Turning 60

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When I turn Sixty –
I’ll hike the Kokoda Trail
(No way my body will fail),
I’ll bound up the highest mountain,
Frolic naked in a city fountain.
 
And when I turn Sixty -
I’ll photograph like a kid,
No lines, wrinkles, nothing hid,
My skin pristine, cheeks a flush,
OK they might use the odd air brush.
 
And when I turn Sixty -
There’ll be no stopping me,
Watch me climb the tallest tree,
Hey, I will be the living proof
Of the meaning of Eternal Youth.
 
And when I turn Sixty -
I’ll prove that being Sixty
Is the new Fifty, Forty, Thirty,
On the wrong side of middle age?
No, Sixty’s got to be all the rage.
 
But now that I’ve turned Sixty -
I’ve started to feel a bit ditsy,
Memories start to make me misty,
And the old back is playing up,
May be no longer the young pup.
 
And now that I’ve turned Sixty -
I think I’ll take Sixty lying down,
Curl on the couch like a sleepy hound,
Snooze, then pop open a can of VB,
And watch adrenaline sports on TV,

Four winds

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NOR’EASTER

Glad you’ve arrived –

Not a minute too late!

 

Look at you:

Waltzing in

Flitting about

Skirting the crowd

Twirling for all to see.

Coquette!

 

Is that you?

Titillating sails

Winking at waves

Flirting with flags

Refreshing to all.

Strumpet!

 

And now you’re gone,

As fast as you came.

Fluky damsel!

Are you really

‘A breath of fresh air’?

 

 

NOR’WESTER

Bellows fan Satan’s pyre

engorging the limp land

flaming prongs that

pierce Life.

 

Acrid, blackened sky

maelstrom of eucalypt burn

couple with Death’s crackle:

A bush holocaust.

 

Helicopters hover

like giant dragonflies

above a scarlet pool

damping

the inextinguishable.

 

Ashen faces face

the Devil’s inferno

emboldened only

by their past.

 

And people wait

at their gate:

‘Will it slow?

Or will we go?’

 

Blow out, evil wind!

…I beg you.

 

 

SOUTHERLY BUSTER

Blustering in from Antarctic climes

Whitecaps on a simmering sea

Boats scuttle to safety

Like mice to holes

-Refuge.

 

In winter: harbinger of colder times

Overcoats and beanies

Frosted ground

Land and Man

-Shiver.

 

In summer: waking back porch chimes

Cooling frayed tempers

Turning bush fires

Inward

-Relief.

 

 

SOU’EASTER

Watery wind

blowing from o’er the foam

Syphoning Life

from the oceans you roam.

 

Maritime mother

drawing us to your breast

Suckling the Land

with moisture on request.

 

Damp day

sky and sea

coalesce into grey.

 

The Love Song of a Little Leech

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And here I lie on the ground,

Just waiting to be found,

Thousands of teeth at the ready,

In a slither of mucous jelly.

 

Hey, there’s no need for fright,

You really will love my bite,

I’m only a swipp’ry little sucker,

With one big, slobbery pucker!

 

So please keep coming – I won’t hurt,

Like Dracula, I just want to flirt,

Only a little blood will do,

Oh…I’m now so stuck on you!

The Pigeon (a sonnet)

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What is the point of a pigeon?

Have you ever pondered this thought?

I’ve scanned the books, all religions,

And believe this bird to be a rort.

 

There you waddle, pecking at refuse;

Fat head bobbles, you coo and scratch;

And you can home (that’s no excuse);

Those other birds you cannot match.

 

But God must’ve something in His mind:

A niche, a role for you my friend;

In pity I wink, reason sure to find;

Stop this poem reaching a sad end.

 

But now white goo splatters my eye;

Then a wink from pigeon up on high!

 

Runny nose poem

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RED, RED NOSE

O my Love’s like my red, red nose,
That’s newly sprung in June;
O my Love’s like an allergy,
That helps us snore in tune.

Now you’re so cool, my bony lass,
But so deep in snot am I;
And I will love you still, my dear,
Till all my sinuses go dry.

Till all my sinuses go dry, my dear,
And we can have some fun;
But I will love you still, my dear,
When again my nose does run.

So see you soon my only Love,
And see you, for a while!
And I will come again, my Love,
With one big snotty smile!

