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A little while ago I was writing a novel about ancient Australia (now, unfortunately, never to see the light of day) and have converted some of the descriptive dialogue into poetry. A few of those poems are published below, plus another one I wrote on the subject of freedom. I don't pretend that any of them are great or even good but if you want to have a read you are welcome. Scroll down, or click on the fast-links. ![]() * The Last Word || My Home Page * (scroll through the page or click on these links)
RIBBON GUMS
rimmed with moulting eucalypts the trunks festooned with curling bark hanging in ribbons like yesterday's clothes.
Bark denuded FLOOD
rain-pocked puddles grow stretching wet fingers to neighbouring puddles joining hands embracing growing flowing seeking the low ground puddles to pools pools to streams streams to rivers rivers to flood. THE CREEKThe Creek is another segment from my novel this one set in 20,000 BC when the last Ice Age was in full swing (if Ice Ages really do swing!). This describes a small creek born in the heights of the Dandenong Ranges just outside of Melbourne, Victoria, which wends its way along a valley and ends up soaking into a marsh in the centre of a large plain. Locals will probably not recognise the measely creek as the mighty (???) Yarra River the only up-side-down river in the world, too thick to drink, too thin to plow and the extensive plain which swallows this creek as the Port Phillip Bay basin, at that time a dry barren plain (sea levels were about 120 metres lower than present levels). In the story, the sun "flails insipidly" because of the Ice Age and the cold Artic-type temperatures.
the sun's anorexic rays flailing insipidly at the snow's cold strength giving the creek a meagre birth.
The broad valley TWILIGHTTwilight is ust a short descriptive piece from my abandoned novel on ancient Australia. I liked the use of the word 'aerobic' to describe a dancing campfire.
disappeared behind distant hills bathing the tanned landscape in its afterglow.
The twilight, WARWar was written, again, for my novel on ancient Australia. In this section two Aboriginal tribes are going into battle. The "good guys" have only experienced 'normal' tribal warfare a quick foray, a lot of bruising, a few cuts, etc, an occasional death, and honour is served. On the other hand, the "bad guys" have just introduced 'total' war they want the land the "goodies" occupy but they don't want the "goodies" left around afterwards. So the "goodies" must choose between maintaining their original tradition with its entrenched morality, and their survival. I hope you enjoy it.
is expediently ignored but neither morals nor traditions serve a dead man. FREEDOM
valueless until it's gone.
Freedom was written
after some musings on this subject. But don't be mislead by its brevity. Freedom is only an illusion because it is subjective a (trusted) slave might see a chance to walk in the street without restraint as the ultimate in freedom, while to many people the loss of their firearms might be seen as an enormous loss of freedom. To me, walking in the street is part of normal life and, not being a firearm owner, would see no loss in the banning of all guns. It's like a knot in piece of string. To the right of that knot is freedom (not in a right-wing political sense), to the left is confinement/restraint. To every man the knot is in a different position on the string. To each the perceived loss of freedom can be horrendous but that perception varies from country to country, person to person.
John 15:1 NIV
Click on it to find out.
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