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Posts: 139
Reply with quote  #16 

Second Dawn

Could a weapon be so terrible to wield
that it would bring about the end of war
because it would herald the end of life
if used to settle an angry score?

It was a second dawn
when the first atom bomb lit up the sky
and a second dawn again
when sent to remove a city from time

Mutually assured destruction
made the angry think twice
about another second dawn
that could send them out of time

As the clever tool-maker builds spaceships
and creates machines that can think
is the second dawn weapon a sign
that its time for peace to have a fling?

More terrible weapons wait in space
with the power of a second dawn
and no radiation fall-out
when kinetic weapons are born

Just a telegraph pole of metal
falling through the sky
that cannot be stopped
until striking where it fly

The fear of kinetic weapons in space
may make peace a thing to last
as everyone watches everyone
to make sure such weapons are past

So is space the key to peace
and the end to second dawn death
as folk spread out in space
and find happiness is a better bet?

Where creativity displaces war
where dreams can have their day
in the light of the Sun in space
folk can find better ways to play


NOTE ~   Will space reveal a new phase in human evolution? Once in space, with direct access to the power of the Sun, unlimited resources, and factories set up for endless production, kinetic weapons could be built that would threaten all enemy cities and bases on Earth. Kinetic weapons cannot be stopped, once on their way to a target, use only the gravity of the Earth for acceleration, and upon impact, have the power of an atomic weapon, but with no radioactive fallout. The simple realisation of this may lead to an unexpected wave of cooperation in space, with demands for transparency, so that kinetic weapons cannot be made, stock-piled, or deployed, by governments or free enterprise. With plenty of space in space for expansion and development, war can be left in the past, with conflict displaced by creativity. If space is the key to peace, then a future in space is quite critical for human health and survival, both on Earth, and in space.

Implications of Kinetic-Kill Missiles ~

J. Robert Oppenheimer ~ "I am become death, the destroyer of worlds." ~


Posts: 139
Reply with quote  #17 


Some artists shine
inspired by their muse
in making amazing creations
hung in a gallery
for the art world to see 
where critics can sing adulations

Like Serendipity
the goddess in science
delivering unexpected discoveries
that were not sought
and arrived all unexpected
making for a hearty round of revelries

Like a flight of imagination
the muse dancing around the studio
may have sprung from a dazzling vision
or risen from memory
to haunt the mind's mirror
like sirens singing sailors into destruction

Driving hand to brush
to cast the magic palette live
however plain the dreamer's compositions
however wild the meanderings
however masterful the renderings
the spirit of the muse inspires new creations

And the artist, bemused, laughs
and wonders how that happened
and how this moment can be recreated
when the light flows onto canvas
when a window is seen beyond each stroke
when dreams fly from a heart wild and liberated

Should the artist get tired 
should red wine flow in bitter sorrow
then the muse may weep at the loss of zest
fade in the mirror 
and climb to the window
seeking another to serve on their quest

Maybe the artist falls out of bed
and shaken awake, rekindles the light
like a dog out of the water that shakes like mad
drenching everyone around
new work begins, new fire unsheathed
and the artist laughs, where once had fallen sad

Distracted in flight 
the muse stops, turns around 
flies back through the mirror, the studio
to join the frivolity 
the drawings that make the art
the new inspirations that are ready to go

The artist knows
that the muse will depart 
if the art slides away into sorrow  
if the brushes fall
if the palette hits the floor
if they lose the song of the morrow


NOTE ~   The idea of the muse in art is a whimsicle notion, and a way to describe inspiration. The art historian, Kenneth Clark, once wrote ~ “Facts become art through love, which unifies and lifts them to a higher plane of reality; and, in landscape, this all embracing love is expressed as light.” (‘Landscape into Art’, 1949, 1976, page 33). It is the love the artist devotes to a work, along with skill and passion, that can turn a picture into a work of art, and a creation that other people come to love. It is this connection of love which also lifts a work of art in value. A painting will not stand the test of time to grow in value, because it is quite good with excellent technique. A painting will rise in value and be seen as truly great, through the love connection, that so many people love that work, and would be prepared to buy it, if they could. Lesser works by the same artist will then increase in value, because they are part of the body of the artist's work. And when the artist is gone, their work may increase in value, if the work of the artist continues to inspire love and attract passion for the work. In this mix, the inspiration that has filled the work of the artist, may be a form of muse. For Salvador Dali, his muse was a person, with Gala his wife and lover, who featured in his art many times, and who inspired his creative aspirations. For other artist's the muse may be more ethereal, a play of light that dances in their life, inspiring thir imagination. Can anyone have a muse, an inspiration in their life? If the living of a life is a walking work of art, then yes: anyone can have a muse to inspire and amuse them. It is the love that is lived, and shared, that makes a life into art, and give a life greater value.


Posts: 139
Reply with quote  #18 


Waiting at the bus stop on a cold winter's day
cars roaring by, and trucks never stay
A cyclist wobbles along, a really old guy
and a woman with four babies
smiled and says "Hi"

Clouds roll over, a few splats of rain
whipped along by the wind, what a pain
and the bus isn't seen
what a very long wait
life can be so mean

Seagulls flying over in their never ending hunt
seeking hot chips, that would be the stunt
But there's only this pole
the bus stop and me
stuck in this cold windy hole

Why is there a swan flying by on the wing
a rather large bird, that I can hear sing
There's a rainbow falling into the sea
so bright in the air with the clouds
shining in the wind for all to see

There's no one around, but that swan is here
having landed, standing tall as a deer
Something strange in the air
being now by a pond
with a swan, with a glare

Legs gone to jelly, clothes gone away
the swan coos quite gently, in its swanny way
Stepping around me, his wings beating air
he looks into my eyes, into my soul
pokes his beak into my hair

