This is not a plateau

Skeleton School Madelaine Last

Skeleton School by Madelaine Last

This new normal is not a plateau

This new normal is not the new normal bro

The simple fact is temperatures continue to rise

The simple fact is there are no alibis

Even when an individual climate change denies

Even when the fatalists are saying their good byes

Even though so many choose to walk on by

We can do our best and the naysayer defy

Because there are indicators that clearly show

There may still be time to protect our home

Despite the hothouse building in our greenhouse dome

 

2016 was the world’s hottest year

because El Niño added to the sear

Many politicians made this their bluff

On behalf of lobbyists saying it’s one off

Then 2017 was almost just as hot

The third warmest year and El Niño not

How is the first half of 2018 I hear you ask?

How much reflected heat was there in which we basked?

It was the fourth warmest on the global tab

Again, no El Niño to be factored in the lab

 

Accelerating temperatures throughout the Industrial Age

Say greenhouse gas emissions cause climate change

Measures have been gauged stats have been paged

So many ordinary people are supremely enraged

 

Four straight years of temperature highs

Unseasonal fires, landslides, quickening dries

Ice caps melting at an ever-increasing pace

Ocean currents stalling changing weather’s ancient face

Sea temp differentials flatten there are water level highs

Since 1993 7.7 centimetres of seawater rise

And we’re still not ready damn our eyes

 

There is not one government that does enough

Where conservatives dominate, we are really stuffed

When we need collective accomplishment on the world stage

All they manage is the underachievement needed to end our age

When 17 of our hottest years since records were begun

Have been experienced by the planet since 2001

 

Fish are relocating due to warming waters

Resource wars are driving people across borders

Animals are struggling where small changes matter

Wildfire behaviour sees normal patterns scatter

Hard dry ground where crops should have been

Leave starving masses suffering sight unseen

 

In Sweden and El Salvador wheat and corn harvests dip

Four continents of heatwaves rock the state of the ship

Intense and longer storms, Flo’s protracted flooding rains

Deeper waters and drier droughts put more people in their graves

Nuclear plant shutdowns because river cooling water is too warm

Does any government or corporate body set off an alarm?

No, because they say we’re in the same safe boat

Despite some countries suffering in ways others do not

In Delhi people lie on the ground when record heat stops work after noon

Where there’s no techno cooling to ease every hotter summer’s swoon

Elsewhere electricity supply crashes due to air con demand

Dozens of heat related deaths occurred last summer in Japan

Basic system failures threaten water supply and food

Yet, all some do is argue, wring hands and do no good

 

2017 saw a carbon dioxide max for 800,000 years

But from Paris the US withdraws citing fake news fears

And the rich haven’t paid to help poor countries cope

As they promised in the accord to give some glimmer of hope

 

Global warming now moves faster than any models say

Are there global changes can be made to keep the worst at bay?

Like science harnessing knowledge to produce drought resistant crops

Or international government that can call on climate cops

Enforcing global policy solutions, a climate government pronounces

Or predicting global heat and rainfall for informed responses

 

We’re not talking about the risk to our grandchildren anymore

It’s the risk to today’s planet knocking at our door

Unless we lift ourselves from our decision-making funk

We’ll reduce the value of our world to the corporate status “junk”

 

Meanwhile, some people and Governments are acting somewhere out there

Funding research and renewables, reducing waste, doing their share

Protesters are demonstrating and actioning their care

Planting, recycling, whiting roofs, championing what is fair

But they can’t take on the weight of the world it’s just too much to bear

Will you help them, will you and you take on the dare?

Winter rain

winterrreign

With Winter’s reign

Comes winter rain …..

Heavy, Kamikaze, straight into the ground

A relentless, driving, ominous sound

Drumming incessantly on iron clad roof

Beating out rhythms of Winter’s truth

Pummeling every deciduous bough

Weighing branches to a seasonal low

Forcing autumn leaves to their final leap

Reminding trees it is time to sleep

Sean

 

 

 

Tarrawingee – Hagan’s poem

Tarrawingee

I came across this poem my son, Hagan, wrote some time ago. It is about overnight stays at his grandparent’s place in rural Victoria. It is quite lovely.

at night cars on the highway whisper distance

we are so far from anything

a collection of warm souls

glowing like an ember of the burnt out day

 

the cars breathe wordless thoughts

the sound of loneliness

is the sound of something passing

but we stay

 

grandma and grandpa asleep in the one room I have never explored

young famililes in the back room

single males or older siblings alongside

in a lounge room sealed with folding doors

 

every move a quiet one

from quiet good night to good morning

breakfast a thief’s meal

the day’s plans discussed in conspirator’s tones

 

the house so still

the closing of cupboards in the kitchen a rough sigh

the carpet in the hall soft and relaxed

becoming cool kitchen lino underfoot

 

and here’s Ruth, any Ruth

whispering hello with a laugh

as if she’s either not used to whispering

or she’s sorry for waking me

 

while Nutri-Grain sing their deliciousness into the bowl

the first in a day of pleasures rare and reliable

reminders of things I have always known

that I will belong somewhere, that I am happy

 

happy now, in a house warm and never stifling

allowing the comfortable movement

of elements between its walls:

air and light, peace and love, enough for all

Ashes

“We brought her ashes here.”

