gazetteno179

Tasmanian Europa Poets Gazette No 179, March 2019

The Poets

Joe Lake's Baby Talks

Catherine Burton 

My Projection

Am I real

What is real

Flesh and blood

A projection, avatar

Game or ghost

I can taste the rain upon my tongue

Feel your breath against my cheek

See your shadow on the grass

Smell the earth between my fingers

Hear the beating of my heart

I sigh

An exhalation

A whisper of wind through leaves

If there is no one

To hear me, see me, feel me

Am I absolute

I have someone to love and someone loves me

A reflection in your eyes

My reality

 Catherine Burton

Cathy Weaver

Joe Lake's, She Won't Listen

Gender

According to tradition, men are tough, women are tender but in contemporary Australian society, things are not so straightforward when it comes to gender. Women are now free to take on traditional male roles as doctors, lawyers or judges or the police force, parliament or the military.

Men may take up positions as nurses, air stewards, house cleaners, kindergarten teachers or nannies (known as a manny).

               When it comes to clothes, it is socially acceptable for a woman to wear trousers or jeans.

               But if a man wears a skirt or dress, he may find some people treat him rather mean!

While most people are happy and accepting of the gender they were born with,

Some people find themselves torn between their assigned gender and the gender they would rather be. A transition to their preferred gender is then necessary for their health and wellbeing.

There are some who don’t identify with either gender, in particular. There are those that identify with both genders. My feeling is that no-one is totally masculine or totally feminine. We are all somewhat of a combination, with some leaning more one way than another whether they happen to be on this gender spectrum or need support and understanding to be who they are truly meant to be.

Cathy Weaver

to me

Robbie Taylor

To me

Just as I am

I'll always be.

For I cannot change.

I am me

And can only be

A strange messed-up puzzle

To me.

Early on Sundays a congregation would throng 

Outside the paper shop in Adelong. 

Gossiping about their town of sin 

Until the papers from Sydney came in. 

Politics and weather that affected their lives. 

Men who visited their best mate's wives.

Sugar Bill who would wander up the creek 

To visit his girlfriend in Camp St. 

Who was stealing flour from the bakery?

Lou was running an illegal SP. 

How many arrests did Shelley get there this week?

The rising meat prices at Bill Treweek's. 

Who got a visit from the nuns?

At the cricket who scored the most runs?

How about the teachers at the public school?

And who put the paper into the swimming pool?

Tyner got caught stealing Charlie's wood 

And Charlie got him well and good. 

Sheila was whoring behind the pub. 

Was there really money missing from the club?

Who was ill and who had died?

Was Joe's death really suicide?

The Jim Mack and John Bull sagas. 

Again, Dixie couldn't handle her lagers. 

Rowe was charged with causing an affray. 

Who would win the rugby today?

Dave put some geli in the creek. 

Two families ate fish for a week. 

The meeting was adjourned in this town of sin 

As soon as the paper truck pulled in. 

Robbie Taylor

Joe Lake;s The Angry Man

Yvonne Matheson

Good Friends

Turbulent times trouble us from time to time.

Protective, loyalty and respect

Honest

Tumultuous oceans

Sentimental moments

Our family extremely close.

Tasmania has beautiful locations.

Proud to be Australians.

Extraordinary parents, I had.

Always put the seven children first.

Mum always said, start something

Finish it, never quit.

People can be misunderstood.

We all make wrong choices.

I like a real person, honest and true.

Complement one another.

Be a proud Australian.

Look to the future, forget unpleasant pasts.

A true friend is someone who is

there for you through thick and thin,

good times and bad.

It is important to clear the air.

 Yvonne Matheson

Michael Garrad

  

Raining Green

I see beyond the wither,

Parched earth,

Despondent leaves, limp,

Wounds, as cracks in soil,

I feel scorching wind,

Dust that chokes,

Gnarled bark beaten dry,

Flowers in mourning,

Forlorn hope, the cool wet,

Ache of dry death,

Last gasp in summer silence,

Plaintive cry of thirst-crazed creatures,

I close my eyes…

And see the raining green.

Michael Garrad February 2019

This Loud Night

Defy the silence this loud night,

Let the whisper resonate in delight,

Scream against this terror, fight,

Ignite the rage in fading light,

Stare twisted shadow, clutch it tight,

And rent asunder, anger, white,

Arrest the soul in melancholy flight,

Vanquish death in sliver bright.

Michael Garrad February 2019

June Maureen Hitchcock

  

Just Pondering

‘Double, double, toil and trouble’,

Shakespeare’s witches said -

Was their world so very different from ours of today?

Greed, hatred, injustice and upheaval are rife,

Poverty opposes wealth (with a vast chasm between)

And, at the least, unrest rules -

What has changed?

History tells us that wars are nothing new,

And ruthless men in control is nothing new,

Where will it end?

Perhaps ‘the powers that be’ are in revolt against our ingratitude

For life on this wondrous planet -

After all, so far no other place in our universe

Gives us a choice!

Or perhaps Hell has risen to unleash upon us

Widespread fires, floods, hurricanes and cyclones -

Aren’t we receiving the strongest message possible?

Fix ourselves and our precious world,

Before we self-destruct and hurtle into the black void!

Today, I’m sitting at my keyboard -

Just pondering.

June Maureen Hitchcock 

Joe Lake

A Summer’s Day

The crickets in my garden chirp.

A butterfly is helped by the wind towards a flower.

The breeze waves the washing on the line.

On the opposite hill, a car slowly glides past.

The eucalyptus trees behind the university are

               caressed as if brushed.

A television mumbles next door.

A car grates its noise in the distance.

The university on the other side of my fence

               appears empty, not like a coffin but has a string   

attached to a bell, just in case.

Buckets of greengages lie rotting on the ground.

There has been too much rain just at the right

               moment for them to ripen.

Sweet and crunchy greengages are stored in bags               

in the bottom of our fridge.

The possums had killed previous fruit trees by

               feasting on their leaves until the tree died but       

the branches now are too weak to support

               anything but abundant plums.

The most prolific greengage tree is old but it is laden with fruit.

The grass behind the house had died during the dry

spell but now, after the rain, it needs mowing.

Judy has been trying to control the blackberry      

bushes but has found it difficult.

The orange roses had been watered and expose themselves tentatively.

It is good to be alive.

Joe Lake

Judy Brumby-Lake

Hi, Mr Freud

Mr Freud, if you’re awake up there,

can you please, please explain men to   me?

Why is it that macho men like to drive    around

with dangling toys   inside their cars

and take cuddly teddy bears to bed

and walk proudly with small dogs in tow?

So, please, please, Mr Freud,

               could you explain

               men to me?

 Judy Brumby-Lake

 lakej5263@gmail.com