RIP CLIVE JAMES

Shadorma

goodbye clive
who loved italian
opera
rest in peace
the poet from kogarah
made us laugh often

tango champ
spoke eight languages
translated
il dante
into poetic verses
a renaissance man






loved telly
high and low culture
loved sydney
miss piggy
his humour was common sense
dancing in sunlight


One of his recently published poems, Japanese Maple, is about a tree given to him by his daughter. In this deeply poignant poem, James delights in the tree's soft presence in the back garden of his Cambridge home, while challenging himself to live until autumn in order to see its leaves "turn to flame".

Japanese Maple 

Clive James born October 7th 1939 - died November 24th  2019

Your death, near now, is of an easy sort.
So slow a fading out brings no real pain.
Breath growing short
Is just uncomfortable. You feel the drain
Of energy, but thought and sight remain:

Enhanced, in fact. When did you ever see
So much sweet beauty as when fine rain falls
On that small tree
And saturates your brick back garden walls,
So many Amber Rooms and mirror halls?

Ever more lavish as the dusk descends
This glistening illuminates the air.
It never ends.
Whenever the rain comes it will be there,
Beyond my time, but now I take my share.

My daughter’s choice, the maple tree is new.
Come autumn and its leaves will turn to flame.
What I must do
Is live to see that. That will end the game
For me, though life continues all the same:

Filling the double doors to bathe my eyes,
A final flood of colours will live on
As my mind dies,
Burned by my vision of a world that shone
So brightly at the last, and then was gone.

‘Japanese Maple’ appears in Clive James’s collection, Sentenced to Life.

Shadorma

 TIME

am longing
for a little time
added on
to the day
twenty four hours not enough
life  just too busy

time is short
to get all things done
it flies by
too quickly
then comes the knock at the door
we all must answer

tis always
an unexpected
big surprise
so who knows
what lies ahead of us at
any given time





Midweek Motif Poets United

Thank You

lovely ladies
in the netherlands
a sewing group
making mittens
for the koalas
so many
with burnt paws

Blue

The wedding tradition is said to bring good luck.“something borrowed, something blue” dates back to Queen Elizabeth 1 era. It is often quoted with the last line missing, 

something old
something new
something borrowed
something blue
a silver sixpence in her shoe 










the dress was old
the veil was new
the earrings  borrowed
bouquet was blue
she never knew about the sixpence
alas the inevitable happened
and who knows
it might have made the difference

Average marriage length

In 2017, the average length of an Australian marriage that ended in divorce was 12.0 years, according to the Australian Bureau of Statistics (ABS) [4]. This figure has increased steadily since 1993, when the average marriage length was 10.7 years .
Further, the average marriage length to separation in Australia is 8.3 years, meaning there is a disparity between when couples separate and when they actually divorce [4].

For The Weekend

Woman Rescues Burnt Koala From Australian Bushfire

Awakening


awakening 
to the plight of our little bears
good people try
to save them
literally giving the shirt
off their backs

the koala hospital
manned by many volunteers
does its best

thousands are destroyed
in the bush fires
some deliberately lit

we walk alongside
dangerous destructive folk
not all of them look evil
but  i've noticed lately
a lot do

*shudder *



Midweek Motif -  Poets United

Poetic Gem For The Weekend

THERE ARE MEN TOO GENTLE TO LIVE AMONG WOLVES



There are men too gentle to live among wolves

Who prey upon them with IBM eyes

And sell their hearts and guts for martinis at noon.

 There are men too gentle for a savage world

Who dream instead of snow and children and Halloween




There are men too gentle to live among wolves

Who anoint them for burial with greedy claws

And murder them for a merchant’s profit and gain.

There are men too gentle for a corporate world

Who dream instead of candied apples and ferris wheels

And pause to hear the distant whistle of a train.



There are men too gentle to live among wolves

Who devour them with eager appetite and search

For other men to prey upon and suck their childhood dry.

