Poetry from the Orchard

Jolliffe Tales

2012-01-28T04:00:00.000+10:00

Though I may have laughed aloud,
a mite irreverently, about the mob
whom Eric Jolliffe enshrined, I’m
not about to now; it was he who
had Australian icons elevate their
rustic heads and live a life surreal.

Okay, cartoons for sure although
I view the case and see lampoons
we tacitly agreed as fair – but if a
vintage of his comedy acclaimed
all Ettamogah Pubs irrespectively
inclined to wear those dreams I’d
gladly be obliged to stay away.

Well, I lunched there yesterday –
had a beer or two, & used the loo,
liked its decor and an understated
parody of what the past had been,
and that was what I’d come to see.

It was the crowd who came to eat
a sumptuous lunch, have a beer or
three, take time to revel languidly
in atmosphere as real as way back
when – and tiny kids agreed to play
at roles as old as comic repertoires
which claimed this was as real as
Eric ever deigned that it could be
© 20 January 2012, I. D. Carswell

Tamed Views (Of True Earth)

2012-01-27T04:00:00.000+10:00

cleaning windows is the ‘nth
degree of agony; nothing is
what makes ‘em crystal clear

those hardly novel views that
glass should be in place and
seen to be for safe elucidation

oddly bests living in esoteric
derivations of nonbeing, the
improbability of sheer zero

the presence of a no-smear
invisible shield which equally
repels insect and beast alike

benignly interpolating itself
between this place and that
untamed view of true earth

but somehow I trust cobwebs
more; eclectic hallucinations
vaguely alienated don’t erase

a spider’s autograph, it’s real
proof of existence exactly –
while upbeat debate ain’t
© 12 May 2011, I. D. Carswell

Lemon-Tinctured

2012-01-26T04:00:00.000+10:00

lemon-tinctured edge tonight
the wall of sky appends to blue
but up aloft and overhead – I could
expect a bat in flight to mark the
passing of today

it hasn’t happened in my
sight with strident silence yet
to blend reflections left alight
by stark and raw expressions
deftly stultified

to miss this moment means
a death of senses best and only
left to find their stars by patient
guides which strive to pacify
the passing day
© 20 June 2011, I. D. Carswell

Covetous Nobodies

2012-01-25T04:00:00.000+10:00

Won’t call it disappointment
not when it meant little change
to resigned expatriation

Sure, cleaning the space again took
a fair few days but thankfully much
less of an emotional engagement –

And there’s some pride in admitting
self-respect was the magical dab-hand
irony of classically ‘arty’ effects

So the late news nobody was coming
to inspect didn’t make waves – or
spawn grand theatrical agonies;

It’s the best she’s looked in ages
we agreed – as a perfect place those
covetous nobodies will never see
© 17 June 2011, I. D. Carswell

An Unravelling

2012-01-24T04:00:00.000+10:00

An unravelling, a
disentangling of strands
meshed in memories, a
warp’s weave and weft
of rare blessing less
the binding cloth

No unscrambling a
mask of regret – loss
left honour in a long
hour forgot, bartered
tattered sanity with
fabric disarrayed

Best wear obscurity
against the cost of
winter’s dread – a cloak
engrossed in need to
intertwine frayed strands
of what had used to be
© 23 May 2011, I. D. Carswell

My First Hardcore Song

2012-01-23T07:55:00.001+10:00

a glib line suggests that
she at eight will be the next
greatest entertainer ever
yet – and YouTube never lies
and 17 million hits prescribe
the measure of her fame

events of eminence have
more thorns than blooms –
although in Juliet’s case
there’s room perchance for
roses of adulation; remember
she’s only eight

and loves her dachshund
Robert, a suave dude whose
silent role plays a cool
counterpoint to impressive
energy she displays with
consummate finesse

but it’s back to school
today with advent of
reality; YouTube makes
the best and worst of
casual events seen easily
without implied causality
© 23 January 2012, I. D. Carswell

