8C Poetry exploration I hope I will Laugh more than I cry Feel light and never heavy with worry Enjoy the company of those I love Be more loved than love I hope I will Travel to the most exotic places on earth See the Gorillas in the Mist Walk across the ancient sites of the Middle East Speak to Egyptologists I will remember you I will remember you A man of few words A man of poise, of patience, of pride, Of puzzles. With kind eyes, Dry humour, Quick hands, Clever wit. I will remember you Stooped in the strawberry patch I will remember you Positioned at the billiards table And you will remain. Kneeling on the green. In the children you raised In the grandchildren you loved In the family you built We will remember you. A Martian Sends a Postcard Home (1979)It has the property of making colours darker. Craig Raine deliberately, by tickling with a finger. Model T is a room with the lock inside – Only the young are allowed to suffer a key is turned to free the world openly. Adults go to a punishment room for movement, so quick there is a film with water but nothing to eat. Oxford English Dictionary (OED) Links Off Caxtons are mechanical birds with many wings and some are treasured for their markings – they cause the eyes to melt or the body to shriek without pain. to watch for anything missed. But time is tied to the wrist I have never seen one fly, but or kept in a box, ticking with impatience. sometimes they perch on the hand. In homes, a haunted apparatus sleeps, They lock the door and suffer the noises alone. No one is exempt and everyone’s pain has a different smell. At night, when all the colours die, Mist is when the sky is tired of flight and rests its soft machine on ground: that snores when you pick it up. they hide in pairs If the ghost cries, they carry it and read about themselves – then the world is dim and bookish to their lips and soothe it to sleep in colour, with their eyelids shut. like engravings under tissue paper. with sounds. And yet, they wake it up Rain is when the earth is television. When people ask me where I’m from My Australia is I tell them Punchbowl. Walking through the streets of Punchbowl More often than not they smile and reply with the smell of freshly roasted Lebanese coffee No, where are you from? kissing the Asian bakeries good morning I sigh, roll my eyes and in an explanatory tone say: Punchbowl? You know, it’s near Bankstown? The city where mouths do not ebb the flow of Welcome The eucalyptus towers overhead and the frangipanis scent my breath as we sing the unofficial National Anthem “I come from a land down under” Living from beat to beat, bumping down the streets with Tupac on our tongues In over 60 different tongues and we’re headed for the beach. Where over 100 nationalities are housed under one postcode. Water, This is my ode to the only place I know so unapologetically salty to the eyes but we Where no one is told to go back; take it in our stride Because everyone understands Remembering all the lessons at Greenacre pool and at school, This is my ode to home when Cronulla hit high tide. THE TEARLESS LAND by Tracey Harrison I suppose everybody cries sometimes Little boys cry when they are spanked Little girls cry when they are disappointed Even mothers and fathers cry now and then But some day no-one will ever cry again There is a tearless land where nobody cries Everyone will be supremely happy Sweet smiles and joyous laughter forever Nothing dims their lives through the eternal years.
