Without Rhyme or Reason

[Jee Leong]

"Captain Australia" is very funny, and angry. Thank you for introducing to me the term pou sto from "Prayer and Manifesto" (love the juxtaposition in the title). "Confusion and Remembering Fire" gives a little peek into the inner debate behind Dunc's suaveness, but of course the peek is given with an elegant hand.

[Dunc]

Jee - always a pleasure when you drop in. I appreciate the kind words.

Regards / Dunc

[Dunc]

21 April 2015




LATE TRAIN

Almost without a breath
to ruffle midnight’s pall
on the stark station

glides the efficient train
past me unstopping

every car alight
for no one inside
as door and door slip past

but memories of the day
pale and unperson’d
packing each seat
are borne into the dark

turning the signals red
as windows of Underworld.



  

[Dunc]

22 April 2015




TO RICHARD DAWKINS

Do they annoy, creationists who bawl
that everything was made with magic words,
the ark was brontosaured above the plimsoll,
the state must silence school and science boards –
do they annoy? God yes, annoy us all.

And is the entire measure of belief
wrapped up indignant in these crazy quilts
wit-proofed? Or might we give
a space for wider dreams on longer stilts
where stepping over borders is motif?

No, Richard cries, no, no! – both are untrue
and wholly indistinguishable in error
so one thing only can we, must we, do –
shout down, condemn, destroy the lot forever
and cleanse the world with my more reasoned view.

Dick, your trouble is, you’re blind to humour;
you lack that sense that tells us when to grin;
that’s maybe why you always seize the hammer –
you have no funny outlets for your spleen;
and why your intuition’s not full number.

My modest proposal, that, to whet your craft.
And though, okay, you’re right about the creos,
the sharks can have ’em, pitch ’em from the raft,
the earth has girth enough for kindly theos –
as you may find should you find how to laugh.



  

[Dunc]

The real Brunswick is just an older suburb of Melbourne.

23 April 2015




IMAGINED FRAGMENTS 12
Prologue to The Brunswick Papers

When as a child you sat among
the midnight sailors at the inn
listening to many a foreign tongue
made thicker yet with penny gin;
or when before the glowing hearth
you watched your grandma mumbling low
with strangers both to house and bath
who shared a pipe before they’d go;
then you, invisible to them,
would hear what wasn’t for your ears –
appalling curses, hawks of phlegm,
pisshead maunderings, cheers and jeers,
but now and then a whispered tale
that hinted at a hidden land
where happy prosperous people hail
the priestly prince’s open hand;
lords of philosophy and art,
masters of magic hot and cold,
with wealth to sate the tightest heart
and even sewers run with gold.
Some said Lemuria, some Mu,
Atlantis (favoured by the well-born),
or Lyonnesse, or Titipu,
or Hi Brasil, or Lower Melbourne;
but this each traveller discerned
in terms that get upon a nun’s wick –
the hub on which this nation turned
was the elect faubourg of Brunswick!

     Now, I don’t say I’ve ever been
     to Brunswick, nor have my eyes seen
          this marvellous land;
     but strange to say, I have a dove
     who carries letters from above
          back to my hand;
     and these describe the jewelled streets,
     the perfumed parks with cedar seats,
     fine restaurants with exquisite eats
     and priceless spice and marvellous meats,
     the mansions with their myriad suites
     and smiling maids and silken sheets,
     the harbour with its fearsome fleets,
     the towering engineering feats,
     the polity which draws no bleats
     (with welfare purified of cheats),
     men of the brainiest elites
     and women whom the goddess greets,
     till it would take another Keats
     to paint you such a feast of treats!

Oh, they have truly found the way
to all the happiness of men
and though they hide themselves away
I know the path that leads them
so harken ...



  

[Sorella]

13 April 2015



Looking appalled on death
out of season
do not rest
till you devise a reason
since if you see none
there will not be one.



  

Dunc,

Off to work here, but realized I didn't comment on thiis, which struck me at the time: a comment on how we
humans strive to make sense and believe our own fabrications: really, there is no reason (but in your poem, rhyme at least! )

Back soon (hangs sign on door, goes fishing? Noooo, working, honest.)