'My First Hardcore Song' by 8yr old Juliet OFFICIAL

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uU6U-8LP1DY&feature=player_embedded

Juliet, 8, shows her mettle on YouTube

by: By Daniel Knowles
January 23, 2012 1:00AM

http://www.news.com.au/entertainment/music/puppy-love-song-tops-hits-parade/story-e6frfn09-1226250859193

Going Rules

2012-01-23T04:00:00.000+10:00

Hoped a better ending
than the febrile clash of
wills defending frailty

Two brittle egos fake a
view of guarantees whose
edges flake too easily

Your freedom is derived
but it relies on certitude
assured in wry calamity

The advent of your will
won’t make a state of stable
truth which you subscribe

To cry consensus views implies
you had believed your wont
denied for far too long

The facts dictate you only
want to make the going rules
a stronger case for leaving
© 23 May 2011, I. D. Carswell

Put Together (Again)

2012-01-22T04:00:00.000+10:00

Awaiting news is animate oblivion,
the epitome of ideas fed on a blasé
diet of cognitive anxiety infectiously
multiplied with qualms of too well
schooled theatrical fiction

‘Tho no running from a plate
of uncertainty; the facts state
injury and pain – all from a fall
less sacrificial jeopardy or
sanctimonious grace

Nothing explains it easily or the
dumb diagnostic delays, or why
profound fears gestate digestive
anarchy in a maudlin matinee’s
appetitive revenge

Breakfast with friends isn’t the
regular way to discombobulate
relationships or make salacious
amends – or dislocate a shoulder
and be put together again
© 12 June 2011, I. D. Carswell

Better Off

2012-01-21T04:00:00.000+10:00

mostly you’re better off drunk;
pretence wears weary, breeds
unkind images of contempt

whether you were convincing
meant quizzing candidly with
motives carefully expressed

liked to think without prejudice
the mere act of asking explained
everything – but no,

places you in dilemma of a
constructed jeopardy, one
where innocence flees

not insouciance – not at first
and not convoluted orthodoxy
in new wave thinking

but if you understood what I
meant and I wasn’t drunk why
did I feel it was safer to be?
© 9 June 2011, I. D. Carswell

Lazy (Satyr) Day

2012-01-20T04:00:00.000+10:00

libidinous audacity
explains this magic
state; in ecstasy an
avidness of rapture
lingers languidly
of venous timbre
deftly seized and
aptly paced

haven for inflamed
ideas, welcome bed
ablaze, lusciousness
agreed in Saturday
obeys the adages of
lazy lusty verities
© 6 June 2011, I. D. Carswell

Half Of Everything

2012-01-19T04:00:00.000+10:00

if half of everything
equates consensually
with equity of common-sense
there’s a precipitous gap

even perdition of
meaninglessness suggests
we’re damned to our
own impartiality

what is my share
if what we had together
was immeasurably more
than either of us owned
© 4 June 2011, I. D. Carswell

Semblance (Of The Lie)

2012-01-18T04:00:00.000+10:00

Don’t get to hide from it –
there’s no mistaking an
intransigent reality, a tiny
space without reprieve or
amnesty is cruel in making
your rejection extra sour

Abandoning a pride of place
may cool off aching sanity – if
reason can explain a calumny
of dour and calloused wit too
apathetically placating dignity
so much disgraced

To stay retained at least an
air of gainful pride in taming
wildernesses ‘neath our feet –
footprints which survive will
guide a cause that neither
you or I could contemplate

But then you’re free of it and
everything denied remains; so
I preserve a semblance of the
lie your absence explicates, a
chance of living here in doubt
of consequential pain
© 2 June 2011, I. D. Carswell

Already June

2012-01-17T14:36:00.001+10:00

Already June – with that vertiginous
crap clinging like damp mould to
blankets huddled in; already half the
way from where you’ve been

