Monday, January 14, 2013

Repost - The Dark Ship


A repost.  I wrote this a few years ago,
not long after my father died.


The Dark Ship

What ho, my Captain! What lies ahead?
He stood a while, as savouring the brine
Before turning and locking eyes with mine.
He spoke and, with a hollowness, said
“I sail the dark seas in inner dread,
Dark is the world within my head”.
And the ship sailed on through the night-o,
The ship sailed on through the night.

What ho, my Captain! What hope is there?
Surely there’s hope the dark will lift
When your vessel is strong and travelling so swift?
Wont you progress past the seas of despair?
He reached and gently touched my hair
“We’re going at speed but I know not where.”
And the ship sailed on through the night-o,
The ship sailed on through the night.

What ho, my Captain! Can you be saved?
This took him aback and he thought a while
“I can” he said “but the voices beguile.
Our thoughts are to darkness enslaved,
No matter how much release is craved,
We are on a trip that cannot be waived.”
And the ship sailed on through the night-o,
The ship sailed on through the night.

What ho, my Captain! Can we turn back?
“There’s no going back, what’s past is done.
The only way’s forward once it’s begun.
And this is why things look so black
And things weigh heavy upon my back
But I look for some light, the barest crack.
And the ship sailed on through the night-o,
The ship sailed on through the night.

What ho, my Captain! When comes the dawn?
“For every dawn, must precede a night
Passage through these cold waters is a rite
That lives in you, it is never gone.
At best, the dark is just withdrawn
And we can but bravely struggle on.”
And the ship sailed on through the night-o,
The ship sailed on through the night.

---
© J Cosmo Newbery 2013
---

Sunday, January 13, 2013

CDXLII - Resist Maturity


dVerse Poets has the prompt "Growing Up".

It irks me somewhat nowadays that, if I make light of something,
it automatically gets ridiculed as a "Dad Joke"
- a less than subtle jibe intended to make me 
'grow up', 'act my age', 'be more mature'.
Well, fuck that for a joke.


Resist Maturity

We succumb to daily pressures
To meet the status quo;
The system loves to remind us
That it controls the show.

While adult life has pleasures
That children cannot know,
It also serves to bind us
And limit where we go.

Our children are unrestricted
In what they ask and do;
The world to them’s a playground
Where everything is new.

While we adults are constricted
Kid’s dreams can fly the coup;
Would the world stop spinning ‘round
If we went with them too?

---
© J Cosmo Newbery 2013
---

Saturday, January 12, 2013

CDXLI - The Lady of the Door

A different slant on Magpie Tales' prompt.
My first attempt, A Sweet Divinity, is here.

A lady who stood at a door
Wearing lace and nothing much more
Explained, when she was pressed,
That the sight of her breast
Attracted more men to her store.


---
© J Cosmo Newbery 2013
---


CDXL - High Tea for a Tortured Soul


Sunday Scribblings had the prompt 'Paradise'.


High Tea for a Tortured Soul

In paradise we’re told we’ll see
A pure, bright world, in symmetry;
Ruled by God and heavenly choir
With haloes, harps and white attire.
How bloody awful would that be?
Like some wretched afternoon tea
Endured for an eternity:
Existence would be dull and dire,
In paradise.

Where is the grass and shady tree?
Or the glass of chilled Chablis?
Or discussions held ‘round a fire?
Or the joys of carnal desire?
Seems there’s nothing to attract me
In paradise.

---
© J Cosmo Newbery 2013
---

Friday, January 11, 2013

CDXXXIX - The Fall


Three Word Wednesday requires participants
to use the three words of the week in a composition.
The words this week were 'focussed', 'pair' and 'vacant'.

And, guess what?  If you look closely
you will find a Herrick's Stanza!


The Fall

Quiet.
Focussed.
Vacant even.
Blankly hiding intent.
Cards held closely.
A prayer—
Requests divine consent.
But then—
The need to beat three tens—
A pair.
That’s it.
All gone.
Forlorn, he walks,
Numbly,
Leaving behind his all.
And more.

---
© J Cosmo Newbery 2013
---

Tuesday, January 08, 2013

CDXXXVIII - A Sweet Divinity


Magpie Tales, has the above picture by Daniel Murtagh as a prompt.
As is my want, I have framed it.