Feathers upon skin so gently, it tingles
like a breeze in the air, it tugs and it pulls
How long is it lasting, this thrusting inside
driving ecstasy like electricity
sparkling and fluttering along my side

A thrashing of feathers, a beating of wings
a fanning of passion, with a swan that now sings
Like sticky honey running in the Sun
the smell is strong of flowers and bees
and I laugh, and I laugh in the joy of the fun

In the sun by a lake where the storm now subsides
I'm buzzing all over, gazing into those eyes
Caressed by his feathers so softly
held by that body so strongly
loved by that long neck so gently

"It's here" said the mother with four babies
"Could you help with these treasures"
onto the bus, and onto a seat
I look out the window
and wonder where I left my feet

All I can see are the eyes of a swan, looking at me
all I can feel are those feathers, touching so softly
The bus groans on through the cold winter's day
where the rainbow is seen on the river
and the hills passing by, to where I stay

Filled with feathers like a pillow stuffed tight
I close my eyes and there is a swan in the night
Such an amazingly beautiful sight
wrapped in a rainbow
through the clouds in flight

The birth was unexpected, was I a dinosaur!
four eggs delivered, and were there any more?
I thought it was a dream, some witches coven
that I imagined a swan, and those feathers
but now I've four orbs in the oven

Low warmth, like a bird, turning the eggs
so large, what will hatch from between my legs
Four cygnets, or four babies, and where is their dad?
left with a clutch, with a dream, with a memory
I thought it didn't happen, and then I found it had


NOTE ~   The mythical tale of Leda and the Swan came rising up out of the Earth recently, with the discovery of a painting in Pompeii. This is my take on the telling of the tale of Leda and the Swan, in a modern kind of way. I waited at that bus stop in the poem so many times, and maybe I would have rather ran off with a swan. And seagulls were a big thing in thise parts too, ever after hot chips, if they could get them. But, do you like the story in the poem, and do you like the poem with this story? Anyone unfamiliar with the tale of Leda and the Swan, will see through that window with this article …..
Stunning Fresco of 'Leda and the Swan' Sex Scene Found in Pompeii 
Ariel David, 19 November 2018, Haaretz
I had been collecting images of the nude in art, with a view to a follow-up show in the Sedja Sky Gallery at Nautilus City, to follow on from the Ancient Nude Photos exhibition there. I have well over twice as many as the 222 needed to fill that gallery now, and so many very interesting and intriguing views of the nude from ancient times, to now. One theme that has emerged in the gathering, has been the tale of Leda and the Swan, so many takes, from ancient times to the present. Now I wonder if I will find  the number of images needed to fill the Sedja Sky Gallery. This is rude art, being about sex, and passion with a beast, who was really the head god of the Greeks. So it is religious art of another age.
One visual telling of the Leda tale in a art gallery, crossed the path of the law, who demanded the photos be taken down. I could not help but wonder if art lovers should have taken to the police with feather dusters. There is something much more than sex in this story. There is a level of eroticism that all lovers can delight in. Maybe, this is one of the roles of art in mystical ways, to respect, but also to crave those feathers, swooshing, thrashing, tickling, teasing, reaching down through time and tide to tell us so …..
Police Force Gallery To Remove Leda And The Swan Image For 'Condoning Bestiality'
Sam Parker,  30 April 2012, The Huffington Post UK
You be the judge of that story, and also be the judge of the telling of theLeda tale unearthed in Pompeii. What really amazes me about this ancient piece of art, is that it is so well preserved, that the colours are so fresh, and it is also a really good work of art. Many frescos have not survived well after two millennia, but this work shows how good Roman painting skills could be …..


Since writing Feathers I have set up another gallery in Second Life, round, 64 metres in diameter, 12 levels, in which I am setting up an exhibition of images of Leda and the Swan myth. There will be over 600 images, mainly of paintings, exploring all aspects of this myth. When I began looking for images of paintings of the Leda myth, I was not expecting to find so many. Some I now replace with better quality images, as they are found. I am working my way around Level 11 at present, and when the final image goes up on Level 12, I plan to write an essay on this myth, and why so many artists decide to paint it, or make a sculptural rendition.

The Snow Gallery in Second Life .....



Posts: 139
Reply with quote  #19 

Lava Tree

There's a country town called Lava Tree
surrounded by farms full of sheep
where a huge hollow tree can be seen
in which pioneers would once sleep

When asked how the town was labeled
the Lava Tree folk would say
it was that big old tree where pioneers slept
that gave the place its name

"But why Lava Tree?" the visitors asked
wondering about a volcano
then one old timer might shuffle forth
and offer to tell what he know

Said that it was due to the fact
that a cottage was built by the tree
and instead of building an outhouse
they thought they'd have one for free

As the truth of the tale rose to dawn
cluey listeners caught onto the story
that the lava in Lava Tree was simply
that the tree had become a lavatory

Said normal in local chat
that word came out as "lavatree"
and as the pride of the town was that tree
that is the name that had to be

So if visiting Lava Tree, best be polite
if you know how the town got it's name
as jokes about living in an outhouse town
might not go down as tame

Just buy the postcard on the way out
of a town with a mighty tree
to show your friends in distant lands
that you have been to Lava Tree



Note ~   Ask Mr Google for directions, and hunt long enough, and many stories emerge of people living in hollow trees, including Friedrich and Caroline Herbig and two of their 16 children in South Australia, until 1860 ~
Stories from Lava Tree may return to haunt the verse boats from time to time.


