PREFACE The writer hopes that this book will be enjoyed by all those who take the time to read it. I have endeavoured to relate many of my thoughts, emotions & experiences in verse as accurately as I could, pulling no punches. For each poem I have included a brief account of the inspiration which lead me to write it, and also an illustration. THANKS Illustrations - Brian Hutchings Layout - Michael Darby

POEMS FIRST KISS A WOMAN’S LIFE CENTAURI KOMBI PIANO TUNER THE GAMBLER THANKFUL KURSK WOMEN OF THE NIGHT 3 DOORS FEROCIOUS FRIEND SIX O’CLOCK ABUSE AUSTRALIAN MANDELLA ONE EARTH WAYNE SWAN CROCKETT (Story of a con-man) 3 YEARS (Julia’s Carbon Tax Lie)

Imagine a young man seeing a beautiful young girl on the dance floor. Their eyes make contact, he asks her to dance. After the dance he walks her home through the ice & snow to her doorstep, arranging to see her again. As his heart pounds, he steals a soft, sweet kiss before saying goodnight. Missing the last bus was of no consequence and the cold night air failed to dampen his spirits as he thought of the girl all the way home. FIRST KISS Alone at last in private place My fingertips caress your face Our lips move ever closer till they meet And as our juices mingle I feel every hormone tingle I’ve never tasted anything so sweet Poetalan We married a few years later & had 4 wonderful children

In years gone by, most women didn’t have regular, paid jobs & were confined to ‘domestic’ duties. The perception was that the husband’s working day finished at 5pm. Times have changed dramatically.

A WOMAN’S LIFE

A woman's life ain't easy

Much tougher than a man's

You disagree ? Then maybe you're a fool

A woman can't come home from work

Sit down and watch TV

Or go play with the kiddies in the pool

She has to do the shopping

And cook the dinner too

The washing tends to drive her round the bend

The kitchen floor needs mopping

She has to clean the loo

No wonder she has a headache at the end

So when your day is over and off you go to bed

Your hands on tender parts begin to creep

You act so disappointed , when she says 'NOT TONIGHT'

Rolls over, takes a pill and goes to sleep

You think you're so hard done by

You've slaved all day at work

Entitled to relax and have some fun

But just remember mister

Your fair share, don't you shirk

A woman's job is never ever done

Poetalan

My love of science, astronomy & space travel has never dwindled. Sailing ships took mankind to the far reaches of our planet. Modern engineers & scientists grapple with the immense problems associated with flying to even the nearest star. The tyranny of distance may prevent our species from colonising the galaxy. CENTAURI Centauri you’re the nearest star. You look so close, but you’re so far Away, that I may never feel The soft warmth of your glow. If I could reach across the void, My heart would sure be overjoyed, As you begin to teach your student All the secrets that he craves to know. Our latest spacecraft are propelled By burning gases fast expelled. As yet, no innovation which foreshadows Humble interstellar flight. For you and I to ever meet, Requires a monumentous feat. Your suitor must come courting in a carriage That approaches speed of light. Poetalan

How I loved my old VW Kombi. She was like my 5th child, and when we all left

England & moved off to Australia in 1986, the Kombi was thrown into a

container & shipped too. When she finally gave her last puff of smoke in

Sydney I felt so very sad & felt compelled to write her story

‘KOMBI’ She’s looking quite exhausted now, Her engine’s blowing smoke, Acceleration’s very slow, And top speed’s just a joke. Her paintwork’s dotted here and there, With ugly warts of rust, Enhanced by Sydney’s damp salt air, That settled like the dust. One side door doesn’t open now, The rear door sticks half way. Four tyres need replacing. I’ll do it all some day. The indicators work when warm, But sometimes fail when cold. I tried, but couldn’t find the fault. Maybe we’re both too old. Two continents we have explored, In fourteen years together. Driven through the alpine snow, And Queensland’s sticky weather. How proud she looked when first we met, Her paint was gleaming blue, Her diesel engine in the back, That purred so sweet and true. You’ve served your family, oh so well, And always done your best. My wonderful VW, It’s time to take a rest. Poetalan

Sitting in a hotel lounge in Shanghai, I watched a young woman go about her

work. I remember the peace & tranquillity of the moment in that beautiful

room as the poem was conceived.

