Reblogged from Strathbogie Ranges Nature View, another walk worth a look..
Another glorious Victorian walk.
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in the doghouse
Woof!
I strongly urge you to reconsider
your decision to withhold my dinner
for it was only a minor crime
that should not leave me food less for a time
this situation is certainly partly your fault
for exposing your best shoes to assault
by discarding them carelessly inside the front door
such that my resistance steadily weakened wherefore
the attraction of soft chewy elastic leather
proved as irresistible as a day of sunny weather
when chewing shoes in vestibule halls
equates to the joy of parkside chasing of balls
and you must admit my masticating those tasty treats
is not the equivalent of nutritious and tasty meat
so spare a thought for an act ne’er again to be mentioned
please, your dismay was never my intention
I strongly exhort you to review my sentence
in return I’ll offer a cute and remorseful look
of ne’er again pretence
Strathbogie Ranges Nature View (SRNV)
SRNV is a nature blog I have neglected my co-authorship of in recent years. This has been due to work and family commitments taking me to other parts of this wonderful state of Victoria. In the meantime, Bert has continued his informative presentation and celebration of our region. Now I am spending more time back in Central and North East Victoria I am well and truly ready to join him again. I will reblog here to poetography.ink for my occasional reader’s interest.
deep dark blue
The water is still a deep deep blue
giant distant mountains are blue too
there’s a pretty wooden jetty
for me to sit on with you
in your light cotton dress
broad bands of blue
the sky is picture perfect blue
there’s an old rowing boat
tied up too
it’s blue
your eyes are blazing iridescent blue
when I gaze into them
I’m suddenly drowning
cyanosed lips bruised blue
blue finger tips
touching you
cold with the bleak blue fear
of no longer having you near
you knew
a chill wind blew an
icicle dart
straight through my heart
pumping vital red to sluggish dying blue
the world around me turns dread blue
I feel it mind and body through
like a heaviness I can’t escape
a smothering blue oppressive weight
on this warm picture perfect blue
summer’s day
sitting beside you
deep dark blue and frozen to a jetty pretty
above turbulent water dark deep blue
I discover your love is no longer true
Loss grief relief and gain
My name is loss
I come to you
when all you have had
is crumbling
when all you have given
is riven with me
loss is humbling
my name is grief
and I bear the pain of loss
when you are humbled
beyond belief
when you thought
you would be always
proud and strong
I am here to tell you
that you were wrong
my name is relief
when comes a day
you realise that grief will eventually
deliver a clearway
a freedom from regret
at losing what you had gained
losses your mind held and retained
these burdens your cross
until you find you can accept loss
my name is acceptance
where past material possessions
and anxieties prove hollow
where a hopeful path
is a worthy path to follow
where reflective plans
present themselves
as many possible futures
where eventual understanding
of loss the future nurtures
and our transient presence can
still be an enriching presence
a new time we have in which to live
to love enjoy feel
touch smell hear see and give
pain
A little pain alerts me to a risk unto my life
a larger pain unnerves me causing misery and strife
a debilitating pain is unnecessary by any worth or measure
I wish such pain revised to a commensurate pleasure
why severe pain exists at all is a mystery to me
none can understand or explain
its crippling purpose satisfactorily
the great joy of childbirth is excessively marred for the mother
oft the exhausting process of dying is complicated by many ways to suffer
the unlimited pain reflex is a blight on the human experience
think how well a mild pain cap would make significant difference
why does this exaggeration of a mindful tool become
a sensory debilitation raging until done?
it’s only conceivable purpose is to be weaponised by some
to torment and torture others until they do what they are bidden
or for a perverted sense of fun
I say cut the neural pathways of terrible unbearable pain
and let us be the masters of our lives
relieved of such a bane
a contradictory god
The god above is all seeing
the god of love permits hate
the god of kindness promotes suffering
the god of justice encourages restraint
the god all knowing refuses the future
the god of intervention awaits on fate
the god of forgiveness exercises judgement
on the select souls who make it to heaven’s gate
A Melbourne beaches walk from afternoon into the evening
Tableland Talk May, 2026
the horror of embers
I am attaching a trigger warning here. This poem is about witnessing a death under horrible circumstances. All too often such deaths are afterward referred to as part of a generalised experience that denies the raw truth of severe witness trauma. A truth that is embedded not just in loss, but also in living with the graphic detail.
