Australiana # 23: My poem on Fraser Island

My friend, Raj, threw me the word, benign. I also happened to visit the Fraser Island off the coast of Queensland and so I combined the two and created a poem.

That's me wading through the clear waters of the Eli Creek on Fraser Island, off the Queensland coast in Australia

Fraser Island

The striated wood of the Satinay,

The timber that 'built the Suez',

Felled by the thousands,

On sandy Fraser Island.

The grand old ferns,

Their ancient memories,

Crushed under the feet,

Of a thousand lumberjacks.

It all started in 1863,

When came the 'Yankee Jack',

Welcomed by this benign land,

Who'd know what he'd take back?

The saws killed a forest,

That had seen a thousand fires,

Then came the miners,

To dig the sands up.

The natives got worried,

“What more do they lack?”

A paradise ruined,

A forest they'd never get back.

Finally the government

Realised it's all bad,

“Enough of logging,

Let the forest grow back!”

And so the forest stands,

On dunes of sand,

In the middle of the ocean,

A paradise, once again.

The Man Who Wants To Fly

Asks the man who wants to fly,

“Take me under your wing,

Guide me through the storm,

Guide me through to spring.”

I tell the man who wants to fly,

“Expectations you're harbouring,

Will cause you so much sorrow,

A painful punch it will be.”

Then the man who wants to fly,

Asks me how he can try:

“Like those birds on the horizon,

I want to reach for the sky.”

I tell the man who wants to fly,

“Feel the wind beneath your wings,

When people let you down,

There's no point complaining.”

Cries the man who wants to fly:

“What if my wings are tied?”

I tell the man who wants to fly,

“Tear away those rotten harnesses,

And find yourself a new beginning.”

Chalk and cheese

Asks the man after a bottle of wine,

"Define, 'as different as chalk 'n' cheese'."

Perplexed, I dodge,  "One I love. One I don't."

He responds with a picture:

A bird and a dog, and how they bond.

A bird and a dog, and how they love!

So complete, an enigma of sorts.

"Write a poem," the man tells me,

"A bird and a dog, how different they can be!"

"A bird and a dog, and how they shall be."

My mind fills with myriad images,

An oscillation of thoughts,

A recollection of visages.

My mind fills with faces of people,

Of many races, of many places,

As different as chalk and cheese!

My mind fills with loud noises,

Of chaos and commotion,

Of problems for all, 'Gondogol!"

My mind fills with many voices:

"Fights for one, fights for all!"

Conversation

My friends threw the words gargantuan, love, existence, unconditional, Almighty, gracious to me. Here's the poem I made of it:

Coversation 

A lengthy conversation,

A couple of friends,

A decade of disappearance,

A posse of memories.

Memories of voices,

People and places,

Of gargantuan choices,

Unconditional promises.

A maverick pilot,

A lonely scribe,

Many stories untold,

Many, they describe.

Words of love,

Of endearment,

Of encouragement,

Of entertainment.

The pain of separation,

The bane of existence,

The Gracious Almighty's,

Test of perseverance.

The Recalcitrant Schoolboy

Once again,

I am at the door,

Not the classroom's,

The principal's door.

Once again,

He'll ask me why,

“Why do you disobey?”

“Why do you fight?”

Once again,

I'll purse my lips,

He'll shake his head,

Clench his fists.

Once again,

He'll label me,

“Indisciplined,

Recalcitrant!”

Once again,

I'll be in a room,

All alone,

My detention room.

Throw Me A Word: Poetry through social media

My new e-book, Throw Me A Word, a compilation of my poems, is available on Kindle. Do check it out here.

Throw Me A Word: Poetry through social media

The Tiny Shop

My friends suggested the words: Matryoshka, blue, depravity, gallivanting, power and discombobulate for my next poem. Here it goes:

The Tiny Shop


Through a huge window,

of St. Gobain glass,

I see a Matryoshka,

with a blue babushka.

A tiny shop,

A puny manager,

Few visitors,

Fewer customers.

Hundreds of toys:

pretty dolls,

racing cars,

gallivanting horses.

“O, what a place,

this used to be!”

The puny manager

softly tells me.

“The power of stories!

The vibes of players!

The drama of colours!

The vision of the owner!”

“Then came the mall,

down this very road.

Like the big bad wolf,

it took us all down!”

“Deceive,

Disturb,

Discombobulate,

Destroy!”

“The baseness of greed,

The depravity of culture,

A legacy's lost,

A generation's, unnurtured.”

Doctor's yard

My friends suggested the words Dysdiadochokinesia, anticipation, gratitude, arachnophobia, reality, solidarity, paraphernalia for my next poem. Here it is:

Doctor's yard

Waiting rooms,

White walls,

White coats,

Whiter faces.

Anticipation,

Trepidation,

Palpitation,

Perspiration.

A mind, full of fear:

Arachnophobia,

Another's malfunction:

Dysdiadochokinesia.

Syringes, tubes,

Paraphernalia.

The smell of spirit,

Liquid and human.

Reality

Gravity

Solidarity

Magnanimity.

A doctor's form,

Words of comfort,

A patient's gratitude,

A mind quietens.

Tryst

My friend suggested the word, tryst, for my next poem. Here it is:

Tryst

“O, why don't you trust me?”

The young man asks me:

A handsome young man,

A powerful young man,

The young man who loves me.

I look into his eyes:

Piercing, intense,

Imploring brown eyes.

My own reflection,

In those pained brown eyes.

I look around;

A garden of shadows,

Of noisy crickets,

And buzzing mosquitos.

“This tryst is our last.”

I say softly, as guilt fills me:

The guilt of resignation

The guilt of dread

The guilt of love.

Fallen: Painting with twigs and ink on paper