PIANO TUNER In the peaceful surround of the coffee lounge, Sitting in comfortable chair, I’m due at the bookshop at half past one, So there’s more than an hour to spare. At the end of the lounge, there’s a bookshelf, Where many red books, on mahogany stand, Framed pictures of horses, strategically placed, And a gem studded dagger, from some distant land. In front of the bookshelf, a beautiful sight, Many coats of French polish, so shiny & bright, White ivory keys, that can play a soft tune, As sweet & romantic, as any full moon. And there stands the tuner, with spanner in hand, Carefully nursing piano so grand, Meticulous, as she checks voltage & sound, Adjusting a string, if perfection’s not found. How deeply she concentrates, checking each chord, I watch for an hour, & never feel bored, Starting at low note, & works towards high, Enlisting experience, mind, ear, & eye. Nothing distracts her, she’s deeply engrossed, Each string must be perfect, she tries her utmost, I watch her cool face, almost feel what she’s thinking, No time for eating, talking or drinking, Maestro will come soon, with his hands so steady, Lounge will be full, so all must be ready, His ear will pick up the most minute defect, That all those who listen, might never detect, And after each melody, he’ll take a pause, At the end he will bow, & accept the applause, And as they shout “Encore”, & see Maestro smile, Let us just think of the tuner a while, She’s very important, but audience won’t see, Who will sing her praise? Perhaps none; but me. Poetalan

This poem was written as I studied to be a LifeLine telephone counsellor. LifeLine have used it for their Gambling Addiction Courses. Based on a friend of mine, but I suspect most of us know this man or someone very similar. Unfortunately, he could never admit to having a problem & never sought nor accepted help. THE GAMBLER He lives alone. For who on earth could ever bear, The heartache, grief & sheer despair, That his addiction brings. He sleeps alone. A woman loved, and she did care, But never quite enough to share, Her life with one so unaware, Of her deep feelings. He cries alone. Teardrops fall by unpaid bills, Coffee and depression pills, Cannot hear the bird that sings, Or antique phone that never rings, Long since disconnected. He walks alone. But never to the bush or sea, So quickly to the T.A.B. Or ticket for the lottery, Such easy money, can’t you see, Just one big win will set him free, Then people will respect him. He dreams alone. If only his bad luck would change, All the things he’d rearrange, Nice big house and prestige car, Wife that looks like movie star, Then those who used to turn away, Would stoop & bow and say G’day, And try to be his friend. He dies alone. Not one friend to call his own, Pill bottles lie by antique phone, Long since disconnected. Poetalan

Many of us fail to fully appreciate the blessings we have in life. Sometimes I forget just how lucky I am to be alive in this wonderful country in a time of peace, surrounded by loved ones & friends THANKFUL When the lady of the house, I see injustice, and I care, Cooks dinner for her kids & spouse, I hear the cries of those out there, From packet, freezer, or from tin, Who need a gentle helping hand, Complete with chemicals within, Or counsellor to understand. Perhaps you find there’s not much meat, I’m thankful for my eyes and ears, The pastry’s burnt and hard to eat, Thankful that I shed real tears, Say “Delicious” as you chew, Thankful for my easy life, Be thankful she’s at home with you. And love I share with precious wife, Thankful for my intellect, As husband sits with cup in hand, And for my humble self respect, Not washing up, as you had planned, For agile mind, though not real smart, Once more, he’s left it all to you, And OH, so thankful for my heart He doesn’t know how much you do, Poetalan Perhaps it’s not, he doesn’t care, Just that he’s so unaware, So let him sit and watch TV, In padded chair, where you can see, A few short steps from where you are, And not out drinking at the bar. Says teenage girl to mum once more, I tidied up my room before, I shouldn’t have to make my bed, Or study till my eyes are red, You know I’m not one to complain, But all this work is such a pain. Just listen mum, and mark my word, Although her logic seems absurd, Her body and her mind are changing, Hormones, feelings, rearranging, Home with you, she’s safe & sweet, Not so, out there on filthy street. Every week you have to pay, Those dreaded taxes, and you say, It’s far too much for what I earn, The government has dough to burn, Politicians, they don’t care, They all take the lion’s share, And then perhaps you’ll stop and think, How much you have to eat and drink, Too much tax, that may be true, But not in unemployment queue.