Posts: 139
Reply with quote  #20 


I don't remember
my first bear
I have the photo
and see it there

As a baby
as a child
must have loved that bear to death
naturally wild

What memories did I have of bear
as a child
which I cannot see now
all lost in a forest wild

I remember that child
I remember the house in a tree
the fireworks and the beach
among the bullrushes, running free

But what did that child remember
was there a bear in there
loved to death
that poor old bear

I remember the pain
of the spanking sticks
when out too long
chasing tricks

Do we learn time
through pain
to wake us up
make us sane

That little child
in a play tent
on the sand in the rain
time spent

Big brother came look'n
found a child in a tent
playing with sand
castle time spent

I don't think bear was there
he might have gone by then
into the wild jungle of lost memories
with the toy car and metal hen




Note ~   You look back at yourself looking at you, at the camera, and might wonder how you got to be the one looking at the photo of baby you. What are we? What do we become? What lies ahead to happen? All part of the future of our tiny self ~ with or without bear.

One day in 1988, when my daughter was in primary school, I went to her class to show the students how I made an oil painting. I took a model along with me, an Edward Bear, adopted at a supermarket one year, and still around the house. As the time came near to depart, I asked if there were any questions. There were. One little girl put her hand up and asked, "Can I have the painting when it is finished." What could a father say in front of all the students. I complied. It was a happy day. I took the painting back to my studio to complete the work, and then when it was dry, took it back to the school, so it could stay in my daughter's class for a couple of weeks. Such is the education of the young, even with a bear art model.

Hon for Tum
Edward bear is rather funny
he loves eating lots of honey
its on his nose, and on his paw
and sometimes on the kitchen floor
And when he’s full and all cleaned up
he loves to lounge and have his tum
rubbed round and round to left and right
and close his eyes in dream of flight
Away he goes among the clouds
to far off lands, exotic sounds
and nose around for you know too well
the honey pot that makes him swell
Until just like a round balloon
he rolls around from room to room
nodding off to sleep in the afternoon
until the rising of the Moon
So do be kind to poor old Ted
and do be sure that he’s well fed
all he needs is lots of honey
and don’t forget to rub his tummy



There are two avatars in the photo above, taken in my house in Second Life. One you know, and the other is my bear avatar, called Edward Bear. It is fun to see Edward run around. He hasn't been out for a while. Too busy writing poems, I suppose, and that's me. Below, and in the photo, is my 1988 painting of Edward Bear, the bear model who ruffled his fur in front of a room full of students.



Posts: 139
Reply with quote  #21 


The ferry bell rings 
through the morning fog
ding ding, ding ding
tells other boats it comes
through the briny deep
ding ding, ding ding

The paddle steamer
plied the harbour
where wind-blown waves
white in a sea breeze
whipped in after noon
on many sunny days

The old Double-guts
the Kangaroo
connected West and East
plied the river
for horse and cart
on its river beat

Grandfather went that way
with a cow from the farm
escaped into the lagoon
was caught again
and herded hard
to ride the ferry at noon

The great guns at the fort
crossed the river 
on the Double-guts
hauled to their nest
to guard the town
against Russian guns

Years swam by
until the ship died
to fade into history
then the old bell
was a gift to the school
becoming a memory

Hearing that bell as a child
call the school into class
ding ding, ding ding
one day I played the fool
hid in the bushes
ding ding, ding ding

Wandered in later
might have been caned
don't remember that displeasure
then the school moved
with a nice loud siren
so the bell became a treasure

Stolen once as a joke
stolen again with intent
when the bell really did escape
never seen for decades
despite many hunts
until seen in a dead man's estate

Far across country
north of Bass Strait
the buyer knew where it belong
gifted to the Maritime Museum
who were quite pleased 
until my old school came along

"That's our stolen bell!"
the teachers cried
and students wondered what was there
like Solomon's baby
a deal was struck
between school and museum to share

So the treasure returned
a circle through time
ding ding, ding ding
an echo of history
from an earlier age
ding ding, ding ding


Note ~   I never knew the Kangaroo, it was gone before my time, but I knew the bell, as a child, in the old Bellerive School, which may reveal my age. I went in search of the bell from the Kangaroo when seeking to found a local history museum in Bellerive in the 1990s ~ and could not find it. The bell had gone to Victoria, north across Bass Strait, but now it's back, to give form to its story, and a solid brass window into history. Looking at the photos, it is interesting to know and see that this ferry was a paddle steamer, but with only one wheel, concealed in the central area: and also that the ferry was a catamaran, with twin hulls. During its life, the Kangaroo, or the Double-guts, as it was popularly known as, served to transport people, animals and wagons across the River Derwent, between Hobart and Bellerive, in Tasmania, the island state of Australia. During the fear of a Russian invasion of Australia in the 1880s, forts were built around the harbour, including the Kangaroo Bluff Battery in Bellerive. The great guns for the battery at Bellerive were made in Scotland, transported to Hobart by ship, carried across the river on the Kangaroo, and were then hauled to the Kangaroo Bluff Battery, where two can still be seen. In a poetic twist, the Russian threat vanished when the emerging Japanese Empire defeated the Russians in a naval battle. Before the Second World War, scrap metal was being sold off to the Japanese, and two of the smaller guns were blown up at the Fort. This sent a shock-wave through the mudstone of the bluff, and cracks up through the brick house near-by. As a consequence, no more blowing up was permitted, so the two large guns have survived. When the smaller guns were blown up, pieces of metal rained down all over Bellerive, with some falling into the school playground, not far from the Fort. One piece of metal struck a duck, killing it, which is the only known death from the great guns that defended Hobart. When my art studio was in an old shop in Bellerive, I would walk around the Bluff, were Darwin once walked on his World cruise on the Beagle, and go to the Fort as dusk fell, as the stars appeared above, and as the lights of the harbour were spread around like a great twinkling necklace. One day I was lying there, by one of the old gun emplacements, and I thought, that is not a stone. And it wasn't. I had found a piece of metal from when the guns were blown up for the Japanese war machine. The Japanese did visit Hobart during WWII, flying a plane from a submarine, and soldiers stationed at the Fort duly shot at it, but the plane survived and returned to the submarine waiting out at sea.