Someone could have said this

That someone could not have been me

Because I wasn’t there

Not in mind, not in spirit, not in body

I was absent on every level

In fact, I think I went to school

Did I really go to school?

For want of something better to do

That must have been weird for the teachers

Their dead colleague’s son returns to school

Instead of attending their dead colleague’s funeral

I wonder if it hurt? (Me? Them?)

I didn’t wonder at the time

I just didn’t want to go

Didn’t want to know

I saw the dead when death was done

No need to attend a funeral rerun

Clear and simple

That was the way I saw it

 

“We brought her ashes here because …..”

I can tell you I have no idea why

I wasn’t there I tell you

I wasn’t involved

Not in the slightest

Not for the sightfest

I guess it was because standards were everything

I guess it was convenience if anything

 

“We took her ashes elsewhere”

I mean

It would have made more sense don’t you think?

Well, with hindsight anyway

I wonder now where that elsewhere might have been?

I imagine there was a place somewhere distant to the mass ash repository

Somewhere that had more meaning?

To her

To Dad

To us

To me?

I wonder where that place might have been?

It bothers me that I have no idea about this

Instead of being encapsulated

Did she think about where her ashes might be cast?

She had time

So much time for dying

Was there time for thinking about this as well?

Thinking about the special places

The places that meant something

The places where her ashen cloud

Could manifest as transient shroud

One last act of giving

One finale to living

 

“Here lie her ashes”

I still don’t know where

I still don’t want to know

I haven’t been there

Don’t want to be shown

Wherever there is

And I won’t go

Because there is a neutral and meaningless place

At least, I don’t know what it means

Elsewhere might have been easier

Somewhere I could understand

Where she could still lend a hand

A place for her to show

Somewhere I might want to go

 

 

for eternity

Image

image

A poem for thine eyes to see
Words that speak of love for thee
A verse from where my head doth rest
Upon thy softly rising chest
A breath
A gentle tender plea
To bind our hearts eternally
To state our love is rich and rare
An intimacy that none can share
I’ll stay with you through eternal life
My friend my lover my eternal wife

The Death of Miss Richards

 

Unknown

Did you read A S Patric’s Black Rock White City? “The Death of Miss Richards” stands alone as a poem, but read the book to meet the character properly. Highly recommended.

Why did miss richards die

Jump in front of the train

Without learning to fly

She broke her wrists and her ankles

Before the Hallam train hit

For the briefest of moments

She hurt a bit

Although and however

She may have been hurting

Previously forever

 

Why didn’t miss richards cry

Let out her feelings

Sob, weep and sigh

 

Miss Richards always looked so content

Nose in a book

Mind being sent

Not a woman in pain

Not a lass to complain

Of a heart broken or rent

And she ate vegetarian food

For the soul

It looked good

It makes you wonder how should

What actually could

Make miss richards want to die

 

Miss Richards looked serene

Like one in a dream

Thoughtful and peaceful

Quiet as a mouse

I note she loved music

And the capacity to choose it

Her playlists sashay lists

Of walls without bridges

As we on the ridges

Played miss richards I spy

 

I never said hi miss richards

Nor hello now goodbye

So she sat by herself until lunchtime went by

Miss richards headphones and book

Ne’er one to sook

Ne’er a wet eye

As she kept to herself

Alone on her shelf

Self sufficient as one cloud in a blue blue sky

Oh why oh why

Did miss richards have to die

Hedge End Lane

Hedge End Lane

we took a walk down Hedgend Lane

squeezed it in ‘tween showers of rain

a short walk from the bogie road

walking to an end unknown

 

with us walking we took the whippet

keen as mustard leashed and at it

we set off into an icy grind

tempting fate against winter’s mind

 

the road was dirt puddles like scales

the wind was cold sharp as nails

the sky was grey and overcast

prophesising an arctic blast

 

we met two cockies one unwell

the other uted name of Neville

we chewed the fat for a moment or two

then nev went off to feed his ewes

 

