Tuesday poems: Four via link
February 10, 2015
If you press this link, you will find four poems I just had posted at Eureka Street. Three quite spiritual and one political and sarcastic, called ‘Lord A of Yarralumla’, which concerns a certain politician who may be somewhat familiar to those interested in such matters.
http://www.eurekastreet.com.au/article.aspx?aeid=42445#.VNlHWkajHfU
I’ll leave you to guess which one is gleaning comments.
Meanwhile, at Tuesday Poem, there are, I believe, many more instances of poetry being committed. Press this link and find out.
Abbott’s booby
December 3, 2011
Sorry if the word ‘booby’ misdirected you here.
This is another poem about Tony Abbott, leader of the Liberal Party in Australia, which is similar to the Conservative Party in England, in many ways. (Here’s the first one published on this blog, relating to climate change.) I recently had a poem about Australia’s attitude to refugees who arrive uninvited published on Eureka Street, remembering the dozens of people who died last year, smashed on the rocks of Christmas Island, an Australian island that is no longer part of Australia for immigration purposes. That poem featured the Christmas Island crab. This one draws links between another native of Christmas Island, Abbott’s booby, and the Leader of the Opposition.
Abbott’s booby
This poem regurgitated itself into my mouth —
a sardine of ill repute, silver little slug.
Abbott’s booby is a native of Christmas Island,
flying around and around.
Its cry is unmelodious,
unfit for any proper idyll.
It picks up stray ideas
and smashes them onto rocks.
(It is in league with the crabs.)
It is a member of the Gannett family.
And there, the useful metaphors run out,
like a big country’s generosity.
For this is a large, graceful bird,
once it has struggled into flight,
and it only troubles the wind.
It is unrelated to the budgie.
It is endangered.
Others, though, are entering their prime.
Oh silver, stinking poem,
shoved down a gagging throat.
P.S.Cottier
the opposite of poetry?
July 14, 2011
Limericks are meant to be obscene, or at the very least, scurrilous. The strong ‘message’ and the clunky rhyme pattern make them a very particular form of poetry. One could not, I think, write a moving or sensitive limerick; that’s a different KOF, to be poured into a sonnet or free verse.
But where the expressed views of a public figure seem crude and somehow thoughtless, the limerick is the best form of poetry there is. Here’s one about the current Leader of the Opposition in Australia, Mr Tony Abbott, whose political position on climate change seems to be entirely based on crude populism. (Not that Julia Gillard’s government is a shining example of The Mind Made Flesh, but still…)
And I promise not to do the limerick thing again for a while. Please excuse double spacing; for some reason my computer ‘does this’ sometimes, and won’t listen to reason. Which actually seems appropriate for this little poem‘s subject.
My budgie slipped out...
There once was a leader called Abbott
who criticised just as a habit.
The climate did fry
and he couldn’t say why
which bemused this nay-saying maggot.
P.S. Cottier
PS Cottier 