Report from the Bellerive Primary School
"In 1926 the bell off the paddle steamer P.S. Kangaroo was presented to the school by James O’May and was hung at the main entrance and was used to signify special times during the school day. Unfortunately the bell was stolen from the Leslie St site however was found again in 2013 and donated to the Maritime Museum. While the Museum owns the bell the school is the custodian of it and it can be viewed in the administraion area of the school.” ~






Posts: 139
Reply with quote  #22 


OK, I hear you
so, please speak
and tell me your story
What happened up the creek?

Saw a car in Mountain Creek, one day
with a number plate that read "UP THE"
took me 3 seconds to get that
the car was UP THE creek

Sorry, it was your turn
you were going to say
something about XXXX
and the barbed wire way

of building a canoe 
that can also leak
and no paddle needed
what a crazy feat

I'm listening
do tell
I won't interrupt
it was a bit like hell

that proverbial creek
no place to be
without a paddle
and leaking free

It's up the hill now
without a creek
but it was up for a time
in Mountain Creek

A canoe, you say
that's quite a whopper
made of XXXX
and wired up with copper

So what's ya story
I'll stop to hear
promise to listen
would ya like a beer?



NOTE ~   Have you ever met anyone who talks, and talks, and talks? They never seem to stop. They can be very nice people, but they are compulsive speakers, and they are not always very keen on listening. Or, have you been in a crowd and tried to catch on to a story being told, only to hear disjointed fragments, hear enough to know there is a story, but not hear or get the full story. This poem is a bit about both of those things. And the poem is twisted into a story about an old expression, called “up the creek”, or “up the creek without a paddle”, or “up shit creek without a paddle”. When I made a barbed wire canoe in Tasmania in 2005, I began investigated the origin of the saying. The Wiktionary description below sums up what I found at the time, except for the detail that I had built a barbed wire canoe, to fit the Australian version, “up shit creek in a barbed wire canoe without a paddle”. So, where did the "barbed wire" come from? An extensive search showed no evidence for the “barbed wire” addition, until an Australian movie called The Adventures of Barry McKenzie. I once wrote to the Producer of the movie, Phillip Adams, but he could shed no light on whether barbed wire was added to the saying for the movie. On the long running Late Night Live show on Radio Nation on the ABC (Australian Broadcasting Commission), hosted by Adams, he would often use the polite version of the earthy saying, with “inadvertently detained in the upper reaches of a proverbial creek in a well-known means of conveyance without any method of propulsion”. When moving to Brisbane in 2007, so did the barbed wire canoe, and then north to Caboolture, and then to Mountain Creek on Queensland’s Sunshine Coast, further north of Brisbane. So, my barbed wire canoe has genuinely been “up the creek”. How many barbed wire canoes built by crazy artists can boast that? The canoe returned to Tasmania in 2015, and now sits up the hill above Ross, overlooking the town, but with no creek. Have barbed wire canoe, will travel, even up the creek.

My investigations revealed a separate origin for “up the creek without a paddle”, in the United States of America, referring to a paddle steamer getting stuck on a sand bar. I also looked into the origin of barbed wire, but could find no use of “barbed wire” in the US version of the term, before the Australian movie, The Adventures of Barry McKenzie.
XXXX ~ This is a Brisbane beer, and is also a slang term for barbed wire, and other expressions involving 4 letters.
"This phrase may have come from England's Haslar Creek in Portsmouth harbour, a 'salt' creek. (It may also be the origin of the alternative 'up shit creek'.) Wounded sailors during the time of Admiral Horatio Lord Nelson (1771–1805), were taken there to be transported to the Royal Naval Hospital in Haslar to die or recover. The ships moored up in the Solent and the wounded soldiers were transported up Haslar creek by tramline hence 'Up the creek without a paddle'. They were held prisoner so that they would not desert while being treated, and some tried to escape by going through the sewers to the creek (another suggested origin of the alternative 'up shit creek'). Without a paddle this would be hopeless, hence the phrase 'up the creek (without a paddle)' to mean being trapped, stuck or in trouble. Some very obscure navy related jargon entered the popular culture of the seafaring peoples of the British Isles, and thus entered the English language as a whole.”
Haslar Royal Naval Navy Hospital
The Adventures of Barry McKenzie
My barbed wire canoe in Ross, Tasmania, is now up a hill, beyond the reach of any creek .....



Posts: 139
Reply with quote  #23 

Race Day

With a huge hollow tree, unique
towering high over the town
Lava Tree folk held an annual race
which drew in heaps of renown

With a race like no other, ever
held every last Sunday in May
the folk would test their wit and mirth
in a most unusual way

Crowds gathered in town from miles around
some to race, and some to rage
and news hounds came too, with cameras
to report from the country stage

The sheep parade came first
to select the prettiest ewe in the land
freshly washed wool, and coloured ribbons
made them all fluffy, alluring and grand

Then came time for the unexpected
with the sheep that were taught a tune
trained to bleat songs with a range of barrrs
they were thunderous when in the mood

As if no act could beat the ewes
the dancing lambs were extra cute
it doesn't take much to make a lamb jump
and prance to a spirited tune

Then the hour came for the race of the day
that all in the town were expectin
when the competing thrones were revealed
the outhouses rigged up for racin

The farmers sat in their dunnies on wheels
with seven strong rams for the pullin
and a dog on their backs for the barkin
to make them go faster than sinin

Poised on the line for a run round the town
the rams all frisky and ready to go
the dogs making circles on the sheep's backs
and the farmers all poised for the show

Never had there been such a colourful field
of outhouse painted like jockey race tops
all of the rainbow, with pennants to fly
and ready, set, go from the stops

Then the pig was released. But why?
There was never a reason, just tradition
to tell the field that its time to fly
to leap to the fore, and no hesitation

Distracted by pig, sheep stood and stared
despite canine bark, snarl and goad
then farmer Maple gained the jump
and her rams were off down the road

