The Intensity of Flux

The Intensity of Flux

The Intensity of Flux The passage of life, as it blunders along, With the constant of change, and fears that belong, To the twists and the turns of each passing day, It just ebbs and it flows as each day rolls away. A vast sea of change with tempests and storms, Followed by calms and fiery red dawns. Never in time will a day ever pass by, When there isn’t a need to smile or cry. In love as in life, or are they one and the same? The flux is intense, as change never goes lame. With breakneck speed, with galloping pace, Is life just a challenge, a simplistic

Mouths Cut Just Like Razor Blades

Mouths Cut Just Like Razor Blades

Tom Waits, the master of words. When it comes to wordsmiths, Tom Waits heads my list by a very long way. His ability to create images with often just a few immaculately chosen words always has me in awe of his brilliance. ‘With their mouths cut just like razor blades and their eyes are like stilettos‘, is one classic example of his mastery. This appears in the poem ‘Small Change’ and has, after more than thirty years since he recorded it with only saxophone accompaniment, remained one of my favourites. If you have never heard or read Small Change by Tom Waits, enjoy the following video and accompanying lyrics. If

Clancy Of The Overflow

Clancy Of The Overflow

It has been some time since I posted some classic Australian poetry. So I thought I would right that wrong with one of my favourites that opens with an unforgettable line that was burned into my memory in my schooldays. I had written him a letter which I had, for want of better I recall my teacher going on for some time about the placement of the comma in this line, as it should naturally follow the pronoun which and create a non-defining relative clause. Whether ‘Banjo’ knew this, or was using poetic licence, it doesn’t matter. It just wouldn’t read the same if the comma was moved to the grammatically

Searching

Searching

Searching Watching the city crowds hustling by, All rush and scurry, frowns and sighs. Busily filling their days with moans, I wonder how many spend their nights all alone. The crowds I watch and study with wonder, All over the world have left me to ponder. How much loneliness want and despair, Is hidden in crowds, and how many care. Only the lonely know the cold of the air, Without the warmth of someone who cares. The feeling of oneness, alone on your own, The waiting for the seed of love to be sown. The sight through the crowd of young lovers embraced, To sense the warmth with which they