All Poems
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Tales in the beginning
© Ivan Donn Carswell
In the beginning that was all there was,
a new forged social unity of the self aware
in a community of need, a bare structure
to belie the complexities to come,
but it was where the tales all must have begun.
Denner's Old Woman
© William Cowper
In this mimic form of a matron in years,
How plainly the pencil of Denner appears!
Sweetness Of The Decent Night
© Ivan Donn Carswell
They talked to me again today, they spoke in gentle tones
and said the things I ought to hear then lead me where
the frangipani flowered; they said the heady scent was meant
to soothe the wicked wounds I wore, to ease the twisted scars
Fragment
© James Weldon Johnson
The hand of Fate cannot be stayed,
The course of Fate cannot be steered,
By all the gods that man has made,
Nor all the devils he has feared,
Not by the prayers that might be prayed
In all the temples he has reared.
Strawberries again today
© Ivan Donn Carswell
The red berries wreak an awesome spell that some would dread;
others, weak and soulless, must succumb, they treasure with the eyes
the plump and soulful fruit, the shape inspires a heady heart that beats
aright as if in love, and love it is that drives the buds describing taste.
Introduction A Glimpse of Boyhood
© Henry Lawson
Boys out there by the western creeks,
Who hurry away from school,
To climb the spurs of the breezy peaks,
Or dive in the shaded pool
Still hear the waves
© Ivan Donn Carswell
It was a brave day under an endlessly clear sky
that extended forever from our valley
to the unfathomably distant sea.
It was a day to remember amongst days of
Phasellus Ille
© Ezra Pound
Come Beauty barefoot from the Cyclades,
She'd find a model for St. Anthony
In this thing's sure decorum and behaviour.
Steves tears
© Ivan Donn Carswell
My beloved called to me to come and see Steves
tears, he was crying on TV; Steve Irwin, The Crocodile Man,
and they werent crocodile tears. Harriet had died,
Steve could not contain his tears and freely cried,
On a Primitive Canoe
© Claude McKay
Here, passing lonely down this quiet lane,
Before a mud-splashed window long I pause
Something to shout about
© Ivan Donn Carswell
Captain AJ Shout, VC, MC, MID (& bar), who died at Gallipoli
of wounds and was posthumously awarded the VC,
a rare and prestigious award for most conspicuous bravery,
could say, even in dying, it was something to shout about.
So Let Us Dare
© Ivan Donn Carswell
How do we discover an antidote to each other,
a faculty to commune in spiteful space?
Our bleeding hearts and noxious farts
tie us in a hopeless chase to free this place
To The Gad-Fly
© George Moses Horton
Majestic insect! from thy royal hum,
The flies retreat, or starve before they'll come;
The obedient plough-horse may, devoid of fear,
Perform his task with joy, when thou art near.
Simple pleasures that you bring
© Ivan Donn Carswell
Do you mind if I write a few lines for you tonight?
Im fuelled for sure, perhaps a bit ebullient,
(now theres a rhyme that will be hard to find
a word to suit!) Ill try, but time will surely take
From Eurpides II
© Samuel Rogers
Dear is that valley to the murmuring bees;
And all, who know it, come and come again.
The small birds build there; and, at summer-noon,
Oft have I heard a child, gay among the flowers,
As in the shining grass she sate concealed,
Sing to herself…….
Silvered In The Dying Light
© Ivan Donn Carswell
Silvered in the dying light she lies
a silent sleeping twinkle coloured Eve
who heaves and breathes a sinuous sigh
beneath her oiled and shimmering skin.
The Companions
© Alfred Noyes
How few are they that voyage through the night
On that eternal quest,
For that strange light beyond our light,
That rest beyond our rest.
Verses Why Burnt
© Walter Savage Landor
HOW many verses have I thrown
Into the fire because the one
Peculiar word, the wanted most,
Was irrecoverably lost!
Shirley of Serendipity
© Ivan Donn Carswell
Where were you Shirley of the Sanguine Lake?
Where did you disappear? The echoes of your empty house
Were almost stilled yet held to soar the scheming rough
And quaver in a hollow fear. We raked the mirrored water's edge
General Joubert
© Rudyard Kipling
With those that bred, with those that loosed the strife,
He had no part whose hands were clear of gain;
But subtle, strong, and stubborn, gave his life
To a lost cause, and knew the gift was vain.