But poor farmer Maple was on her back 
in an outhouse now left on the road
as her rough team of rams led the field
and all she could do was go home

Penants a'flyin and outhouses jumpin along
farmer Cripes missed the turn with a streak
takes to the air like a mythical god
and makes a mighty splash into the creek

At the turn by the tree, farmer Muddle
left the road, where the rams ran inside
the hollow tree, which was busy
where squeals and screams ends his ride
Surviving outhouses were flying with zest
in a cloud of barks and barrrs
where farmer Doom took to the lead
until losing a wheel midst a flock of galahs

The home stretch came into sight
with crowd roaring the teams along
dogs barking with all the  excitement
as rams barrred louder and strong

The finish line ribbon was snapped
and the winner awarded the prize
in tradition a tiny outhouse, in bronze
as a reminder of a jolly good ride

So ends the Lava Tree race day
with everyone gone to the bar
singing songs from the old days
leave'n the sheep outside to barrr


NOTE ~   A great day!!! This is poem number 21 in the Poems Galley. If you haven't read ~ Lava Tree ~ it may help if you do, as this poem is the second in a series about a country town with a very large hollow tree.

"With the invention of indoor plumbing, outhouses have mostly become a thing of the past. Yet many frontier cities in the United States still hold an affection for the wooden sanctuary, paying it a special kind of homage each year."

And there be rules for Outhouse Racing in the Iowa State Fair ~

While asking Mr Google about “outhouse racing”, try the Images, and you will see that it even happens on the snow.

And in Canada.

I like the steam train version.


And one loo in a prison cell.

Toilet paper for a finnish line.

Will there be outhouse racing in space? ~

And also ~

There’s a whole other world out there in the crystal ball for outhouses …..

When living in Murdunna in the 1980s, the owner of the service station in Dunalley asked me to make a drawing from his house across Boomer Bay. It was quite a wonderful scene. But round to the right, in awesome view, was an outhouse on a an upraised platform as high as the outhouse. Ummm. I wrote a poem about that, on the spot, likening it to a rocket on the launch-pad, ready to go into space. Later, after receiving the drawing, and paying for the artistry, the service station owner went home with his sketched prize, and after a while, notice the poem that I had left behind. Well, that's one way to crack somebody up (which means, to make them laugh).


Posts: 139
Reply with quote  #24 


Their ship was a tin in the vacuum of space
three days from Earth in an alien place
when they rounded the Moon
all craters and dust
and saw the Earth rise with amazing grace

The Earth rising in space made the news
inspiring a whole new environmental tune
by people who loved this Earth
who hated the harm
and wanted to make everything new

But the Earth is old and has laboured long
delivering children to rise from the throng
to fly from the nest into space
to discover the beauty
of the dance of stars and celestial song

But the children could not see that space
was the next step in the evolution place
they clung to the Earth real bad
failing to see the price
of the trap of the Earth as a maze

The space people could see the power
of the Sun in space like a flower
shining bright with radiance
to create any dream
imagined in the celestial bower

But the oil people all said "No!" to space
and the coal people said "No!" to space
and the gas people said "No!"
and Earth people said "No!"
only space people said "Yes!" to space

Fifty times around the Sun to know
fifty years of carbon gas to flow
and now the heat rises
we wonder how fast
fifty years of delay when we should "Go!"

The Earth rise was a sign from space for us
to rise to the challenge of evolution we must
to run with the demands of survival
to find new ways in space
and to know the celestial beauty and fun

Now the clock ticks down for us on the ground
with an eerie silence from the stars around
as if to say you waited too long
as others have waited too long
so will we make the silence of the stars abound

Or do we stand a chance of winning our survival
by lifting our game, if a bit late on arrival
by running with Nature
running to space
to win a ticket to the celestial carnival?




Apollo Astronaut Shares Story of NASA's Earthrise Photo
NASA, 29 March 2012

"I don't know who said it, maybe all of us said, 'Oh my God. Look at that!'"Anders said. "And up came the Earth. We had had no discussion on the ground, no briefing, no instructions on what to do. I jokingly said, 'well it's not on the flight plan,' and the other two guys were yelling at me to give them cameras. I had the only color camera with a long lens. So I floated a black and white over to Borman. I can't remember what Lovell got. There were all yelling for cameras, and we started snapping away."

"Earthrise" is the name given to a photograph of the Earth taken by Anders during lunar orbit on Dec. 24, 1968. Earthrise became one of the most famous photographs from all of the Apollo missions and one of the most reproduced space photographs of all time. It has been credited for inspiring the beginning of the environmental movement. In Life Magazine's 100 Photographs that Changed the World edition, wilderness photographer Galen Rowell called Earthrise, "the most influential environmental photograph ever taken." Another boost of fame came in 1969 when the U.S. Postal Service issued a stamp commemorating the Apollo 8 mission.

Col. Frank Borman, commander
Capt. James A. Lovell, Jr., command module pilot
Major William A. Anders, lunar module pilot