Half the way between doleful extremes
of euphoria & apathy – though consoled
at unhinged intervals when dementia
soulfully plays precious trumpet solos

Always eager for good news from the
wings a-flush with magnanimity but
chary of sad bearers expected as less
wary harbingers of more of the same

Already June and well on the way to
where tomorrow precariously leans
shy of that grand structural design
you’d once aspired to be
© 2 June 2011, I. D. Carswell

Claims To Clarity

2012-01-05T04:00:00.000+10:00

A few seconds either way will not
pretence this turgid dissonance;
it clings as if it earned an honest
rights dependency – and well it
might in solitary evidence

Solidities one used to hail as firm
and bright realities are vague and
faded out of time and place, pale
as reminiscences one might have
heard or could have dreamed

Vagrant colours blend to white in
pallid shades, a hand that painted
rainbow shapes on canvas since is
bent and rinsed endangering all
claims to clarity it washed away

Once it wasn’t this, passions fixed
were stars within a firmament, a
stable sphere in arched restraint
where words and their exotic mix
of simple meanings never strayed
© 30 May 2011, I. D. Carswell

Off A Plate

2012-01-04T04:00:00.000+10:00

you are the meat
in my sandwich – no
impropriety intended

I savour views
of substance that
matters literally

we agree in more
feeding the eye than
mere imagination

so stay in the diners
analogy and I’ll eat
you off of a plate
© 24 May 2011, I. D. Carswell

Chimeras

2012-01-03T10:21:00.001+10:00

Harmonies aglow with tonal
soubriquets infused in places
closed, unusually to words, it
is accord embraced in sacred
space; therein an inner man,
a grey chimera of your passion
fused, a singularity whose shape
attests, aloof and free, it claims

You’ve mind to say tho’ silence
is a grateful truth in unity and
tone, within this miracle of
solitude I’m not and never been
alone – duplicates arraigned
can only make a fool of me
© 27 May 2011, I. D. Carswell

Things One Needs

2012-01-02T11:18:00.001+10:00

These are the things one needs: easily
found receipts, half-eaten samples,
mementos, beginnings of ideas – bits
and pieces blending together
untrammelled and sweet

No handbag size explains
dimensional largesse unduly implied;
understanding whether dreams or
necessities occupy sacrosanct space
is ever uncharitable estrangement

Believing there’s fantastic organisms
cloistered in hidden niches awaiting
random unzippering also fails – eyebrows
archly appraise why one need
keep them in a purse

Perhaps shoulder bag blandishments
explain the curse; where, be it maligned
or praised, one eventually locates
the car keys surely comes much
closer to the day’s reality
© 16 August 2011, I. D. Carswell

Lip Lies

2011-12-24T04:00:00.000+10:00

It’s true, she said begrudgingly, that
even he has features which in honesty
redeem an inchoate intransigence, you’ll
be as absolutely sure as it is possible to
be of when he lies; but he’s political we all
protest – chameleon at worst and best in
colours that confirm you’ll never know the
lilt and sway of whom you’re talking to

Oh, I can tell, she smiled, as graciously
a lady as who’d never let a fib degrade her
lips; there’s observations made by colleagues
in the trade as evidence in truth, they have
identified that every time he lied you knew
because his lips were moving too
© 23 December 2011, I. D. Carswell

Exigency (for rainy days)

2011-12-23T06:40:00.001+10:00

no surprises in that affirmation
searching soul is sure to find a
ghost or two in spaces deemed
revered by morbid fascination
freed restraint – but these are
not all binding things your fate
attests to circumstance, merely
chance expressed in vacancies

facts do not complain your use-
by date has passed and gone –
you planned it an exigency for
rainy days; it seems the scheme
brought great relief indeed for
some in need as welcome rain
© 30 June 2011, I. D. Carswell

Aussie Rules Debacle

2011-11-05T09:18:00.001+10:00

Should I cry wretchedly at news
no media bothered to place or be
amused how blithely it was ignored