More than 100 sailors lost their lives when the mighty Russian submarine ‘Kursk’ went down in the Bering sea around the turn of the century. A huge blow to Russian pride, and despair to so many families in a tragedy, which should never have happened. How quickly our own politicians in Australia dive for cover, avoid questions & lie when something goes tragically wrong. (eg Insulation debacle) KURSK The Bering sea is grey & cold, The Kursk was proud, But she was old. Why did so many sailors have to die? The once majestic Russian fleet, Neglected, rusty, incomplete, Now admirals & politicians lie. In days of high technology, Men should be masters of the sea, But meanwhile, many Russian mothers cry. Poetalan

There are many ‘red light’ districts in Shanghai. Sex is just another commodity to be bought & sold. The trade is set to grow rapidly due to the imbalance of males to females. Some estimates say there are 40 million more males than females in China, partially due to female children in the countryside being discarded. Masturbation may become more popular than Tai Chi & Ping Pong combined. WOMEN OF THE NIGHT They stand there in the same spot every night, You see them on the pavement, underneath street light, Some are talking to strange men, they’ve never seen before, Men who’ve left their homes, to go out searching for a whore, A young girl finds a customer, he finds her very nice, She smiles at him seductively, & he agrees her price, They walk together from the street, & onto building land, She gives her pleasure, then returns, with money in her hand, Takes up her position where she is clearly seen, Thinking of next client, & not where she’s just been. What forces these young women, To leave village, or small town, And walk the streets of Shanghai, With such immoral frown. When they were slowly drowning, in a sea of poverty, Perhaps the devil in nice clothes, said “young girl, come with me, Shanghai’s streets are paved with gold, & I will set you free, Take my hand, the promised land’s where you should really be”. How I’d love to talk to them, and take them from their life, Help each one make an honest man a good & loving wife, Their dialect, I cannot speak, but I would love to try, Because, but for the grace of god, along that street go I. Poetalan

At the time of writing, I felt our love would last for eternity. Reality set in some 6 years later. We were very different & sadly we parted. Life is punctuated by wonderful joys and the deepest of sorrows. 3 DOORS In this mortal life, whether happy or sad, There are 2 things of which we are sure, We all will pay taxes, some good & some bad, And one day, death knocks on our door. Let us assume that I lead a good life, Kind to my neighbours, my children & wife, As frail heart stops beating, I take my last breath, Through life’s door I exit, embracing my death, When Grim Reaper comes, he says ‘All is well’, ‘Our first call is heaven, not yet down to hell’, ‘I don’t make the judgements, but this I can tell’, ‘It’s doubtful that you will hear Satan’s cruel bell’. Grim Reaper takes me to Heaven’s big gate, Before he departs, he say’s ‘here you must wait’, ‘Soon they will call you, & judged you will be’, ‘Pray that you stay here with God, and be free’, ‘For if all’s not well, they’ll return you to me’, ‘And your flesh will burn for eternity’. Pearly gates open, & then I’m called in, Saint Peter & others sit down, we begin, Events long forgotten by me they recall, Angels with long scrolls, in that mighty hall, All deeds are counted, & carefully weighed, When all are read out, the judgement is made, Saint Peter says kindly, ‘Perfection is rare, At times you were callous, but often showed care, To those that you loved, you often caused pain, Then tried hard, but sometimes, offended again, You stand now before me, you need not look sad, Good deeds in your life, have outnumbered the bad, Your sins are forgiven, your soul is now pure, You enter God’s Kingdom, no hell to endure’. The final door opens, Saint Peter says ‘Go’, He’s astonished, as I say respectfully ‘No’, He sees I am troubled, and watches me cry, Looks into my eyes, & says ‘Please tell me why’.