I am still playing with Herrick's Stanzas.

A Sweet Divinity

There is a sweet divinity seen in the naked form;
An image that nature endows that’s comforting and warm.

And yet —

What far too many forget
Is how stressing the outer sheath
Of open femininity
Ignores the heart beneath.

---
© J Cosmo Newbery 2013
---

Sunday, January 06, 2013

CDXXXVII - The Secret Garden



Three Word Wednesday requires participants
to use the three words of the week in a composition.
The words this week were 'pace', 'idle' and 'nagging'.

Carry On Tuesday asks us to use the line 
“There is a place where I can go” in a writing.  
The line originates from a Beatles track, "There is a Place".

And, for good measure, I continued playing with Herrick's Stanzas.


The Secret Garden

There is a place where I can go,
Beyond the bustling pace,
Beyond the forward estimates
I’m expected to embrace.

A place with needed breathing space,
Ornate as I should wish it be;
No nagging at the set tableau, 
No voices disagree.

A place where idle thoughts can grow
To meet the whim at hand;
Where cities rise, or love is true,
Or dragons walk the land.

Once more I walk up to the door,
Step through and turn the key.
There is a place where I can go,
Where I can just be me.

---
© J Cosmo Newbery 2013
---

Tuesday, January 01, 2013

CDXXXVI - Reality Check


It is my view of resolutions that you are far better off resolving to improve
what you currently do rather than change something major. 
That’s not to say some people don’t pull off major changes but most of us don’t.
But you will get more success and pleasure from improving an existing skill.
Like cooking.  Or poetry.  Or being a friend.


Reality Check

A ‘clean slate’s just a metaphor,
Not a really apt one.
While resolutions come each year
No-one’s ever trapped one.

And yet —
It seems we do forget.

Each year
We will, as I have found,
Do the same things as before;
With high hopes, each time round.

---
© J Cosmo Newbery 2013
---
.


Monday, December 31, 2012

CDXXXV - Clean Slate


Carry on Tuesday asks us to use the line 
“I have wiped the slate clean” in a writing.  
The line originates from 
a George Bernard Shaw poem.

I decided to chance my hand at another Herrick’s stanza,


Clean Slate

The year’s been great; I can’t complain,
The good has swamped the bad,
With many things I wont forget
And few I wish I had.

'Content'
Describes the year I’ve spent.

And yet —

Despite the manner blessed,
I have wiped the slate clean again
To start the year refreshed.

---
© J Cosmo Newbery 2012
---
.

Sunday, December 30, 2012

CDXXXIV - Transformation



Imaginary Garden with Real Toads challenges us to write a poem
using the quite intricate syllable and rhyme pattern
used by Robert Herrick in his poem “To Daffodils”.


Transformation

A many legged eating machine
Receives a gardener’s curse
As it reduces living things
To skeletons.  Or worse.
But hold!
As wond’rous things unfold:
What springs,
Refashioned and refreshed,
So far removed from what its been,
Forgives it for the rest.

---
© J Cosmo Newbery 2012
---
.
Originally I called this 'The Butterfly' but realised that
I have another poem of that name, so changed it.

Saturday, December 29, 2012

CDXXXIII - Sticks & Stones



Three Word Wednesday requires participants
to use the three words of the week in a composition.
The words this week were tedious, limber and detonate.

Sticks & Stones

“Sticks and stones may break my bones
But names will never hurt me.”
- Children’s chant.

Detonation.
Hard.
Sharp.
Intended to hurt.
It leaves a mark.
Pain.
Tears.
Anger and shock.
The sting lingers.
A once limber heart
Hardens.
Later, on recall,
The brain replays
The whole event.
The anger is real
But the sting —
The sting is
That while pain fades
Words don’t.
Even with tedious repetition
Pain fades away.
Words are reborn.
Refreshed 
And resharpened.
Again.
And again.
And again.


---
© J Cosmo Newbery 2012
---




Friday, December 28, 2012

CDXXXII - The Dilemma of a Horn



The Age Oddspot — Tuesday December 4, 2012

"North Korea has proved the existence of the unicorn. 
Archaeologists say they found a large rock
carved with the words ‘‘unicorn lair’’ near a temple in Pyongyang. 