he knew our house and seller’s name

said she fell victim to a scam

he asked about the other cock

down the road about a block

 

we said we saw its damaged wing

we couldn’t get close to do a thing

nev had been asked by his lovely wife

to mercy kill it take its life

 

as we waved farewell to nev and ute

we thought the man was quite astute

a life at bogie on a farm

a laconic style of rural charm

 

the next instalment was a procession of lambs

from biggest to smallest dashing for dams

such cute and playful snow white children

it’s quite a flock old nev’s a building

 

then we came to the farm homestead

work dogs wagging tethered to sheds

at the front gate there’s a dead bloated sheep

the one nev warned us about to go deep

 

onward we walked into more open space

where grazing occurs at a slow country pace

a hereford watched our brisk passage past

as it chewed on cud made of wet winter grass

 

at the end of the road there’s a pleasant surprise

a tableland drop off topped by glowering skies

the gap between hills is not very wide

but big enough to see down the hillside

 

it’s a break in the mountain to a view of great grace

we can see to the plains and expansive green space

to the base of the tableland looking down is a thrill

from our throne like position at the top of the hills

Summer meditation

At first it is the light you become aware of

The golden hue of a summer evening sun

The surreal enhancement of every vista

An enriching highlight to the end of the day

Take a deep breath

Sigh it out through an open mouth

Cleanse

Then the sounds reach into you

A rippling cascade of water

A wind gently rustling leaves

A magpie carolling

Find your position of comfort

Melt your body into the earth

Unwind

Your skin responds to the air around you

Its featherlight touch, gossamer weight

Soothing, reassuring, fresh and clean

Smooth your brow

Part your lips

Drop your shoulders

Let your hands and feet fall where they will

Relax

Close your eyes

Meditate

The world around you fades

You pacify it, clear your mind

Letting everything that was today go

Focus your mind’s eye between your eyebrows

Know your breathing

Breathe in

Breathe out

Breathe in

Breathe out

Float

Be

33 kinds of rain

The misting rain as light as being

The pitter patter rain of anticipation

The sun shower rain of joyfulness

The dawn lit rain of new awakenings

The driving rain of persistent harassment

The piercing rain of pain and hurt

The bleak rain of uncertainty

The saturating rain of grief

The pounding rain of anger

The cold rain of fear and loathing

The persistent rain of melancholy

The drought breaking rain of celebration

The tropical rain of surprise and relief

The tin roof rain of night time snuggles

The slanting rain of getting under your skin

The fat wet rain of things to come

The dull rain of misery

The easing rain of hope for a day

The sheeting rain of washing your sins away

The aerosol rain that never settles

The eddying rain of indefinite endings

The ominous rain of growing darkness

The thunder laden rain of shock and fear

The storm driven rain of nature’s authority

The drenching rain of no escape

The floating rain of disproportionate outcomes

The harrowing rain of oppression and spite

The lightning flash rain of vision burned

The unexpected rain of scrambling for shelter

The flooding rain of tears

The icy rain of an unknown future

The sleety rain of chilled to the bone

The sunlit rain of clarity of purpose

The dancing rain of swirling possibilities

The evening rain of contemplation

The elemental rain of fundamental outcomes

The cloaking rain of secrecy

The wispy rain of dissipation

The hard rain of death

The transparent rain of release

The soft rain of peace

Dark, black night, cold, white frost, warm, golden sunshine

The cold can bite you here. It is sharp and crisp and penetrating. In the dark of a cloudless, moonless, star bright landscape, in the nocturnal brilliance of  moonlit contrasts, in the shelter of a blackened room, it stabs through the bedclothes. It targets your knees or a hip, whichever joint is most elevated and least supplied with a warming blood supply. It ices your brain.

Then the morning comes. The frozen grass cracks under your feet. The birdbaths are glazed and crazed and the world is a wonderland of white light, of reflective crystals. It’s all worth it.

Then comes the sun. Gently rising over the tree lined eastern horizon, shafts start breaking through the cold barrier in scattered beams of raw illumination. Light sprays jump from each hoary crystal bed they touch. But just as quickly, just as they commence their flashy dance, they are replaced by translucent droplets, silvery and clear, mirroring the world around them in fresh formed globules like polished convex glass.

Then the rich, thermal bath of undiluted yellow sunshine begins. It bathes our world in a warming golden glow, washing from our memory the cold that was snapping at our heels such a short time ago. We revel in it. We revere it. We relish the transition from the sharp edged winter’s night to the slow, melting, immersive onset of another glorious North East Victorian winter’s day.