I think very carefully, & look up again, ‘Don’t think me ungrateful, but I must explain, I have a soul partner, took so long to find, I love her sweet body, her heart, & her mind, So honest & beautiful, loyal & kind, Impossible for me to leave her behind’. ‘Continue’ Said Peter, ‘Tell me some more, Most thank me sincerely, & run for the door, That door leads to paradise, with God you will stay, Yet, now it seems you want a few years delay’. ‘I once made a promise, to my true love Hui, Told her, together, we would always stay’. ‘Forever’, I promised, & not just through life, This promise I must keep, to my precious wife. When Grim Reaper took me, I couldn’t say no, He called on me suddenly, & I had to go. But now I implore you, if there is a choice, Consider my promise, & please hear my voice, Unhappy & lonely, I’m sure she will be, I want her to walk through that last door with me’. Saint Peter was moved as he heard my request, God listened too, & he always knows best, ‘Grim Reaper will call on Hui Clarke, without pain, Come to me together, be happy again.’ Lao Gong (Poetalan)

The joys of sailing help me to forget the cost & danger of owning a cruising boat. A few years back I sailed from Sydney to Coffs Harbour & had a wonderful trip. When I got home I wrote these words. One has to be careful & concentrate, particularly in heavy weather. The last line of the poem is so true. FEROCIOUS FRIEND The ocean's like a tiger, It can crush you in it's jaws, And tear the strongest ship apart, With powerful sharp claws. But still, so many put to sea, In craft of wood or steel, Or high tech new materials, To strengthen hull and keel. The ocean's like a magnet, Draws men out from the shore, It’s like a sweet addictive drug, That calls you more and more. How nice it is to put to sea, With gear you know won't fail, For nothing is more splendid, Than a vessel under sail. The bow cuts through the waves of blue, And dolphins swim close by, The spinnaker and headsail, Are white against blue sky. A fair wind drives us through the night, Past Jupiter and Mars, The constellations look so bright, So too, the shooting stars. The ocean's like a jury, That your life depends upon, Just one mistake at crisis time, No second chance!! You're gone!! Poetalan

As the founder & ‘Public Officer’ of a Sydney charity feeding homeless & marginalised people, I have many duties. One of those duties is collecting money on the street with a stand, A-Frame & bucket. To pass the time, I like to observe people & write about some of the more interesting.

SIX O’CLOCK

Six times the hammer strikes church bell,

And those who live in fear of hell,

Rush to church to pray and tell,

And trust the Lord to fare them well.

It’s six o’clock, and darkness falls,

Red eyed guards walk shopping malls,

Young vandals roam past shops and stalls,

They strike & run, so duty calls.

Two lovers meet at six, as planned,

With beaming smile, he takes her hand,

I feel their love from where I stand,

Worth more than gem or krugerand.

It’s time to put the stand away,

To finish up this fruitful day,

Time to leave my working life,

And go home to my lovely wife,

All day long I’ve missed her smile,

But I will kiss her in short while,

She will hug me as we meet,

And help me to forget the street.

Poetalan

Working on the Domestic Violence Hotline was very stressful & painful for me personally.

The same story was repeated over and over again. Eventually, I had to quit & pursue

something less demanding. Perhaps my own troubled childhood contributed to my failure in

that position. How awful it is for those women & kids who suffer the horrors of DV.

