TeAnne © 7 April. 1998
AUSTRALIA Cities of beauty, land of plenty, dance in memories,
the Nullarbor come with me as I journey beyond.......
Once, I crossed your barrenness and grand red land
the wide open spaces here in my heart,
my mind and in my friends faces.
And ‘Ayres Rock’ standing proud and strong
with the distant howls of a dingo’s song.
Away from you, on alien soils, discontentment grew.
Would I ever see you again,
tread your surfaces or swim your seas?
Alas, three months of differences similar,
but unfamiliar to me, I know where I belong,
Australia! The land of my home.
TeAnne © Dec 26. 1997
A Drive In God’s Own Country
Pristine beaches, spanning dimensions
contours velvety, sun upon sands.
Flat top mountains meet contrasting heavens,
native trees, oceans blue. Beyond, tillaged
valleys concaving in seas of winter green,
turning ochres interlude, mid-spring-times hues.
A painters ‘en plein-air’ dream, inspire golds,
grain greens, unclouded reds, amidst
windmills gyrating, readying
unique summer’s breeze ballads.
While grazing sheep, bullock, alongside horse
blend adjoining centuries history.
Primitive Hamlets dotting distant horizons,
aside natures, modern day abstract.
Grain fields covered gleaned cylindered hay,
texturing thin layered paddocks, now lush barren.
Swollen rivers along with time, have snacked upon
accompanying stone fences. Former convicts create.
Leaning trees, driven westerly winds brazenly blown.
Outlying silver topped roofs of homesteads,
glimmer in customary suns scorching glow.
Long distance travel, over God’s own land.
“AKA...A Drive In God’s Own Country”
(Poem Devoid of .The, there, and, is, are, they, them, we, I, you, me, her, him, it, that, those.)
TeAnne © Nov.1. 1998
AS CLEAR AS BLACK AND WHITE
Thinking back
nearly thirty years
She was a bigot
dead now I suppose
Vacuum behind
that dresser
change that
bed linen!
(un-slept in)
African males
(about ten in all)
Occupied rooms
for two minutes
Clean that toilet
Scrub that shower
(the recesses un- used)
she must have
told them to leave!
Oh how naive I was
with my eighteen year old
housemaid knees
Saw a gun at the
Mansfield
now torn down
Manhattan building
and San Francisco
in our Sydney streets
with flowers and LSD
When Vietnam
was hot and
American men on R&R
where the flavour
Go Go Whisky nights
Never touched
the drugs. but
The yanks and
the whisky
You betcha.
Damn nasty housekeeper
all as clear now
as black and white.
TeAnne © May 5. 1999
FIRST DAY
Concrete expansion
Building myriad
Dauntingly vast
Human abundance
Clammy gathering
Claustrophobic.
Disciplined regulations
Chauvinist dialog
Fascist dictum
Registration numeral
Acquaintances new
All for creativity!
TeAnne © Feb 15. 1999
IT’S JUST HEARSAY!
Way back, 'fore I was born, Walgett,
a thriving town, with over 20 pubs they tell.
Is hard to believe, no tell tale signs. It's
Just hearsay, I say!
‘Twas a gold rush era they tell
that caused many a men to wander
for fortune to make and at cards to squander.
For all I know! It's
Just hearsay, I say!
Now, the town is worse than dead
A visit here I tell, Forget it Fred.
Looking for history? T'aint archived. It's
Just hearsay, I say!
But the bushy with belly pressed to the bar,
bearded and bald and long in the tooth,
he may remember and think it truth.
Too many a beer and boiling sun, do tell
He thinks I lie when I say. It's
Just hearsay, I say!
TeAnne Oct 2. 1998
# 1
This poem is an ABC style, minus : The, there, and, is, are, they, them, we, I you, me, her, him,
it, that, those.
Midwest Western Australian Landscape.
A kaleidoscope of colours, enriching
Beaches of perfect white sand.
City devoid of poisons pollute.
Dandelion yellowed pastures
Envelope tired, leaning aged
Fences, touched by Father Time.
Green tree tops rustle on an
Horizons distance, generously where
Iron rusted metals, gone long by
Jut from paddocks ne’er more tilled.