But no news is good news if you’re
ignominiously traumatised LOSING
an AFL International series

Yes, Ireland BEAT Australia twice –
2 of 2 – won The International Cup
without a partisan murmur heard

Good grief, where were the hyped
sell-out crowds of AFL’s raison d'être,
why was a blazing TV frenzy absent

How come a ‘best of the best’ contest
failed to raise enough local interest to
rate even minor newsworthiness

C’mon Aussie Rules, non-events dent
your rep; you claim to have the world’s
best footy players (outside Ireland)

So why not challenge the Yanks to a
classic knock down drag out match;
you’ll need national fervour cranked

And bugger the Rules; if engaging
derring-do it’ll capture prospect fans
who don’t need to be initiated first
© 5 November 2011, I. D. Carswell

What You See

2011-10-31T04:00:00.000+10:00

assuming you are
less affected then
suggests discretion
or notable resilience

while delightful waves
wash over me in
self-referenced motes
of gaiety

gratification
crawls into an
impervious withering
of bewilderment

there’s nothing to read
in you with your glee
registering an
oblivious blank

Anxiety

2011-10-30T04:00:00.000+10:00

Shrugging off that reflex blench
suggests you had a choice – was
there a caution raised? No voice
appeals, is bandied to the fore as
cultured common sense, instead
a lucid roar silent in ambivalence
invades its fussiness to pall upon
the cusp of educated discontent

As if you really had a choice you’d
like to say – discounting chance
what was there found within the
matrix sought not tied to discrete
difference fraught with shivered
anxiousness still held in sway?
© 23 July 2011, I. D. Carswell

Age Agrees

2011-10-29T16:59:00.000+10:00

that age agrees and thus contains
the angst – like half-recalled triumph
over anxiety reflects relief but after
the event – like hoped for clarity
in modicums of dangling sense

but some believe in an erstwhile
plant of deep-seated suspicion
which cannot be trusted until that
last utterance of defeat – and then
with nothing approaching charity

yet it is still agreed; sleep comes
easily and satisfies with even less
obsequious preparation – even if
that last page has to be reread,
or the book started over again

aptly consulted age urges nothing
plainer than Satori – where rising
above a lifetime of notable failure
allows pleasure and content to be
found in lucid somnambulance
© 25 July 2011, I. D. Carswell

Mutual ‘Puppy’ Love

2011-10-28T04:00:00.000+10:00

leastways feeling conned suggests
a rare measure of value because
nothing grates worse than being
gauged a total waste of space

that she is two with beautiful blue
eyes of a skilled manipulator in
affective blackmail still pays an
upbeat brand of filial reparation

all in a day’s play for a gorgeous
lass whose lively chattiness hugs
all without exception – excepting
granddaddy intransigence

eyes say ‘so what’s bugging you
Grandpa?’ No reply mitigates mute
accusations, cutely she’s got the
number right every time

OK, so we do it your way commences
debt to anarchy, or more precisely
unconditionally ends free enterprise
begins truly mutual endeavour
© 27 July 2011, I. D. Carswell

Fricasseed

2011-10-27T04:00:00.000+10:00

Watched ‘em all, the petulant
lower lipped hairy eyebrowed
cauliflower eared archetypes,
which shouldn’t’ve made any
difference but in a genetically
conspired conspiracy – did!

They’re Gerrymander faeces
these Politicians! Catastrophes,
the remote sentence of human
events, an illogical use of the
word Democracy in its loosest
and wobbliest sense

And yet taking themselves so
solemnly – geeze that's a rich
fare for an everyman’s plain
diet; how can they represent
us fairly when we’re literally
meat they rapaciously eat?

That there’s no prudent choice
extant actually suggests collusion –
which is as illusory as believing
these beasts are there to serve
us truly. For they do indeed –
fricasseed!
© 29 July 2011, I. D. Carswell