The temple was once used by an ancient Korean King, Tongmyong, 
who, according to written texts, kept a stable of them 2300 years ago."

(I’m assuming that the ‘them’ refers to unicorns and not temples 
but you never can tell with The Age.)



The Dilemma of a Horn

The ancient king, Tongmyong,
Kept unicorns, but knew it wrong;
Those most wond’rous beasts
Were kebabs at his feasts:
A delicacy but, alas, not for long.

The unicorn stocks declined
As the King nonchalantly dined.
He caused quite a scandal
Using the horn as a handle,
Compounded by a poor choice of wine.

When last was just fricasseed,
The King was forced to concede
He’d mishandled the flock
And labelled a large rock
In memory of the end of its breed.

---
© J Cosmo Newbery 2012
---


CDXXXI - The Inspector



No special reason;  just that the picture amused me.

A lady was employed to inspect
Bare bottoms, for signs of defect.
She assessed the gluteus
For its level of cuteus
And any that weren’t, she’d reject.

---
© J Cosmo Newbery 2012
---

Thursday, December 27, 2012

CDXXX - Hansel & Gretel, The Remake.



And now, in the spirit of Christmas pantomimes, I give you —

Hansel & Gretel – The Remake
A Cautionary Tale

— CAST —

The Father, a woodcutter
The Step-Mother, standard issue, nasty, 36D.
Hansel, the son; clean-cut, shorts and braces type.
Gretel, the daughter; flaxen-haired, pig-tails, gingham dress-type.
Witch, standard issue, average wickedness rating.
Social Worker, keen, earnest, carrying a clipboard.
White Swan, token addition, to appease the Audubon Society.
A Wolf, an accidental inclusion, an innocent bystander.
Constable, on sabbatical from Midsomer.
The Forest Chorale – three finches, a duck, a badger and two rats.

◊◊◊

The Forest Chorale
Our story’s set on the edge of a wood
A woodcutter lives there, as a woodcutter should.
He has a woman, the love of his life
And two young kids from a previous wife.
He cannot see that wife number two
Is a mean and nasty, scheming shrew;
Blinded by her two well-rounded breasts
He meekly agrees to all requests —
So besotted is he by her feminine charms
He’d crawl over coals, with broken arms.

Step Mother:
We need to be prudent, our money’s dwindling,
And you earn such a pittance from chopping kindling.
The kids are the problem, the kids are a pain,
Food is scarce and the kids are a drain.
If you really loved me, as you swear,
You’d take the children out of my hair!
Times are tough, we are pretty poor,
And there’s a hungry wolf scratching at the door.

Wolf:
Not me, I promise, I’m elsewhere in the wood
With my eyes on a little girl who wears a red hood.

Woodcutter:
But they are my children, what can I do?
I love them dearly, just like you!

Step Mother
Well, if you’re too weak and too lightweight
Let Mother Nature decide their fate:
Take them to the woods and leave them there.
They can stay if they return.  Does that sound fair?

The Forest Chorale
In the next room, with his ear to the wall
Hansel was shocked and gave Gretel a call:

Hansel
I’ll go out and collect some small white stones;
Dropped as we go, they’ll guide us home.

The Forest Chorale
So Hansel slipped out through the door
And looked for stones on the forest floor.
He filled his pockets with small white rocks
A couple of spare were stuffed down his socks.
The next day the father suggested a walk:

Woodcutter:
Come!  The woods are a great place for a talk!

The Forest Chorale
Hansel dropped stones as the trio progressed
Their father, he noticed, was quite depressed
But he’d promised his wife to deliver the goods
And the children were left out in the woods.
In normal events they would surely die
But the moon was full and high in the sky
And on the path the stones showed bright
And guided them home, though the night.
Much later on, at about half past four
They loudly knocked on their parents door.

Both
Mother! Father! Open up the door!
We don’t want to sleep on the forest floor!
Aren’t you glad that we’re not lost?
Father — where you went to has got us tossed!

Woodcutter
It’s (ah) a long story. We’ll save it for another day
Suffice to say we just parted ways.

Step Mother (to children)
Oh. I. am. so. very. happy. to. see. you. back.
Now, to your room and hit the sack.

Step Mother ( to woodcutter)
You hopeless clot.  Can you do nothing right?
I will take them out myself, once it’s light.
Must I do my work and do yours too?
Look at my eyes when I’m talking to you!