(Author’s note: Apologies to Robert Burns for the take on his poem ‘Red, Red Rose’)

 

 

Book lovers poem

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AT A BARNES AND NOBLE

I met her at a Barnes and Noble

She was young, I was much older

Coo-coo-ca-choo, she behind a folder

Our eyes then met, and I told her

I’m looking for a book

At a Barnes and Noble

 

We made love in a Barnes and Noble

It happened in the non-fiction section

Between Religion or History on reflection

No one noticed, no detection

Only the books saw the action

At a Barnes and Noble

 

We were married at a Barnes and Noble

It was literally a fine celebration

Filled with friends and the odd relation

Books and us – the ultimate creation

Books hailed our matrimony

At a Barnes and Noble

 

Our children live in a Barnes and Noble

Reading books is our only pastime

Other kids play Xbox, games of that kind

But this line I’m struggling to rhyme

I will get the answer

At a Barnes and Noble

 

This poem is brought to you

By Barnes and Noble

‘Book a Life’

At a Barnes and Noble.

A light at the end of the tunnel

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When the darkness is so overwhelming,

Look to the stars above for some hope,

The glow in the eyes of a child playing,

Helping the mind restore and to cope.

 

There’s a light at the end of the tunnel,

A hope to help lift us from despair,

A hole for water to escape a funnel,

Letting us out when the world’s unfair.

 

You will enter a place of still solitude,

Peace and quiet, solace from all the din,

To get there you’ll need to show fortitude,

As this nirvana you will find is within.

 

Perfection

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You caught my eye as

I ran on by

 

I doubled back to

take a look

 

And in the shop you

peered at me

 

Statuesque, perfect

in every way

 

Like Bo Derek in 10

a vision splendid

 

Such style, such elegance

a Sophia Loren

 

The curves, the contours

Angelina Jolie

 

But then I noticed you

did not move

 

Old Hall

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We came from near and from far,

To the hall at the end of the tar,

To dance to Frank and his band,

Far from war in another land.

 

We waltzed long into the night,

Till night gave way to first light,

Two tops in a twirl and a spin,

We danced with aplomb and a grin.

 

We joined as one in barn dance,

Chance to romance and to prance,

We thought our life was just made,

No chance of the bombs from a raid.

 

We slipped to the back of the hall,

None saw our stealth and our gall,

Not to think of whether we should,

We carved our love into the wood.

 

the floor has sprung

boarded windows clatter

in wind like a percussion solo

rats scuttle to their pit

battered paint peels

uncovering

‘Albie loves Essie’

 

a developer eyes the structure

‘Yeah, it’s a knockdown mate’.

 

A poem about cows and climate change

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A CHANGE IS IN THE WIND

 

Belch!

 

They’re watching us, these things called humans

Pens out, monitoring our rumens

Cows no fun

 

Pointing their fingers, shuffling their sheets

Murmuring about the planet’s heat

Cows help sun

 

Worried faces, showing their petulance

About our burps and our flatulence

Cows need bung

 

Uttering words, the most common ‘methane’

Hoping us cows would kindly refrain

Cow’s bad bum

 

With a gut like a still, it’s our only torment

Grass sloshes around, slow ferment

Cow’s big drum

 

Big cows with balls are the worst offenders

Blame males, that’ll help defend us

Cows well hung

 

They think it’s best to fit us with gas masks

Give us new grass to stop all the farts

Cow’s new tum

 

They’ll want us to dispose of our very own cow pats

Placing them into some underground vats

Cows no dung

 

See they carve us up or milk us bone dry

Now they say that we make all things fry

Cows hard done

 

No bull, we’re so over their bovine jokes

Go away and pick on some ‘udder’ folk

Cow bad pun

 

And don’t they belch things out, that’s a fact

What’s spewing from that factory stack?

Cows not dumb

 

See all we want to do is chew on our cud

Moo, poo, and trudge though the mud

Cows hum drum

 

So it’s over, all of this crap is enough

We’re taking a stand, getting so tough

Cows done fun

 

Let’s fight for ruminant freedom

Run with the buffalo, the sheep

Let’s herd together, fight to the end

Cows are one

 

Let’s stampede the Golden Arches

Go on long protest marches

Fight on beaches and on pastures

Even take to the air in the fastest

Cow Top Gun

 

And now the end is very near

The day that all of us cattle fear

The last to the abattoir is to be tanned

The fight was called ‘Muster’s Last Stand’

Cows out gunned

 

So if this story shocks, scares and amazes

That we Daisies could be ‘pushing up daisies’

Next time you question our windy emissions

Consider the risk of milk and meat omissions

Cow’s life done

 

(Author’s note: It is reported that ruminants, including cows, are directly responsible for 6.3% of anthropogenic global warming. Apologies to Dana Lyons for using some ideas from his song ‘Cows with Guns’)