Note ~   When Apollo 8 astronaut William Anders took a photo of the Earth rising above the Moon's dusty surface, a new environmental vision erupted on Earth. That the Earthrise photo was taken in space appeared to be swiftly forgotten. The space people had a vision that would keep this Earth safe, by building solar power stations in space, beginning energy transition out of fossil fuel to the power of the Sun, harvested in space, relocating heavy industry into space, and building orbital space settlements anywhere in the Solar System. Our society would have become a much more advanced society. But, the Earth people could not see the need for space, and the fossil fuel people did not want to know about space. So we stayed on Earth, burning fossil fuel like there was and is no tomorrow. But, there was and is a tomorrow, and now the world knows that with atmospheric carbon dioxide (CO2) above 350 parts per million (ppm) we will get a planet temperature rise above 1.5C. James Hansen, who first warned the people of Earth about global warming in the 1988, in an effective way (there had been warnings about CO2 since the mid 1800s), later concluded that with CO2 in the air above 350 ppm, the temperature of the Earth would go beyond 1.5C above pre-industrial levels (Storms of My Grandchildren, 2009). The people of Earth have come to accept this equation (350ppm = 1.5C), but there is one giant and monster in the room. 350 ppm CO2 was a level sailed past in the 1980s. It is now bizarre to look back and see that the space people could have had solar power stations in space up and running in the 1980s. CO2 in the air is now going beyond 400 ppm, and rising at 2 ppm per annum. This is a huge tonnage of CO2. If 350 ppm CO2 in the air will raise the Earth's temperature by 1.5C (now going beyond 1C), how much will 400 ppm, or 410 ppm, or 450 ppm, or 500 ppm increase the Earth's temperature? It is not known how high the CO2 level will rise, but it is known that once CO2 is in the air, it can stay there for a century or more. As the Earth gets hotter, other greenhouse gases are being released, including methane, which is a far more powerful greenhouse gas. Methane is now being released from fast melting Arctic permafrost, and there are humongous volumes of methane hydrates (a form of ice high in methane that can burn as it melts) on the ocean floor. Much of the heat generated by CO2 in the air so far, as been sucked into the oceans, and the oceans are getting hotter, at depth. Should hotter ocean water reach the methane hydrates, will methane be released from these beds? This release of methane into the air is feared. Further CO2 will also be released with fires predicted to get fiercer as the world warms, and such fires have been seen in California and Queensland, even burning into the rainforest, which are supposed to be fire resistant. A couple of years ago 700 kilometres of mangroves died a couple of years ago across northern Australia due to heat. The Great Barrier Reef has had two major bleaching events in the past couple of years, with a third predicted in coming months, due to ocean heat waves. Conditions are now seen to be too similar to the first great extinction event on Earth 252 million years ago, called the Great Dying, when most of life on Earth perished, with hot dead oceans releasing toxic hydrogen sulphide gas, killing more life on land and damaging the ozone layer, which then allowed higher levels of solar and cosmic radiation to the ground, killing more life on Earth. Part of our strife now, is that CO2 is rising faster than happened in the past, which destabilises the Earth system. When James Lovelock examined the carbon problem, he concluded that the Earth could make a sudden shift to a permanently hotter state, one that would be hostile to humankind (The Vanishing Face of Gaia: A Final Warning, 2009). Since working on ways to detect life on Mars with the 1970s Viking mission, Lovelock had been aware that the Sun was getting hotter, slowly but surely. The Sun is now 35% hotter than at its birth 4.5 billion years ago, and has so much fuel in reserve, it will burn fiercely over the next 5 billion years, until expanding to the orbit of the Earth as a red giant star (this is basic astronomy for a star like our Sun). The Earth system has been able to keep the planet's temperature relatively even, in part by sequestering carbon into the Earth. With the carbon level on Earth now destabilised, and pressure being applied to the Earth system by rising heat due to rising levels of CO2 in the air, the balance could quickly shift to a hotter world, as warned of by Lovelock. When environmental scientist Guy McPherson considered the carbon problem, he concluded that there can be a sudden rise in heat within this decade, resulting in an extinction level event, and the high probability of no humans left on this hotter planet. A second warning from the stars predates the Earthrise photo. Cosmologists concluded that there are so many stars in our Milky Way galaxy, that as many as 30,000 alien civilisations could have found their way to the Solar System by now. But, we look out and see no sign or hear any sound of intelligent life among the stars. Many theories have been proposed to explain this eerie silence. When David Wallace-Wells was interviewing climate scientists for his long 2017 article, An Uninhabitable Earth, he found them speculating about the Great Filter theory, which suggests that an event in the progress of a planet civilization brings about their extinction before they can gain the liberty of the stars. Once a sustainable presence in space is secured, and with direct access to the power of their star, any planet civilization would then be able to spread out across the galaxy, and on to other galaxies. The only event that could end all planet civilizations at the same stage in their progress, could be the burning of too much fossil fuel for too long, leading to a rapid rise in heat, just as we are now warned is about to happen on Earth. If a Great Filter event were going to happen on Earth, this would need to be in our very near future, as we are now close to gaining a survival presence beyond Earth. As the upper safe level of CO2 in the air was left behind in the 1980s, there is enough CO2 and other greenhouse gases in the air and rising, to send temperatures skyrocketing. We can hope that doesn't happen, and wait to see what does happen, or we can invest in cosmic survival insurance. If we apply the precautionary principle and make a dash for space, this action can include: building solar power stations in space and beaming the energy to Earth to extract excess carbon from the air; with industry in space, construct an adjustable sunshade above the Earth, to help cool the planet as excess CO2 is being extracted from the air; relocate heavy industry into space; begin constructing orbital space settlements to further improve our survival options; and use the power of the Sun to deal with all problems on Earth, such as building robots in space factories that can be sent to Earth to clean plastic trash from the oceans. If wondering about the cost of space: in basic terms, once there is a sustainable industrial presence beyond Earth, there will be no further cost to Earth, and were will be in position to expand among the stars, spreading the life of Earth among the galaxies, just as life has filled the Earth. We need to mobilise within the year with a ten-year plan to secure our survival in space. This planet is steadily becoming a death trap. Once secure in space, we can begin work on winning back a safe Earth. We can also look toward transforming Venus into a second Earth, which would be far better than allowing the Earth to become a second Venus, with a heat that makes the rocks glow and can melt lead. With the power of the Sun, anything is possible. If we wait on Earth, we may not have to wait too long to see what happens. The heat is rising, and may simply leap beyond our ability to cope, or survive. We can add to the silence of the stars, or we can celebrate life among the galaxies. What will we do?

