto my lips -
Ah-huh, taste your salt upon my lips.
I saw you come out of the ocean,
I felt the sun shine on your skin,
I knew the tingle through your torso,
I heard the surf and I smelt the water...
And...
I saw the sweat break from your body,
I felt the heat build in your cheeks,
I knew the beating of your big heart,
I heard you sigh and I smelt the water...
And...
109 WE GO TOGETHER
(TUNE:
C E G E C E G E
E G E E E
C E G E
C E G E
E G E E E
C E G E C E G E
E G E E E
G A B B
A G A G
B A G A G
C A B B C A B B
C A B B C A B B
B A G A
G
B B A G A G)
Does a mortar need a pestle?
A curry a grind?
Does a monsieur need a madame?
An ooh need two la’s?
Does a work-bee need some pollen?
And flowers a bee?
Yes, Honey, we go together.
We go together...
Like scones and tea just after three,
Or cheese and wine at dinnertime,
We go together.
Yeah, we go together.
Does a mortise need a tenon?
A cue need a glaze?
Does an hombre need a mujer?
A tango take two?
Does a taproot need some wet earth?
Yes...
Does a fortune mean a soul-mate?
And love extreme care?
Does a body need a shelter?
A finger a ring?
Does a sloth-bear need a hide-out?
And bees a beehive?
Yes...
part three
(travels)
110 MORE PICTURES
Photographs and, more so, painted-
Pictures of people and places,
For ends, involve in some cases
Adjustment of what was gathered.
With restrained poetic licence
(To make rhyme and metre with sense),
All matters related here -
Including songs that appear -
Did happen to me, no fear.
111 THE MERSEY AT DIDSBURY - SPRING 2000
(TUNE:
Eb F G Ab G
D F G Ab G
D F G Ab G
D G Ab Bb Ab
D G Ab Bb Ab
D F G Ab G)
Took bus one-four-three,
From Piccadilly,
Along Oxford Road;
Passed the old uni’s,
Those shops with saris,
And my first abode.
At Didsbury Village,
The Old Parsonage
Looked neat, and gave sound,
As I walked the way,
At about midday,
To a Mersey mound.
From atop this bank,
No longer a blank
Was the strong river,
Nor the wide fairways -
Where I’d filled two days,
Twelve years earlier.
I then headed back,
On Stenner Woods’ track
(Hearing more birdsong,
And seeing mossed stumps
Plus well-layered clumps),
To a human throng.
This throng was viewing -
Justly pursuing -
The smart Rock Gardens,
Sloped on Fletcher Moss,
Which I, too, did cross,
Before homeward wends.
112 FROM AN ECCLES FLAT - SPRING 2000
Contained allotters paying their dues -
All kinds of veg. brought to fruition,
And youngsters receiving tuition;
Starlings and sparrows I’d often see -
On a roof or a nearby tree;
And, in a distant poplar, perched high,
The large twiggy nest of a magpie;
In spring, daisies would yellow the floor -
Matched by Forsythias, grown next door;
Behind terraces, a moony crest -
The Dome of the new Trafford complex;
And the moon itself, in the right spot,
Would light the night’s clouds up quite a lot.
The kitchen window’s northerly views
Included an agent selling news;
A butcher struggling with position -
Much sunlight aimed at his nutrition;
And a popular English chippie -
Mashed peas and red sauce on top, for me;
White gulls dotting a sombre grey sky,
Plus light- and large-aircraft flying by;
Walkers and traffic would make a roar -
At peak-travel hours all the more;
Handsomely-set skies, toward the west,
As the day’s sun took its nightly rest;
And a bucket-pond and ivy plot,
That, on a shoestring, I loved a lot.
113 FOLLOWING THE SUN - SPRING 2000
Having moved, by buses, up the hill from Salford to Bury
(To be within walk of new work, again),
These stimuli surround, between my abode and the factory,
As I follow the sun - its wax, its wane:
Walking toward work and the rising sun, a morning chorus
Rides the crisp breezy air of hill-farmland,
While gravel, of road and path, beneath my plonked feet crunches,
And P.V.C. flaps on a silage-stand.
Bumble bees, tree sparrows and robins skirt along the hedgerows,
Squirrels and hares hop ahead on my route;
And on a weather-wrapped reservoir - glassy, or dulled by blows -
Glide mute- and whooper-swans, ducks, geese and coot;
Horses, goats, sheep and cattle laze and graze on fields of green -
Fields they, in turn, feed, helping make hay;
And, above, swifts and herons sometimes grace the aerial scene -
A scene framed by a moorland chain of grey.