Sorella

[larryrap]

Global

Two men reading each other's poems
in two rooms
in two distant lands.

*

Brunswick: You're ridiculously able. Shamefully educated yet perfectly happy to stand on a chair and recite fabulous reams of verse to schlubs like me. And way too likeable to hate for it.

In Dawkins you touch on serious philosophical points with your usual deceptively light touch. I groan to think of the morbid mess I'd have made of that.

I love Late Train's first three strophes before it gets abstract - it's a very powerful and arresting image.

[Sorella]

Got a seat on the bus! Grabbed rather. 60 does not get you courtesy or a rebate. I need more years now!

Soo the muse poem on remembered fire -- love it!! 😊
Blue Evening. Aah! So wistful.

You are nothing if not versatile, now lyrical. You raise the bar, you do.

[cookala]

cheers Dunc! I see you're still going strong! but it's almost time for our traditional dance!
Reunion - a chaotic take on aging - I know this scenario well...
True Romances - love this, and you get awesome sauce for emic and etic
Mid-Way Poem - sums up the state of affairs here!
Captain Australia - *sigh* last strophe calls to mind the USA, maybe it's a pandemic...
Prayer and Manifesto - mate, me thinks 98% of us are in trouble
Blue Evening - I like this for its fresh and unusual images, nicely done
Lament - this is lovely, and the melancholy tone is spot on
Confusion - huggermugger old bugger indeed! that made me lol, and then you sneak in that Duncanesque last liner twister. as if... thank you.
Late Train - that final strophe, for me, is not working as the conclusion comes from nowhere, but the rest is DuncWunderful!
To Richard Dawkins - one word, "Dick" sums up Ns message. this is quite good, and a wee bit scathing, but you finesse, as usual
Imagined Fragments - holy "eat" sounds Duncman! you amaze me - getting 14 lines to end with "eat" and make sense and move the poem forward! awesome sauce!

[Dunc]

Karin - yes, the only sense it makes is that it doesn't make sense.

Larry - glad you found some fun in Brunswick. And thanks for your crit of Train - I'll think about the last two strophes.

Thanks for calling, good people!

Regards / Dunc

[Dunc]

24 April 2015



THAT SATURDAY WITH ROS

So we drove in downpour out of town
where cars were rallying in the mud;
your brother didn’t end upside down
but you and I, we got cold and bored
and slipped away as the grey sun set,
ate burgers in a nameless café,
talked and talked but didn’t quite connect
and got back late by a detoured way.
Then as expected, parked in the street
we kissed long and I made to grapple
down your bra, got tautly into it
now all alive, rolling your nipples.
Though I hadn’t played with tits before,
my hands asked, but there was nothing more.


  

[Dunc]

25 April 2015




ANZAC DAY AT GALLIPOLI 2015

Hey! Wow! You little beaut! Centenary!
Monster Remembrance Rave lest we forget
our best and worst, the fightin Oz and Kiwi,
you we adore in death as shorthand for us all.

Look down (or up) you yoretime bastards here,
appreciate this friggin great shebang –
bands! celebs! speeches! two-up for a bet
and mobs deckin your tombs with cans of beer.

A bash to die for, right? The TV calls
to get the kiddies in, bus after bus,
as Oz as meat pies or the Kelly Gang
or the bugle on Anzac Cove at break of day.

You fought and died and caught VD for us
and we are grateful. And bloody thirsty. Yea!



  

[Sorella]

Dunc,
Muse had you remembering at last ☺That matter of fact reminiscence felt very true to life, the details so real, the resignation stoical. Confusion, fire -- youth ain't all it's cracked up to be.

Enjoyed this. Took me back to bra--fumblers I have known.

[Dunc]

Karin - ah yes, back when we were all learners, feeling out the rules as it were ...

Regards / Dunc

[Dunc]

26 April 2015



HAIKU À DEUX VOIX

Love, death, politics,
are those the only poems?
Well, there’s always food.