We can but look back now and imagine what would have happened, if the Earth people had awakened to the need to reach to the Sun, and run with Nature in the evolution of life among the stars. If the Earth people had joined forces with the space people in the 1970s, they could both have together said "Yes!" to space, and ""Yes!" to a safe Earth, rather than allow the fossil fuel people to lock humans down on Earth and place our survival at risk. It is late in the day, but while there is life, it is never too late. If the Earth people will now join forces with the space people, they can both reach to the Sun, and the fossil fuel people will see that they have been deadly wrong, and turn to run with life in space. All the denizens of Earth can be invited to help reach to the Sun, to save the life of Earth, and secure our survival. That we can do?


Posts: 139
Reply with quote  #25 


A postcard arrived for Christmas
sent a hundred years ago
one of those strange delays that happens
amazing it should show

Sender was away in the Sun
of a European war
and was heading home soon
to find this door

But the old lady who lived here
waited for one who never came home
and now the mystery is solved
in a very short tome

"I'm off to California
to hunt me some gold
and then sail the Pacific
with a couple of chums of old."

So that's where the blighter went to
and there was the name
the same as a fella in Papua
who married a local dame

Never made it all the way home
maybe wanted to vanish away
went native in the islands
let a new life hold sway

Where the singing of the tribe
would be better than church hymns
where the crashing of the waves
would wash away those sins

Of war in the trenches of France
where men were driven mad
by gas and bombs and bullets
in an evil so vile, so bad

A new life under the tropical sun
could heal a shredded soul
and tame the inner demons
to make a spirit whole

Songs in the rhythm of heat and dance
humming with birds of paradise
strolls in speckled shadows
canoes in the bay at sunrise


NOTE ~   Visit the museum in Bremen, Germany, and find that it is packed with artefacts from New Guinea, from the time that Germany had a colony there. When war broke out in Europe in 1914, Australia also declared war on Germany, invading the German colony in north-east New Guinea, and ending the supply of Papuan artefacts for German museums. An Australian returning from that horrendous war experience in Europe, may well have found solace in tropical New Guinea, and simply let the past go, to live in a dream. As years flowed by, the dream became real, and the past was blocked out by the nightmare of a war. The past may have become a strange dream, as the dreaming sun became life. And the postcard took its time, maybe stuck down the back of a shelf in a Post Office, then found, then delivered. You read can of mail delayed like that, for decades.


Posts: 139
Reply with quote  #26 

Mad as Mad

Dad went mad
found naked on the wood
holding an axe
wasn't good

All the chooks were beheaded
one still running around
nowhere fast
the cat was never found

The dogs had been hit by a car
both dead
waiting to be buried
"Would you like to be fed?"

Aunt Matilda thought that'd work
get the bugger down
but Dad was busy swearing
news had reached town

A siren could be heard
there may be no happy ending
the neighbours dog was barking
people were staring

Then Dad snapped out of it
went in for tea with gran
never happened again
just mad as mad

NOTE ~   I had this idea hanging around for decades, and wondered if it might become a painting. Then later, I came across the photo that matched the idea, and added the axe. We had an open fire as a child, and there was always wood coming into the yard, and wood needed splitting. Splitting machines are as common as prickles now, but not back then. So the axe was there by the chopping block, next to the chook run, where chooks werealso beheaded for meals, and I remember the headless chook running around the yard. There is the story of one chook that was beheaded, and didn’t die, was fed with an eyedropper, and taken around country shows, until it did die. I had a dog as a child, called Buster. I loved that dog real bad. I went to the shop, and he wanted to come, but was left in the yard. Buster jumped the 6ft paling fence and cuaght up with me. We went to the shop. I told him to stay outside, when I went in, but he chased another dog across the road. Both were hit by a car. I touched Buster, and he bit me. He was hurting. Buster died. I was sadder afterwards than I had ever felt. Mad things happen. Some people go off the rails. Some come right again. Sometimes there is mad as mad. Sometimes it all comes good, before anything too mad or bad happens.


Posts: 139
Reply with quote  #27 

Magic Honey Pot

Edward Bear was extra puzzled
staring bewildered at that special pot
it had been rather full of bee juice
but was now quite a honey-free spot

"Was there a hole in the pot?"
Edward wondered, checking it's bot
but nothing had run out of it, so .....
where's all that honey gone, the lot? 

Ed had heard of a magic vessel
that was always very full of honey
so he had a chat about this
with none other than his tummy

At the back of his cave was a map
a honey treasure marked with an "X"
just start here and go over there
to find a magic honey pot, sure bet

So off Ed set to find the treasure
of a honey pot that's never empty
Disty fairy came along for a fly
and help haul pot back, if too heavy

Fairy flew ahead to see what's up
as Edward ambled along with a song
pausing at flowers along the way
that seemed to have a honey pong

Then the bees began to gather
in a busy buzzing forest glade ahead
where buzzers were busy at work
around the hive of their honey bed

"That's a pot of never-ending honey!"
thought Ed at seeing the bee juice run
Just put me pot beneath the hive
for an endless supply of hon for tum

This magical honey pot would do
so bear picked it up to carry away
with a trail of bees buzzing along
the trail to his friendly forest cave

Hive was placed with special care
on an old tree stump outside his lair
now all he had to do each day
was step outside for some honey fair

To bed with Ted after his adventure
time to dream of endless golden honey
to make life happy to the brim
with golden bee juice in his tummy

In a boat he dreamed he sailed
to an island of honeycomb and bees
where bear was happier than happy
surrounded by the song of bees n zees





Posts: 139
Reply with quote  #28 


It was an accident
a trick of life
with blood like nitroglycerin
I wasn't looking for a fuse
let alone a match
but there it was
sizzling brightly 
burning in great anticipation
getting excited

You arrived so exotic
walking in
breasts bouncing
in rhythm
like a poem
couldn't help but see
you smiled
"Would you like a cappuccino?
Or a tea?"
You sat there with your pot brewing
Russian Caravan
bubbling away like a stream
where fish swim