Slugs - some rusty, others pitch-black - slither on a clayey path,
That slopes sharply beside the reservoir;
And a whitegood on green-grass - a horse trough, once a human bath -
Amuses me as I view from afar;
As does Peel Monument, atop a distant Holecombe mount -
By which an uncle and I once took lunch;
Disturbed nettles - brushed in such distraction - make their bulwarks count,
And a shed-side arbour demands a hunch.
One time, three sheep-dogs determined me lost, and rounded me up;
Oftentimes, Metrolink trams rattle by;
And, sometimes, a horse will urge me make handy a grassy cup,
Or nudge for a scratch down its back and thigh;
On cooler mornings, the dew on grasses soaks my joggers through,
But beautifies clumps of whimsy grass-heads;
And, already proceeding on his routine of chores to do,
A farmer strong-hoses out the cowsheds.
Caravan-people leave their grouping to walk the well-worn track,
And milk- and mail-vans squeeze tightly by;
Antique farm-machines rust away in a grassed ramshackle-stack,
And pigeons startle from their grassy lie;
In sun, fishing-people and bathers dot the reservoir’s shore,
And, in shade, ferns the sides of path and stream;
Near gates, manure fills the air and makes stepping a chore,
But elsewhere the views are a poet’s dream.
Magpies, near horses, bob around - perhaps for aroused worms;
Laburnums sprung yellow, and hawthorns white,
Pleasingly, in nature, border the fields of farming-firms,
And help enclose this Radcliffe rural site;
Plus, as I meander home from a day’s factory toil,
The sun, when it sets in a clear sky,
Forms a large amber ball, behind a converted cotton-mill -
Signalling another day almost by.
114 CLITHEROE CASTLE’S VIEWS - SUMMER 2000
From outside metres-thick wall
(Down on leafy-grounds grown tall,
To lush-green sheep-grazing folds,
And up further to the moor),
Clitheroe Castle’s views soar.
115 SUNDAY CRICKET AND BERRIES - SUMMER 2000
From a bus (ninety-eight -
I got off at the gate
Of Hamilton Road Park,
Where in situ I ate
Several blackberries
(The taste too good to wait),
Before making my way
To a further park-gate,
From where briefly I watched
How Stand’s cricketers rate.
116 MOSES GATE - SUMMER 2000
Bordering Bolton
Lies land with lodges -
Grassed and paved around,
With decking built on.
As well as these lakes
Of human-made kind,
Croal, Irwell, canal
Meet there like three snakes.
There’s ‘paths for horses,
A birdwatching hut,
An info. centre,
Plus walkers’ courses.
And, surrounding these,
The woods have grown thick,
So, viewed from afar,
Form a sight to please.
117 WYTHENSHAWE PARK - SUMMER 2000
Wythenshawe Hall
Is elegant -
Although, in all,
Extravagant.
Cromwell above
A pyramid -
Symbolic stuff
On what he did.
The plant centre
Has well-kept ground -
Seems gardener
Likes fish around.
Sports and leisure
Places abound -
A good measure
Of games are found.
A farm venture
Has food at hand,
And more nature
Lies in woodland.
118 WHALLEY ABBEY...WHAT TALES? - AUTUMN 2000
Cistercian monks have clearly been -
Their Abbey’s ruins can still be seen;
And, sounding for centuries before,
Calder flows have passed - seeking the shore.
Lords of the grounds have, more lately, stayed -
Their manor houses reused and unscathed.
Through beautiful gardens insects fly -
The ruins of folk just a pass-by;
And, by viaduct, trains pass above -
Folk thereby viewing a town I love.
Tourists, C. of E. delegates,
Anglers and hikers have crossed the gates...
Opportunistic masons, kings-men,
Model makers, Turner, and men who pen...
Perhaps the witches came down from the hill,
And do ghosts haunt - still questing their fill..?
119 WARRINGTON MUSEUM AND LIBRARY - AUTUMN 2000
Local-, foreign- and natural-history,
And a clock-and-painting gallery,
Are most neatly housed - in a most neat city -
Near where Cromwell crossed the Mersey.