There are men too gentle for an accountant’s world

Who dream instead of Easter eggs and fragrant grass

And search for beauty in the mystery of the sky


.
There are men too gentle to live among wolves

Who toss them like a lost and wounded dove

Such gentle men are lonely in a merchant’s world,

Unless they have a gentle one to love.


– James Kavanaugh




where are they?
hiding i suspect
from accountants
from corporate conglomerates
from cougars with long lacquered red claws
from  the powerful mega rich  in  porsches

sometimes they peep out
from underneath their rocks
and find a night sky to wonder at

the lucky ones find
a gentle one to love
the other lucky ones
find books and write poems

Perspective

dangerous
is the warrior type
who boasts no fear
never sheds a tear
advances with ruthless strength
decimating all obstacles
with sheer determination
slash and burn
to achieve the goal

in admiration
we call it strength
in reality
i call it brutal





jungle law
has its draw backs
everyone needs to sleep
with one eye open


Imaginary Garden With Real Toads

Winter

Cinquain

winter
best viewed on a
large flat screen tv set
sipping cool drinks and wearing a
sarong

Shadorma







cough and sneeze
fog on church windows
hymns and prayers
organ fugue
the vicar drones on and on
sunday in winter

Haiku 

the winter of life
sometimes arrives unexpectedly
always a surprise




Tanka

a warm smile
can thaw winter icicles
in a frozen heart
sadly little warmth or kindness
exists in this cold hard world


Midweek Motif - Poets United





 
 

My Country (I Love a Sunburnt Country) [lyrics] For The Weekend

Claudio Bravo


Sunburnt Country


hanging out with friends
after a hard day's yakka
her favourite thing

rain drops without roses
would be appreciated
it's drier than a dead dingo's donger

french washes and baths
measured in ice cream containers
oh the joy of country life

the wide brown land
is getting burnt to a crisp
and it's not yet summer







for  all those in nsw
whose dreams are going up in flames
stay strong - rain will come

Authenticity

scammmers know no bounds
everyone is a target
modern day corruption







forgers are clever
it's hard to tell authentic
experts not as smart





it looks real
it's even got fake blood
it tastes like meat
but what pc advocates
will never accept
is
this is not
this will never be
a real burger






an authentic christian
he is not
like  many of his kind
he's lost the plot
nothing is sacred
to this ignorant clown
the statue  of liberty
is leaving town






Midweek Motif  - Poets United

Poetry Tuesday

OLD - 5 November

age history evolution geology childhood rust nostalgia wisdom
whichever direction you want to take it


to live a life
to survive
is in itself
an achievement



“If I had known I was going to live this long, I would have taken better care of myself.”
― Mae West


god in his wisdom
decides our expiry date
in spite of our best made plans

it might be an idea
to confront  mortality
sooner rather than later
but who has the time

growing old
is a privilege
each day a bonus

Sunday Muse # 80

pussy cat pussy cat
where have you been

i've been to london
to see the queen

pussy cat pussy cat
what did you there

i dropped some acid
without any care

and now i find myself askance
bedraggled disembodied unravelled
in france

i went and took  the wrong train  home
oh where oh where is my mobile phone 

alone in this  room with diddums the cat
who refuses point blank to sit on the mat

i wonder what will happen to me
i wish i'd said no thanks just tea

Alison Krauss - Baby Now That I've Found You

Late Night Thoughts







i thought i had found you
but it was just a flash
of fool's gold


unreal unworkable impossible
and
ever so magnetically appealing
so much so
that it became all consuming
every waking hour
finding you spreadeagled
across my mind


when i hear a song
like this one late at night
in the dark
in the quiet
by the glow of the fire
i sometimes wonder
what we would have been like
together


i can only think
we would have been
ecstatically happy
but these thoughts
were mine alone

so

with heavy heart
i sink into the cushions
fall asleep
awake to the sounds of the city
of garbage bins and trucks outside
jump starting the grind of the day
and never think about you again
(until the next time )


written with thanks
for the one
who made me feel special
for a little while