Rhyme and Reason: Why give the taxman more money?

 

Storm clouds gather around this sky scraper

why must every day feel like a battle

all we’re asking – is look at the papers

there is more to it than just tattle.

 

Have you dreamt of sailing around the world?

Or buying a cottage out on the bay?

Or creating as your golden years twirled?

Living out your life – free- day to day?

 

Monkey Man would have you chained to your desk

trapped and imprisoned in the daily grind

ol’ weary travellers will have no rest

till they reach fifty years – having served time.

 

Why give all your money to the taxman?

Wealthy – he’s like the mouse that got the cheese.

Why wait till later? Why not make a plan?

Earn some money now not lose it on fees.

 

Monkey man is not going to help you

he’ll have you work till your six feet under

So pull it together, let it accrue

it is your future; not that Mans plunder.

 

***

Prompt: Pooky’s Poetry Prompt 19 – Rhyme and Reason 

 

St. Kilda Pier

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Pausing above the breakwater

on the edge of St. Kilda Pier

capture a father and daughter

tangled in photography gear.

Her pink scarf dances in the breeze

as her world falls behind the trees.

In the shadows with bells and chimes

she stops being guarded by time.

Enchanted by the soft whistles

emerging from the creaking boats.

Posts, etched in sailors initials

tells the stories of life afloat.

Raptures of little blue penguins

Modeling for their human friends

nestle themselves in the deep rocks

quiet and safe along the docks.

Farewell, Postman Pat

It’s time to hang your hat, sir.
Your work has come to an end.

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Harry S Alford My Grandfather the Postman

I’ll miss the hand waves and the bells
of a much beloved friend.
Seeing you early each morning
counting out the coloured cards
placing them through each letterbox
with a smile, wink and kind regards.
Rain or shine, you were always there
the glue that held the villages
together with paper and ink
and postcards of flowery bridges.
But, the wheels of time push progress
and you have been found wanting.
Time, she has made you redundant
and so Death has begun knocking.
It’s time to hang up your hat, sir.
Your work has come to an end.
We’ll remember you in our scrapbooks
and label you, a long lost friend.
 
Poem was inspired by an article in The Age: Are you ready to abandon snail mail
 

Confusing Figure of Speech, Fair Dinkum!

 

Twas Winter in Melbournia

students rugged up in coats and scarves

sipping on lattes and mochas

sitting where the benches were carved.

Huddled in a tiny horse-shoe

telling tales of the lost weekend

I listened carefully; laughed on cue

an outcast amongst Aussie friends.

A tale of breakdowns on bridges

and how we’d walked 5k’s to town

along the highway, fighting the midges

drowning as the rain raced down.

“Wow, Fair Dinkum, girls!”, Al exclaimed.

I just smiled; and nodded; coughed “Yeah…”

Being new to this Aussie game

Oh, how I felt like a silly mare!

I looked at Al all befuddled

and he told me the whole story.

What he’d heard had him bubbled

and he wanted truth in our glory.

Fair Dinkum.

 

Inspired by Pooky’s Poems: Confusing Figure of Speech

#NaPoWriMo Day TwentySix – SummerTime

Although, technically it’s Autumn here Summer did revisit us for ANZAC Day. I wrote this whilst sitting along the banks of the Yarra River. Louis Armstrong & Ella Fitzgerald do a great cover of this song – SummerTime.

 

 

“Summer time… and the livin’ is easy… fish are jumpin’… and the cotton is high…”

 

the saxophonists notes follow her along the river

as she looks down on the black swans floating

from the steps of a faux Parisian cafe

on a beautiful faux summer day.

 

“… Oh, your daddy’s rich… and your mamma’s good lookin’… so hush, little baby… don’t you cry…”

 

a little girl reaches and clasps her grandfather’s hand

his medals glistening in the sun; a weary veteran

nods slowly and carefully to the whispers in his ears

comfortably surrounded by his future.

 

“… One of these mornings… you’re going to rise up singing… then you’ll spread your wings… and take to the sky…”

 

the banks of the river burst with soul

a young student girl charms us with an upturned wok

a young veteran strums his aged guitar

while a young  flautist hums her way into the urban orchestra.

 

“… But until that morning… there’s nothing can harm you… with your daddy and mummy standing by…”

 

on the grass a group of primary children

create chalk drawings of sunshine

and city views – they love their country

sparkling pride in their young little eyes.

 

“… Summertime… and the livin’ is easy…”

 

 

#NaPoWriMo Day TwentyThree – “Talking Brunswick Street”

Inspired by http://www.napowrimo.net prompt:  ‘New York School’ poems.  I don’t think it’s finished. But is a poem ever really finished…

 

It’s 8am on Tuesday and I am on the tram

you could say: it’s just Monday 2.0

so naturally I’m late and it’s raining – damn!

Is it sunny over there? I bet it is, laughing at me

I bet you’ve been doing a rain dance secretly.

It’s against the law to make it rain here, seriously!

Oh, I’m just crouched on the cold metal steps

looking out on a washed out Brunswick Street

it’s moving ever so slowly! Mmm… I can smell the coffee and crepes!

I can see Fitzroy-ans dancing through trams and cars

in a sea of boots, poncho’s and umbrellas

in a long narrow valley of cafes, shops and bars.

Lights are flickering in the old comic book store

Oh Marty, ‘Back to the Future’ is now

your movie is so old it predates Persy’s next door.

Posters and banners flapping in chilly wind

will we ever escape the daggy dolls we were yesterday

when fun was getting off our faces and succumbing to sins.

Don’t stop the music and oh, just dance

the numb blur of college life, I don’t remember

except when we dreamt of moving to the south of France.

But 2014, oh, a communication revolution

look at us talking wirelessly from either side of the world

Can you hear me? Wait, can you see me? Technological evolution.

Mr Asmiov hit the metaphorical nail on the head:

“humanity will go into hibernation” – indeed

it’s true what the 1960’s sci-fi guy predicted.

Speaking of, did you know it’s illegal to trade with pirates

here, so if we upload, download and freeload

aren’t we essentially criminals – just open-closet-pirates.

Think about it – I’ll peruse my books

while washed out Brunswick Street starts its day

in one of Melbourne’s much loved coffee nooks.

#NaPoWriMo14 Day Three “Here and Now”

Laneway music; apple ciders

Asian street food; Pancake Parlour

Queen Vic Market; Pot n Parma’s

Moonlight movies; Cocktail Spiders.

 

This is where my story is set

my first love; i’ll never forget

but, this is where my heart calls home

this place, somewhere over the foam.

 

Authors Note:

I recently discovered these guys on YouTube and as I was walking through the city on my way to work ‘Be Okay’ was blaring through my little white ear plugs and I thought: I love this city but more importantly I love the life I have here… thus my inspiration for Day 3 challenge.