120 A GOOD SEASIDE DAY - AUTUMN 2000
Via the art gallery,
Blackpool how it used to be;
Via a famous tower,
The Blackpool of the hour.
Via a maritime Mount,
Fleetwood with its channel out.
And, via a coastline tram,
The autumn-night lit-art jam.
121 IRONY IN LANCASTER - AUTUMN 2000
All cut-and-laid stone,
To the clean canal.
122 PROUD PRESTON - AUTUMN 2000
Heavy autumnal rain
Had surged the Ribble’s flow
When I walked to and fro
The foot-, motor- and train-
Bridges, that have allowed
Many - some in combat -
To cross this river at
A town justly self-proud.
123 FONDLY AND VIVIDLY/AN OLYMPICS-SPARKED MEMOIR SONG - AUT. 2000
(TUNE:
C# A B C#’ D’ D’ C#’ C#' C#'
G# A B G# A
F# F# G# G# A A G# G#
G# F# F# G# A A
C# A A A A B B A
A A G# G# G# G# A A
C# A A A B B A
A A A A B G# A
C# A A A B B A
A G# A B G# A
C# A A A B B A
A A B B G# A
C# A A A B B A
A G# A B G# A)
From way up high in Sydney Tower,
You can see it all:
East there’s coastline, west there’s ranges -
Blue Mountains standing tall;
There’s national parks and gardens,
Sailboards on Botany Bay;
And, out among the people,
You’ll soon get that term “G’day.”
Fondly and vividly:
The eucalypts and wattles;
The sun, the sand, the sea.
Yeah, I still picture Sydney -
Fondly and vividly.
And, way up high in Sydney Tower,
You can see it all:
Southern Beaches, Northern Beaches,
A skyline standing tall;
There’s the Opera House and Harbour Bridge -
Ferries sail from bay to bay;
And, around Darling Harbour,
You can shine the night away.
Yes...
And, way up high in Sydney Tower,
You can see it all:
Olympic grounds towards the west,
The Rocks, too, is worth a call;
Plus Aboriginal culture -
The foremost of a lot to say.
So, if you visit Sydney,
I’m sure you’ll enjoy your stay.
Yes...
124 FROM MORECAMBE - AUTUMN 2000
A long-and-wide red promenade,
Art mirroring local fauna,
Pebbles preventing sand-shore fade,
Boats that may be modern-prawner,
Huge mudflats where birds and folks wade,
The far-shore tide-guides help shortcut,
Then, higher-and-higher-back laid,
Fells that peak where the Lakelands jut.
125 BLACKBURN CATHEDRAL - AUTUMN 2000
Just out of the station,
And past a new statue
On human relation
(Mum, kid, and teddy, too),
Lies Blackburn Cathedral,
Which, from my passage through,
Seems very musical
In its newly-formed view.
126 WATERSCAPES OF OLDHAM - AUTUMN 2000
On a wet windy autumn-day,
Within Greater Manchester,
Inside Oldham Art Gallery,
A wooden-shelved greenhouse lay.
And on the shelves were neatly placed
Not pot plants but clear-glass
Clean-water-filled bottles and jars -
Photographic-transfer faced.
So - as aquatic sounds streamed through,
From speakers upon the wall -
Unique 3D. effects were seen:
“Waterscapes,” all strangely true.
127 TO SPACIOUS SOUTHPORT - AUTUMN 2000
Most of the leaves
Had fallen free
When to the sea,
By bus then train,
In stop/start rain,
I headed-down
From Radcliffe Town.
After Wigan,
The train began
To pass across
What to me was
A coastal plain
To see again -
With varied crops,
And grazing ops.
From the station,
Reconstruction
Soon came to eye
As I walked, by
The gallery,
Toward the sea,
And thereby thought:
“Spacious Southport.”
128 SKY VIEWS - AUTUMN 2000
From a council-flat in Bury,
Through a wide window, I see -
Landing on neighbouring tiles -
Some starlings, pied wagtails,
The hop of magpie and sparrow;
And hear geese bark as they go.
A fancier’s pigeons circle,
While a white flock of gull
Play the wind in a dark grey sky -
The contrast catching my eye;
As does the arc of a rainbow -
With sun and rain toe-to-toe.
Quiet thought turns to Constables,
As the wide-glass enables
Broad views of strong cumulus sky -
Changing shape as time goes by;
And - with moors, too, in the background -
It’s nice to briefly lounge round.