ABUSE Those early days when love first called, His words so kind, his kiss so sweet, The universe was ours alone, His presence made my life complete. Some minor faults and problems, I had my own, perfection’s rare, His tantrums, then his shouting, So in love, I didn’t care, Different when we’re married, And living on our own, I’ll show him the contentment, And happiness he’s never known. The first time that he hurt me, I really didn’t understand, The man whose children I would bear, And raise the family we had planned, The one I would have died for, How could he raise an angry hand? Begged me to forgive him, Such tenderness, sincere remorse, This is the first time, and the last time, He meant every word, of course, Give me one more chance my darling, Don’t know what got into me, Another drink, I’ll never take, From this day till eternity. No-one to turn to, no-one to tell, Everyone loves him, and I do as well, He’s back to normal, forget all the pain, Red roses and chocolates, so happy again. The last thing I remember on that final day, Was the siren wailing as they stretchered me away, A few days in the hospital, then home with mum to stay, AVO and charges laid, and for his soul I’ll pray. Time has passed, my body healed more quickly than my heart, And though I miss him very much, the time has come to start, Seeing all my friends again, and new things to explore, And maybe when the pain has eased, I’ll fall in love once more. Poetalan

My parents brought me here as ‘ten pound poms’ when I was 2 years old. They returned to England 2 years later quite disillusioned, but my first memories had been formed in that short time. When I emigrated back to Sydney in 1986 I had this wonderful feeling that I was finally home. As the sun sets on Pittwater, and the surrounding bush lights up to green and gold, a man could be forgiven for thinking he had died & gone to heaven. AUSTRALIAN Australian, I’m proud to be, So much I love my home, Open spaces all around, For citizens to roam, There’s beauty all around me, Strange animals abound, From Kimberly to Great Divide, They grace our sacred ground. Now I was born an Englishman, Four children and a wife, Left Heathrow one cold morning, To start another life, Settled here in Sydney, A stone’s throw from the sea, Finest city in the world, It’s where I want to be. So here is where I’ll live my life, To share true love with my new wife, Smile at every bright clear dawn, Sunday arvo, mow the lawn, Watch SBS news every night, How the politicians fight, To others I will lend a hand, As we all should in this dear land, Do what I can for those in need, The hungry I will try to feed. I’ll try to laugh at everything, Occasionally cry, And when the party’s over, Heave a long deep sigh, Thank my God for everything, Tell all I love goodbye, On Sydney’s Northern Beaches, A contented man I’ll die. Poetalan

A true hero is someone who is prepared to sacrifice his own life for the benefit of others. The following words are my personal tribute to one such man.

MANDELLA So long endured captivity Though spirit and the mind were free Came through those years of tyranny With vision for democracy Where all would know equality So happy that you lived to see From heaven view your legacy Goodbye my friend, Goodbye Poetalan

So many of our politicians have not read or fully understood the science of Climate Change. If we do not begin the switch to non-fossil energies, our children will suffer the terrible consequences. ONE EARTH Climates changing, longer summers, Not so cold, these winter days, Cyclones roar like Satan’s drummers Men must surely mend their ways. Ocean rise is slow, but steady, Less sea ice at poles we see Reefs and fish are now declining, Can’t cope with acidity. Growth and profits still are sacred, Human populations rise, Mass extinctions, rate increasing, Listen to their silent cries, Heed our scientists clear warnings, Ignore the politician’s lies, We only have one Earth to live on, Heal her wounds, before she dies. Poetalan

The following poem highlights the double standards in our society.

3 YEARS

Three years he got in Goulburn jail The judge’s words rang loud & clear Perjury’s a wicked crime And we will not accept it here Our system’s based on honesty And we must show our youth That lying, we won’t tolerate And everyone should tell the truth Three years she got in Canberra The words she said rang loud & clear I promise you “NO CARBON TAX And guarantee it won’t come here Our system’s based on honesty No lies you’ll hear from me As truthful as the day is long And that’s the way I’ll always be” Our system isn’t perfect And sometimes it can fail So who should be in Canberra? And who should be in Goulburn jail? Poetalan

WAYNE SWAN CROCKETT - Story of a con man (budget=3card trick)

As I was out walking, one fine Sydney day

I happened upon Wayne Swan Crockett

"Please assist me" Said Wayne, "This game is for two"