Kangaroos gather under *gum trees
Leaping, jumping, like child at play.
Mountain ranges, flat topped only by
Natures sculpturing hands.
Orange flowered bushes complement
Purple *Patterson’s Curse carpet uncontrolled.
Quarries dug by man for mineral sands
Regional resources, also crayfish, galore,
Survival. Exports to places like Russia
Tokyo, China, USA, just a few.
Unusual gifts of wealth polished,
Varying gemstones removed from
Western Australia’s beauty, not even a
Xylophone players music could portray.
Yesteryears history, ghosted by
Zoning laws of technology, not necessarily better.
* Patterson’s Curse ( Salvation Jane, a noxious weed to Live stock, introduced from England)
* Gum Trees ( Eucalyptus tree)
TeAnne © Nov.2.1998
PARSLEY BETWEEN MY TEETH
Across from the 'Ecucina street Café'
sits the Travel and Foreign Exchange
with Stamp and Model Cars and the
City International Duty Free close by
Stands a Holiday Inn elite and erect. Standing beside parked motor cycles
a man on a mobile phone talks endlessly
Then I notice passers-by with mobiles
on their hips, in hands and up to moving lips.
Hearing American accents and I think for an instant
I am over 'there' again. But it's okay, I'm here
with parsley between my teeth.
The trans central 'Cat' sleeks on by
with Japanese scrawling on it's side
Hustle and bustle of a lunch hour city
Not all notice me. Though some do
as I sit here writing with parsley specks
between my teeth.
A glass carrying truck with two men
parked across from me stare, behind
dark glasses and I imagine they can see
this damn parsley between my teeth.
A wheel chair inhabitant patiently waits
by the curb for…. what? I don't know.
!!…
She got into a taxi.
Another passed me; he was pushed right on by.
Me afraid to smile with this parsley
between my teeth.
Stray pigeons scavenge for single morsels dropped
by eaters at this street side Café, where I'm at.
I'm picking the parsley from between my teeth
and it just won't budge.
Pick, poke, and drag.
No use, so I light another cigarette
and contemplate this mundane human race.
© April 23 1999 By TeAnne
QUESTION TIME
YOU KNOW THE FAULT IS NOT CAUSED BY US
SO WHY NOW, ALL THE FUSS?
WHY MAKE MARBO SUCH AN ENORMOUS DEAL?
IT WAS OUR ANCESTORS, THE LAND DID STEAL.
WANT TO TELL ME WHAT WENT WRONG?
WE’RE LOOSING OUR COUNTRY
IT’S THE SAME OLD SONG.
THERE ARE THE NATIVES, SCREAMING FOR EQUAL RIGHTS
HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN ABOUT ME, BECAUSE I’M WHITE?
AND TOO MANY ASIANS TAKING OUR JOBS
NOT ALL AUSSIES ARE LAZY, LAYABOUT SLOBS.
I HAVE DREAMS FOR MY FAMILY TOO
IT’S MADE HARD FOR ME TO PURSUE
ALWAYS A DOOR CLOSED IN MY FACE
THE GOVERNMENT WON’T HELP
I’M CAUCASIAN,
IT’S A DISGRACE.
AN OVER INDULGENCE OF USELESS IMPORTS
WHAT'S HAPPENING,
I WANT TO KNOW, TO OUR EXPORTS?
WHAT AUSTRALIA HAS IN ABUNDANCE
IS LEFT TO RUIN AND ROT.
A PIECE OF LAND FOR ME?
THEY WILL NOT ALLOT.
THE LUCKY COUNTRY?
WELL I’LL BE DAMNED.
YOU SURE FOOLED ME
MR. BUREAUCRAT MAN.
TEANNE.......22/12/93©
* WINNER * OF THE 2nd CUP CAFE Jan 1998 Poetry Contest
In this poem, my intention is not to offend Australian or American Vets
but to make the world aware that you all still exist. My views of how it was may not be correct but they do come from my heart. Terri A Hateley AKA TeAnne.©
Salute to Vietnam Vets
Australians, Americans, All creeds, All colours
Men, at nineteen, boys with brave hearts
of a life not yet lived
Side by side from different shores
blood, sweat and feelings shared
Came together to fight for freedom
in an unforgiving, God forsaken war.