129 TO A DRIVER - AUTUMN 2000
As Lancashire fields
Became flood plains,
And still-worse storm yields
Caused Southern pains,
I walked up Bolton roads
(A new contract,
I’d again changed abodes),
Feeling quite whacked.
For, while mini-cabs
Passed-by quickly,
I received the sharp jabs
Of cold, gusty,
Snow-filled air in my face;
Till a driver,
At just outside his place,
Asked, “Going far?”
Driving through the snowstorm
To my new work
(Diverting from your norm,
Ending my murk),
You were a kind fellow;
So, from my flat
(The walk home was mellow),
More thanks for that.
130 ENTRÉE/AT BOLTON’S ALBERT HALL: OPERA SONG - WINTER 2000/1
(TUNE:
G A B C’ B
C’ D’ C’ B
B C’ B D’ D’
G E D C
C’ E’ F’ E’ E’
E’ E’ D’ C’
C’ E’ F’ G’ G’
G E D C)
From novel, and play,
To opera,
Was my entrée
To an art forma
I find is a
Fine way to relay
A storia.
131 DURING LATE FEBRUARY 2001
From an all-dark sky,
To ice the burdened ill earth,
Broke spiteful neat white.
132 GREED AT ITS WORST - SPRING 2001
At first, I thought it was an argument -
A noisy argument in my flat’s block -
But, as the violent sounds continued,
Opted to open my stairway door’s lock.
The upstairs neighbour was already there:
The man opposite me was being held -
Locked inside his flat and receiving thumps.
“Hey! Come to the door, now!” we knocked and yelled.
Soon, the male pensioner’s door opened,
And a mid-twenties male appeared -
Waving, between the upstairs-man and me,
Either a gun or something that neared.
The solid upstairs-man chose bravery,
And tried to apprehend the filthy thief.
When the latter wormed free of the former,
I, too, had a go and had him beneath.
Then, frankly, I was tricked to distraction:
A young woman followed and had her say -
Pleading to stop it and leave him alone.
He and she soon bolted down the stairway.
The upstairs man gave chase, but tripped and fell,
As I phoned 999 and told The Law.
The pensioner suffered a bloodied face -
I don’t know if he has less/they have more.
133 OXFORD BLUE - SPRING 2001
A contract ended/a new one begun,
And a move from Bolton back to Bury -
A top-floor council-flat, within Radcliffe,
Where streets are named from names in poetry,
And homes are framed by scenes I’m happy with.
My thirteenth home needed some touching-up,
And I chose, in the main, to D.I.Y.;
So a nailed off-cut-and-rug make-do
Covers the small floor where shelved books now lie -
My first study, painted in Oxford Blue.
134 RAWTENSTALL - SPRING 2001
A whistle’s “okay, go” scream,
And the sight and sound of steam
Against a stone tunnel-wall,
On the track to Rawtenstall.
High up from where I now dwell,
A much narrower Irwell
Flows past Rawtenstall’s station -
Making its own Bury run.
Turning to view a wide ridge,
I walked to Weavers’ Cottage,
Whose staff enlightened me on
How wool was spun and woven.
Climbing past strong stone-houses,
I found the slope for skiers,
And the place for which I’d come -
Rossendale Museum.
Set within Whittaker Park,
This museum holds fine art,
Old furniture and fashion,
Plus a species collection.
Again with stops for the sights,
I stepped down Rawtenstall’s heights
To where track and river wed -
The train ready with a head...
135 ON THE 2001 ELECTION
Morally Tory/
Economically
Old-Labour -
Cold waiver.
part three (cont.)
WALKABOUT LANCASHIRE
(conclusions)
136 LANCASHIRE SUNG SIMPLY
(TUNE:
D A Bb A
D A Bb A G F F
D A Bb A
D A Bb A G F F)
Lancashire:
Cut by rivers, met by sea;
Patched by farmland,
Mills and other industry.
Lancashire:
With your links-lands by the sea;
Rough left wild,
Greens and fairways clipped neatly.
Lancashire:
With your Pennine boundary;
Steeped in history,
Through your buildings, there to see.
Lancashire:
Where, through Graces, moorlands be;
Wooded parklands,
Flowered gardens - kept neatly.
Lancashire:
Red Rose County, God’s blessed thee.
137 SEEN
A change of pace -
Walks through a place;
Crime-streets more clean -<