The Forest Chorale
Once more the children heard them scheme
As they lay in bed pretending to dream.
But they couldn’t get any stones as before
As the mother had firmly locked the door.
Next day the mother packed a lunch
And put brandy in the drinks, for added punch.

Step Mother
Come, we are going to learn bush lore
So you can’t get lost as you did before.

The Forest Chorale
Hansel, in place of stones, took some bread
And left a trail of crumbs behind him instead.
Far out in the woods, where few people pass
The mother pointed to a patch of grass:

Step Mother
Come, this looks like a good place to sit
You can eat your lunch and rest a bit.

The Forest Chorale
A parenting tip, naughty but handy:
Children sleep well if dosed up with brandy.
When they awoke it was cold and dark
Their mother, it seemed, had left the park.
They looked for the crumbs to guide their trekking
But it seems the birds had done some pecking.
They wandered along until the forest cleared
And a vision of loveliness suddenly appeared.
A gingerbread cottage, all candy and cream:
A dietician’s nightmare but a young child’s dream.
As they pulled off tiles, intending to eat them
A wizened old lady came out to greet them.

Witch
Be careful now, you’ll make yourself sick!
The Heart Foundation declined me a ‘tick’.
But take your time, there’s plenty to explore:
My personal favourite is the caramel door.

The Forest Chorale
The old lady seemed so nice and so sweet
And Hansel and Gretel were desperate to eat.
They never thought that she could be a creep
When they lay down and drifted to sleep.
But when they awoke from their slumbering plains
Hansel was caged and Gretel in chains.

Social Worker
Don’t be harsh.  Don’t judge her quickly;
She was beaten as a child and was quite sickly.
She was also traumatised, by my case log
When a prince she kissed became a frog.

The Forest Chorale
A sad tale, one to produce copious tears,
But it did nothing to allay the children’s fears.
They cried and yelled to be set free
But it soon became clear that it was not to be.

Social Worker
I’d love to help, I can feel your pain,
But my budget has been cut again.

Witch
Young lady, to stop your brother’s squeals,
You’ll clean my house and cook my meals.
You’re brother’s caged, but worry not,
I’ll feed him well with all I’ve got.
I want to put some more meat on him
I’ll release him when he’s not so slim.

The Forest Chorale
Gentle reader, you can guess the plot:
Young Hansel’s destined for the cooking pot.
Every day the witch comes checks his state,
In order to guess her dinner date.

Witch
Show me your finger, you little brat!
I need to know when you are good and fat!

The Forest Chorale
Hansel knew that the witch’s sight
Was quite poor in the dappled light
So he offered her an old bone to feel
Left-overs, we fear, from a previous meal.

Witch
Your fingers boney, I’ve seen fatter germs!
There’s no meat at all, have you got worms?
Your sister’s fatter, I’ll eat her instead
And mop up the juices with some gingerbread.
There no feasting in your meager serve
But perhaps I can use you as hors d'œuvre.

The Forest Chorale
Now, Gretel saw this show unfold
And quickly guessed what her future would hold.
When the witch asked for the oven prepared
Gretel feigned ignorance and said she was scared.

Witch
Silly girl, you’ve done it before…

Gretel
I’ve forgotten. Show me how to open the door…

The Forest Chorale
The witch opened the oven by loosening a nut.
Gretel pushed her in and slammed it shut.
Howls of pain echoed through the air
As the witch was roasted, medium-rare.
Gretel then took the keys down from the shelf
And unchained her brother, as well as herself.

Social Worker
Oh! Well, I’m pretty sure she wont be missed
And it does free up my client list!
Now that the poor old witch has gone
I’m happy to take your cases on.

Hansel
We appreciate your concern, somewhat belated
But it appears our problems have rather abated.

The Forest Chorale
They then searched the house, at their leisure,
And found a vase that was full of treasure.
They stuffed their pockets as best they could
And headed off to escape the wood.

Hansel
Gretel!  Look a lovely white swan!
Let’s catch it back to where we’re from!

The Forest Chorale
Gentle reader, I have no choice, of course,
As the swan is in my reference source.
But you can’t demand logic or bemoan absence of nous
After accepting the idea of a gingerbread house.
And so the swan carried them over the water
To reunite father and son and daughter.