While at home,
ungrateful bystanders jeered.
Soldiers who witnessed,
death, destruction, defeat
the suffering of an innocent child,
an ally or mate
the defoliation of a field, or jungle,
in the blink of an eye.
Returning as men with nightmares for memories
forever indelible
Older in mind, ruined in body
scarred beyond their years with untold horrors
and
Agent Orange devouring their Daughters and Sons
Still the innocent suffer.
Men who died, remembered only as a number
or by family.
Not by you, not by me
To give to these men, the time has come,
the love and respect they earned
as due compensation.
Not in parades nor celebration
but from your hearts and actions
They could be your sons,
fathers, husbands or lover
for them, the sentence is not over
HUG -A- VET
and your unawareness, a retraction.
TeAnne © Jan 6.1998
STARK DARKNESS! (Mirrabooka Mall)
From sunlight to eerie!
Shops closed, though some
were trading…In candle light.
Ambling through corridor like
tunnels of an innerscape Mall maze
Clutching handbag to body!
People wary to and fro!
Daylight stealing peeks inside,
while would be shoppers
dined on tepid food, under
dome shaped skylight in
the eatery. And waited.
Torch light flashings in
darkness behind transparent
steel roller shutters blocking
thieves. Candles burn in
hands of proprietors mingling
speaks of blackout hour.
Securities strolling with pupil dilate.
Eyes scanning. Hands on holsters.
The Post Office selling only stamps
Told me, “One hour on, one hour off.”
Poof…
I imagined the end of the earth!
TeAnne © 23 July.1999
The Beach
I live in the city of Perth now
a few kilometres from the beach.
A scene that’s over crowded, in
the summer seasons heat.
I miss the town where I lived
the white dunes of sand, like
snow, jutting against the sky,
where I lived in Geraldton.
I miss the pristine view, though
there were no trees for shade.
Alas, to walk along the shore,
or sit and create an imitate.
I miss the walks at sunrise
And the shells for my collection.
The tide ebbing from my feet
My thoughts are recollection.
TeAnne © July 14. 1999
|
|
THE INTERVIEW
I had met her before
But this was different
This was an interview
This was professionalism
Preparations of questions
And butterfly tickles.
She was held in high regard
The art worlds queen and
Me a mere student
My importance to appear
Not too naive
Younger than I, her
Experience vast beyond
My year’s, knowledge wise.
My admiration of her and her work
Was beyond number one fan.
Star struck extremes
Meeting her again was
Life’s magic dream
The interview would have went well
If only she had bothered to show.
An omen, I’m travelling the wrong road.
TeAnne © 22 March 1999
CULTURE SHOCK
In Perth’s 'Culture Centre Art Gallery' coffee shop,
The pulse of an artist’s city.
Just watching them all walk by
All nationalities
All different lives
Rushing
Strolling
Food in mouths or hands
Disabled bodies, or minds
Purple haired or green or red
All seeking ‘that special something’
That could change their lives
Coming and going,
Backpacks, school books
Visual dairies
Brief – cases, nine to five
Or just sitting at this coffee shop
Chatting about life’s great explores
While ‘blues’ music pipes from speakers
Later in a food hall Caucasian male using chopsticks While the Asian wife used fork and spoon While I watch, eating Continental roll with Italian cappuccino.
TeAnne © 22 March 1999
WALGETT.
(My Home Town)
Then in Walgett town it’s where the
‘Barwon’ and the ‘Namoi’ rivers meet-
It’s brown and dead in the outback with carcass spoil.
Flood then drought and hot north gale.
The windows all barred now and trite are the streets.
But the beer flows amber and
the shearers, clip fleece - their backs well bent.
Roly-poly salt bush on the sunsets plains,
and drovers’ camp under the stars praying for rain.
while the billy boils.
Where mad blue dogs’ sun bake in fifty degree heat
with cancerous nose and ears, No one left who cares.
TeAnne © Apr 26. 1998
No comments:
Post a Comment