I remember that awful December, when bushfire turned our world to cinder.
Ah yes, I remember,
I saw her surrounded by brilliant embers,
alight on the burning grass.
With shaded eyes I approached her,
willing the fire to pass.
But her eyes repelled me as she was torched,
boiling as she screamed.
I saw them dripping,
down scorched cheeks they streamed
in streaks
that never made it to the ground.
Only then did she fall.
Only smoke for a pall.
Never again to be around.
God bless my daughter.
I’ll never forget her.
To her spirit I remain
eternally bound.
A rare and special treat
I don’t believe I have heard someone else recite one of my poems before, let alone so insightfully analyse it. Nigel has done both and I am very grateful for his sincere dedication to the task. As with other poet’s works he has explored, I think it makes for a worthwhile listening and reading experience. Thank you for the honour of hosting one of my pieces of work and taking such good care of it Nigel. I am honoured.
crime upon crime
We look like fools
and we feel
like wraiths
we slave in the fields
we need a rest
but the guards say
we'll work on
until our death
as the sun rises higher
the temperature climbs
the water warms
we’re going out of our minds
all for a few
minor crimes
the overseers's daughter
she tempts our loins
to add to our misery
because she’s just fine
so I say to my neighbour
I think it's time
to make the move
leave this behind
i wait for the right moment
to add crime on crime
with a pick I break
the chains that bind
and I leave that line
without a sign
determined to be the one
that they never find
I run through the fields
I run through the bush
I run desperate
I run in a rush
in the furtherest place
I find my kind
I settle into my new life
of crime upon crime
as the hunt goes on
me they’ll never find
because my escape was right
my escape was a sign
that day god smiled on me
he had criminals on his mind
and to criminals he was kind
because god is merciful and
god is just
every now and then
he looks also after us
Tableland Talk April 2026
missed
I missed the last train
but in the moment I saw it as an opportunity
to walk the midnight kilometres home
I bravely left the yellow lit platform
lonely island full of light
and its twin ribbons of steel
fading into the night
i crossed the darkened city instead
stepping from one street lit pool to another
where roads were stark the highways bare
for all my looking there was nobody there
I found my way footsore and weary
across a city where there was not a soul who cared
but I was glad I had dared
The last dune
These dunes go on forever and never in my life have I felt so tired
the marching crests go on and on toward the same relentless sun I once admired
every step is weighted by troughs of sand negating the energy left to put one foot ahead of the other
but as I stagger wearily the last dune appears blearily after which I begin to think of rest and cover
I crawl the final distance against flowing sand resistance until over the last rise I will at last be
where my resolve finally breaks when viewing from the last dune I see queueing only more dunes
before a desolate beach and an endless sea
The race
I was twenty-six by the time I finally met him
she introduced the man who took my place
I know now she’ll never forget him
I’m not even in the race
so the last two years have been wasted
since I was twenty-four
I’ve grieved and sulked and mooched about
waiting for another chance with her
I was sure he was a loser
maybe even someone like me
someone just employed to amuse her
just the way I was employed it’s now easy to see
I loved her so much I fucked it up
I let her keep me dangling on a string
because she always hated to be on her own
I never realised she was just using
and then this other guy suddenly came on the scene
I don’t even know where they met
I was sure it wouldn’t last
I’d just bide my time she’d drop him and forget
but he’s actually a lovely guy
polite confident and interested with a very handsome face
I'll never be the man he is for her
I'm so far off the pace
and I hate the dude all over again
because he reflects my humiliated disgrace
a deity’s dilemma
Could it be that I
the purity in the sky
should cast a discerning eye
over my breeding stock of
human worth
my goods and chattels
harvest of the earth?
Could it be that they
have gone irrevocably astray
despite my clear direction
to follow my instruction
my example
to embrace peace and love
as do I in heaven above?
Could it be that I
master of earth and sky
should punish
the fear and loathing
the hatred and the gloating
in the name of God above
despite my principle of love?
choose your own future
It is with regret that I realise my prophecy will not be believed
it is with sadness that I see a world of unwanted hurt cannot be relieved
into the apocalypse will fall one and all for want of not heeding my call
it is not for a lack of frequency that my message remains unreceived
it is not for a deficit of clarity my warning languishes ill perceived
for none can learn from the evidence when there are none who wish to hear
who from convenient comfort will attend to tales of turbulent doom as it draws near?
who has the power to break the apathy of masses when the masses will not act on their fear?
and who will take the time to reflect after the dismal impact, who will shed a tear?