Both
Father, our step mother was so cruel and mean,
Where is the old bag of hate and spleen?

The Forest Chorale
The father said, vaguely, that he hadn’t seen her
But a part of his lawn was noticeably greener.

Both
Father!  Look! We have jewels and gold!
Never again will we be hungry and cold!

The Forest Chorale
Where the witch had got them was unexplained
But fair to say she wouldn’t want them again.
As they spread the treasure out on the floor
There was a sharp knocking at the door…

Constable
Good evening, Sir.  Could I have a word?
It seems a heinous crime’s occurred.
And do not think that you can run and hide —
The Murdoch press is camped outside.

(fades)

— THE END —

---
© J Cosmo Newbery 2012
---

Wednesday, December 26, 2012

CDXXIX - Come and Gone




Come and Gone

Christmas has come
And Christmas has gone
Just footprints in the snow. (1)
But never fear
It will return again
Just 364 sleeps to go. (6)

Christmas has come
And Christmas has gone
The wrappings fill the bin. (2)
The Christmas tree
Is largely ignored
And the sales can now begin. (7)

Christmas has come
And Christmas has gone
There’s cricket at the ‘G, (3), (4)
The ‘fridge is full 
Of left over stuff
To eat sliced, cold, for tea. (5)

Christmas has come
And Christmas has gone
A rest for Santa and the elves
The marketing machine
Moves to the next big thing:
Hot Cross Buns are on the shelves. (8)

Christmas has come
And Christmas has gone
But have we learnt a thing?
Where is all the peace
And joy, the season’s
Supposed to bring?


---
© J Cosmo Newbery 2012
---
(1) OK, granted it doesn’t snow here but all the Christmas cards can’t be wrong.  Can they?
(2) Recycle Bin, of course.   Wouldn’t want to have a larger carbon footprint than necessary.  Would we?
(3) Cricket – a game devised by the English, a largely Godless race, to give them some idea of what an eternity would be like.
(4) The ‘G = The MCG = The Melbourne Cricket Ground.
(5) Tea = dinner, supper, …well, any meal of your choice, really.
(6) OK, 243 sleeps until the carols are in the supermarket.
(7) Excluding the Boxing Day Sales that started before Christmas.
(8) They are in the labs for testing in September.  Fresh?  Don't go there.
...


Sunday, December 23, 2012

CDXXVIII - Missed the List



Missed the List.

Santa was at pains to insist:
That the good were found on his list.
But the ones who weren't there
Got their presents elsewhere
And weren't too sad to be missed.


---
© J Cosmo Newbery 2012
---

Reflection 6 : Life without Faith.



Theme Thursday asks us to write on 'Faith'.


Life without faith.

The proof of the pudding is in the eating.
I believe that I will be eating pudding in a few days.

Assuredly, life has ways of playing tricks. 
Things may not turn out that way.
But, in the absence of information to the contrary, I believe it to be true.

A believe built on the annual testing a ‘pudding appearance’ hypothesis.

The sun will rise* tomorrow.  It will.  
It has done so for some time now.
In the presence of history and understanding, faith is not required.

Faith is the hope that something implausible, 
something with no proof or history behind it, will happen.  

Miraculously.

Faith is life deferred. 

My pudding has history on its side.

Tomorrow’s daybreak has history on its side.

Proof enough.

---
© J Cosmo Newbery 2012
---

* Technical footnote: ‘Rise’ is an illusion when viewed from a rotating platform 
with only a notional sense of what is up and down.
.

CDXXVII - As If Apart



Imaginary Garden with Real Toads challenges us to write in the ‘Common Octave’  form.


As If Apart

Watching the world, as if apart,
Remote and on my own —
Can others not see what I see,
The follies that we’ve sown?

We live our life and then depart
Beyond this mortal zone;
Those not of the majority
Must walk this path alone.

---
© J Cosmo Newbery 2012
---




Friday, December 21, 2012

CDXXVI - Going, Going...Oh, Wait...



Seemed a topical thing to write about:

The Mayans predicted our demise,
Said disaster would roll through our skies,
But were quite quick to vanish
When invaded by the Spanish
Who apparently caught them by surprise
.

---
© J Cosmo Newbery 2012
---