What would winter be without the promise of the summer we hold within? Ah, but with a mere spin of the globe before us . . . LOOK! . . . We're There, and the ease of the blue-winged kookaburra laughs along with our innate trickles of joy . . .
Summer in the Bush
~ by Malcome Allen
A dingo circles the homestead,
by the side of the cattle yard
as summer dusk rapidly approaches . . .
While my old overhead fan -
actively circulates tired air
and terrorises the mosquitoes . . .
Since it's so humid at night
and the kookaburras cry,
as the enthusiastic tourists,
energise their flashlights . . . .
as summer dusk rapidly approaches . . .
While my old overhead fan -
actively circulates tired air
and terrorises the mosquitoes . . .
Since it's so humid at night
and the kookaburras cry,
as the enthusiastic tourists,
energise their flashlights . . . .
The Mosquito's Song
~ by Malcome Allen
The Mosquito's song, fills the
room with clapping hands,
but . . . still drinking, after
the glass is drained -
The glass half full or
the glass half empty?
It's much too hot, to
wear a watch tonight -
While just you and me
are awake all night - as
a bullfrog sings its
lonely lullaby . . .
room with clapping hands,
but . . . still drinking, after
the glass is drained -
The glass half full or
the glass half empty?
It's much too hot, to
wear a watch tonight -
While just you and me
are awake all night - as
a bullfrog sings its
lonely lullaby . . .
(c) 2009 by Malcome Allen
Mal? What do you say about the non-lonely charm, charm, charm of this beloved Aussie to OH so many? That when he claims, "Ah, you're a diamond in the rough", you sense you're looking right into the sheen of the glean of all which he really means . . . in open, stalwart kindness and that hand which reaches right in and pulls you up close and you know that laugh and that his eyes twinkle and that . . . whooooops, Mal has that effect on you, doesn't he, Ladies?
This lanky hunk o'humanity is gorgeous in spirit ~ a university professor who rises to the voice within, (and follows it) . . . writing poetry and short stories and reading, reading, reading all which the fellow scribes he treasures around him, turn and amply churn out. Quite simply though, I'm always touched that Mal's the kinda Melbourne man who sees a long distance walk before him and follows it ~ just because there could be a sunrise or sunset at its end. There, he'll sit for hours and he'll look and ponder and breathe it in (til later he writes it out), because, in Mal's simple-for-pleasure words, "They are so beautiful . . . "
Graced we are that you're such a part of AT THE BIJOU and writers' pennings, dear Mal. Thank you for these poetic musings from your prolific share.
~ Absolutely*Kate
and the fine, fine staff of renown, AT THE BIJOU
and the fine, fine staff of renown, AT THE BIJOU
8 comments:
Beautiful, Malcolme. Your words painted an Aussie summer song in my mind.
Summer down under seems to have at least one small thing in common with summer in Florida, the skeeter! Especially loved this line:"The Mosquito's song, fills the
room with clapping hands" Nice work Mal!
Mal, great snapshot of our summer days. Enjoyed it immensely!!!
You took me there with so few words. Thank you for your gift.
I loved these two light hearted poems. I too loved the line The Mosquito's song, fills the
room with clapping hands. I'll try to respect the little critters now.
smooth work.
Great poems, Mal. It's been so long since I've read you! I've always been impressed with your poetry and these do not disappoint. Keep up the good work! Happy New years!
Many thanks to all my loverly friends for their great comments down at the Bijou , cheers , Mal.
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