The lighthouse of ghosts
The Cape Schanck lighthouse is still full of ghosts
of keepers passengers and sailors who died on this coast
as white as the thick walls through which they keen
they swirl through the tower only glimpsed never seen
forever unsettled by tragedy at the mercy of storms
restless air is chilled by their cold empty forms
even when the wind is warm and the wide strait is calm
they struggle with their violent cruel death and its legacy of harm
remembering loved ones left behind who grieved at the cost
ghosts grieve for futures never had to the sea that were lost
today's lively visitors to the lighthouse one and all
never leave without hearing a whisper or a ghostly call
when they climb the spiral steps to look at the view
they hold loved ones closer against a chill as if they knew
each of the ghost stories from each deep watery grave
all stop a sad shivered moment with the souls never saved
then they return to their homes families and friends
departing a ghastly lighthouse dance that never ends
My response to The Skeptic’s Kaddish W3 prompt. Make sure you read Dennis Johnstone’s and Nancy Richy’s two wonderful poems included.
bath
I was looking for a belly laugh
so I jumped into a steaming bath
water tickled my toes
while I read funny prose
and bubble bath tickled my nose
See the prompt from Esther below:
Democracy, where for art thou?
"Democracy is our most precious institution, you must respect that!" he said pounding his right fist into his open left hand.
"Not when all the operating principles are misrepresented and undermined," I replied emphatically.
"Where is our right to a meaningful vote as valued as the next person's? Government no longer supports equality of education or opportunity. Freedom of speech is a shouting match dominated by the loudest. Equitable access to public resources and social infrastructure is largely pork barrelled. The distribution of wealth is dominated by manipulative profiteering cliques."
"The term democracy has been misappropriated, Political leadership is in the hands of the powerful or power mad."
"Our people want to participate, to share the benefits with each other, but our system isn't democratic, it all belies our existence; we wait, and are still denied."
The dVerse prosery prompt to which I have responded comes from Merrill. It seemed to demand a political statement to me. See below:
The crossing
He crossed the bar sails puffed full as his chest
proud to be crashing the swells and foaming waves
escaping the line upon line of graves
his father his brothers his family destroyed
only his youth denied vengeance for he had been but a boy
but now he was strong free to charge into the fight
to wreak havoc and injury to his morbid delight
the one goal remaining in his grief filled life
only one task to satisfy his dissatisfied plight
in the land of his enemy he had something to prove
to show the dark master he had nothing to lose
what he could do where his father and brothers had failed
onto the place of their betrayal he now speedily sailed
to vanquish that brutal regime on its very own soil
after years of study planning training and toil
he stepped onto the land an army at his back
and he cried the war cry, "Attack men, Attack!"
flowers
make more colour
my little flowers
for the world
is becoming bleaker
its complexion darker
we must not
let the darkness win
how can I help you
put more colour
back into the world
my little flowers?
upside city view
As I travel around the city
I contemplate something true
people are all doing something
seeing myriad projects through
every choice they make a decision
to copy or find something new
in working separately or together
they are constantly stirring
the city’s creative brew
Landscapes
It is the rugged mountain landscape that reflects my heart
from great heights I watch over every part
the pinnacles are the summit of my aspiration
valleys are where I pause for consideration and revelation
water scoured gullies have carved their scars onto my soul
but the long deep range sustains and heals my whole
open rolling plains broad flat and wide
are where the scope of my vision emerges from inside
where I can see from horizon to horizon
nothing impedes my hopes here my future can be spun
I absorb the beauty of each day each morning and evening sun
from each creature or blade each single tree or forest
watching and observing for new opportunities to enlist
along waterways I explore the wilder places I adore
where raging tempest or placid calm invoke irrepressible desires for more
like the fluid medium within me water of my life
clean water fills all empty spaces with relief
and ocean depths teem with the origins of my genes
where all futures were created as a multiverse of dreams
This week the dVerse poetics prompt from Dora was to incorporate a landscape or cityscape into your poetry that either mirrors or amplifies your interior landscape (or lack thereof).
poetography.ink 