My fuse was burning
getting shorter
sparkling too tight
Where were the firemen
with a bucket of ice?
How could I be cool
with you so hot?
I closed my eyes
The fuse hit
There were fireworks

"Are you alright?
Strange one." you asked
"Will I see you tonight?"
And you were gone
as if a dream
had swum through the night
and I woke up
fumbling for my sketch pad
to draw the memory
of you

Could I stand that again?
Gripped like a pack of
tight springs
with a fuse sizzling
heart pounding

I went to the mountains
to the cold
to be cool
to freeze
in the snow
the icy water
the chilling wind
but nothing would put out that fuse
and I will see you


NOTE ~   A new years' poem, mayhap, with elements of life tucked in. You can call the cafe ~ Chequers ~ in Hobart, which is the one I was thinking of. Long gone now. One day I was walking along in front of the Parliament House lawns and trees, when a woman was approaching, her breasts bouncing along merrily beneath her top. Hard not to notice, that ..... them. She smiled. Happy breasts. She had a baby in a pram. Such fleeting moments happen in life, shared reflections. I woman I once knew told me of a teenager she was meeting, visiting her home, who became excited in her presence, and came in his pants. There are times when the male biology has a mind of its own. As when asleep when a wet dream rises, and explodes, like fireworks. Women have their strife, with that time of the month, and such, but males can seem to live with a wild animal, a beast with a mind of its own. How to celebrate such????? How to tame the beast ..... like a ringmaster with a whip.

Bull elephants can find themselves in a bother …..



Posts: 139
Reply with quote  #29 

O Dear

Saturdee night came round like a wheel
when town folk met in the pub by the creek
sharing tales to liven the beer
and any good yarns from the previous week

A song would be sung like a Lava Town anthem
with laughter to boot and new verses invented
about a kerfuffle from many years past
that stuck in the memory quite clear and undented

"O dear, what can the matter be"
some would sing to a tune well-known
but in Lava Tree the words have a life unique
sprung from history like a thunderstorm blown

Then distracted by a glint in Uncle Toby's eye
it was time to start another distraction
in a trail of beer along the bar
snails would race in some slow move'n action

Each numbered with colours like very small jockies
in reverence the racers were placed in position
where an eyedropper would dispense a drop of gin
that was found to spur the field on with ambition

"Poor Aunt Martha was locked in the lavatory"
on occasion of a storm that blew through Lava Tree
uprooting a gum across the entrance of the outhouse
set in a large hollow tree and she couldn't get free

The snails were off at a hectic slow pace
Red Cruncher in the lead as the clock ticked around
followed by Green Slick enticed by more potent gin
and Yellow Razor trailed the field as if nowhere bound

"She was there from Sundee to Saturdee"
due to a total misunderstanding by one and all
everyone believed that old Aunt Maple was in town
and no one went to check or heard her call

Orange Squeezer would not be left behind
and someone muttered it was rum this time
so the eyedropper was tested as if for a drug
but bartender Maddock declared it was fine

"What can the matter be"
Aunt Martha's fate could have become a tragedy stark
but for the snails that lived around the outhouse
providing tucker for a week of days and dark

It would be another long night at the snail race
as Lava Tree folk shared yarns of horse and mouse
not to mention Aunt Martha's week long marathon
surviving on snails coming into the outhouse

And when finally found and released from the bog
the politest words that were heard that could be state'n
"Where the hell have you lot of useless buggers been?"
inspire'n a town song and a strange tradition of snail race'n

Back at the bar it would be another reason to sing
"O dear what can the matter be?"
as snails were distracted by the birds and the bees
and no gin or rum could unknot that slimy revelree




Posts: 139
Reply with quote  #30 


Waves crack onto the beach like a whip
where no wind blows in the frozen night
with a golden Moon rising over hills
reflecting black water in shadowed light 

A dinghy glides in with splash of oars
a distant sliding onto sand
waves crash against wood
see dark silhouettes of a band

Concern begins to rise within
my old friend told me this would come
I did not understand the meaning
but could now feel that time was a drum

I begin to run toward the house
heart pounding where branches slap
I stumble, I fall, then run on harder
but the house is empty, like a trap

Running again to the empty beach
across the cold sand to see a ship
standing in the freezing black sea
another wave cracks like a whip

Sails raised in shimmering moonlight
my old friend is sailing away
to another place and another time
across the sea through ocean spray

Sad, and happy, I stumble back
over sand in the silent night
to be by the dying fire, the glowing coals
his empty glasses glimmering in fire's light

The book left open and only half read
with a story to go on in life
of a cart-load of memories
giving comfort when there is strife

The house crumbles where trees grow
the waves arrive upon the beach
comforting as they crash in the night
and echo beneath the Moon's high reach

Surrounded by hills and clouds around
surrounded by time and days and night
surrounded by tears and laughter
surrounded by memories of a good life

Bounding on through day and night
bounding on to what life brings
bounding on with imagination
bounding on with laughter that sings

Hammering ideas to be new forms
hammering visions to be bright
hammering knowledge to be wise
hammering wisdom to take flight 

Until some moonlit night
when waves crack like a whip
a dinghy comes across the bay
fetching a passenger for their ship

I can but hope that a few good words
will be remembered from my time
beyond the fickle tempests of this life
beyond the circle of my rhyme


NOTE ~   The first four lines of this poem hung forever, as if executed from any body of a poem by the French guillotine. The muse was in total silence, until a story began to spring lyrically, giving the first verse the body of a tome. There is simply no predicting what will spring from the well of memories, like some cat in the night. Just when ya thought my old friend would live forever, there was ash and smoke. I still have his old teapot, good for two cups, battered .....

My old friend, Bark .....


The dairy next to Bark's house .....

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