As he pulled out 3 cards from his pocket

"It's easy to play, & always such fun

Here, let me show you what to do

The Queen of Hearts, there is only one

But black Aces with her are two

I'll lay all three down & show you the Queen

Turn them over & then we'll begin

As I throw them around, keep your eye on the lady

When I stop, turn her up, & you win"

Wayne picked up the cards & threw them around

Then said "Pick the Queen if you please"

My eye was keen & I'd followed each throw

So I picked out the lady with ease

Five times we played & five times I won

Each time my confidence grew

Wayne exclaimed "I've played this game many times,

But ne'er met a player like you"

"You seem like a smart lad" Said Wayne as we played

"Your wit's keen & humour is funny

It's rare I do this, but I'll give you a chance

To make some nice, quick, easy money

Place whatever you have on the Queen

For one such as you, little trouble

If you have correctly selected the queen

Your savings will instantly double"

I thought Wayne a kind man to give me this chance

"You have but the one try" He said

Fifty dollars was all I had in the world

A hundred if I used my head

Wayne threw the cards as he had done before

And said "My young friend place your bet

One hundred is yours if you pick out the queen

And this day you will never forget"

So eagerly my note was laid on the card

I just couldn't wait to be paid

But instead of the Queen, I'd chosen an ace

Not even a heart, but a spade

Poetalan

THE CLIMATE IS A-CHANGIN’ - Bob Dylan’s music Alan’s words https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dVFxykauM4E&feature=youtu.be Come gather round people wherever you roam Cos slowly, but surely we’re killing our home As Ice sheets and glaciers roll into the sea Coastlines will be re-arrangin’ So many big cities submergin' will be For the climate is a changin’ Come politicians and lend me your ears Put the planet ahead of seductive careers Pick up your pens, catastrophe nears, For this world that we love is worth savin’ And God’s looking down with his eyes full of tears For the climate is a changin’ Come all men and women from every land Black white or yellow, together we must stand Coal fired stations should surely be banned Abandon the new ones we’re building or planned Alternative power's already been found And the war against carbon's a-ragin’ Stop diggin’ up coal, leave it all in the ground For the climate is a changin’ Come all men of science, raise up your voice Explain to the world whilst we still have a choice Let’s listen to Hansen and heed what he says The predictions he makes, if we don’t mend our ways The burning of Carbon, the part that it plays Cos the window for action’s a-fadin’ And we will regret to the end of our days For the climate is a changin’ Come all ye children who’ve yet to be born And sadly awake to a different dawn For it’s you who will suffer, it’s you who will cry As our creatures, our forests and oceans all die And you’ll be the ones who’ll be asking us ‘WHY’ Was everyone procrastinating? You knew it was coming, but you stood idly by When the climate was a changin’ POETALAN

Is it ignorance, greed, corruption or perhaps something else that causes our politicians to totally ignore the science of Climate Change. Even as surface and ocean temperatures rise in line with predictions, as natural disasters intensify on a global scale and here in Australia, we experience unprecedented droughts and bushfires, our politicians continue to lie and deny. When will the penny drop? Master’s Degrees from Murdoch University are common in Canberra Nowhere Man PM Morrison –Beatles Music https://youtu.be/DdgWXF0cb_w He’s a real Nowhere Man With his evil Fossil Plan Tells ADANI “Yes you can, Well subsidise” Doesn’t have a point of view Rinehart tells him what to do Words he speaks are seldom true, cant help but lie Chorus Nowhere man, don’t worru There’s still time, but hurry Nowhere man the entire world looks at our burning land Bushfires raging all around Fire tornadoes, awful sound Charred Koalas on the ground, across the land Scientists and Firechiefs warned The ones you cast aside and scorned Has the new day finally dawned, and cleared your mind Chorus Nowhere man, don’t worry There’s still time, but hurry Nowhere man the entire world looks at our burning land Enough false promises and lies Let’s rapidly decarbonise Then Australians won’t despise their Nowhere man x 3