Car poems
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Woodstock Park
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Here in a little rustic hermitage
Alfred the Saxon King, Alfred the Great,
On your birthday, today,
© Ivan Donn Carswell
On your birthday, today, there is time to reflect
On the essence of our intimacy,
From a beginning in the spring-tide of youth
To an afterward secured in the distant mist,
On The Death of a Father
© Ivan Donn Carswell
This dismal place I hide my grief is crowded shame,
my father would have taught me tame my trembling lips
without contempt, face far constraints tight-lipped,
remain serene; I dream how well I played his silent game.
Olmecs rule
© Ivan Donn Carswell
The news is out, down Veracruz they found the evidence,
Olmecs had the written word 400 years before Sumerians.
A Chinese claim predates all that, but let it rest.
Examine what it means to Mesoamericans!
Of Such Simplicity
© Ivan Donn Carswell
You and me,
the proof is there to see,
our lives are held within the spell of great simplicity,
were free of all the shadows dwelling in the hall,
Nothing ever is the same
© Ivan Donn Carswell
Gnashing teeth,
a grinding meet
of molars crashing
cuspid on cuspid
None is spared your handsome smile
© Ivan Donn Carswell
The mystery of a smile that glows within your eyes
and is framed in an innocent countenance
passes not unheeded.
Those transient's hallway smiles and greetings offered through your door
No way of going back
© Ivan Donn Carswell
It was my life in fast review, initially at double speed
until I learned which functions scrolled the images
on screen. I could pause, freeze frame advance,
endlessly replay and alter sound although the thing
No further slice of me
© Ivan Donn Carswell
Enduring an inguinal hernia repair can
drive you to despair, it is a monumental
nonsense; in my defence I hadnt lived
through one before, couldnt be sure
Composed At The Same Time And On The Same Occasion
© William Wordsworth
I DROPPED my pen; and listened to the Wind
That sang of trees uptorn and vessels tost--
A midnight harmony; and wholly lost
To the general sense of men by chains confined
No conscience in escape
© Ivan Donn Carswell
Should you be allowed sole privilege
of unconscionable martyrdom?
This affliction is self-pity brought by suffering
as penitent to unrequited lust.
Nights sentinel
© Ivan Donn Carswell
Even tonight will pass into memorys oblivion,
doomed, despite an ardent reunion
of once estranged yet precisely matched parts,
to a guiltless verdict a foregone conclusion.
My enemy my friend
© Ivan Donn Carswell
My enemy my friend
whom I know without compromise,
when I listened to the
deconstructions avowed of you
Mountains of Delight
© Ivan Donn Carswell
The problem was the manner of choice
(or whether there was a choice for that matter)
as you had taken those options to yourself,
choosing as you had to do, and as it was right for you,
there is no shame in that and no reproving,
but my alternatives were emptied by your doing.
Mornings Reflections
© Ivan Donn Carswell
Were meetings predestined then ours was intended,
great oracles decreed it as fate, and the auguries chattered
with sweet benefactors and fêted to chance with a face.
We were then both separate and free in our choosing
Moocooboola Dam
© Ivan Donn Carswell
For more than a billion years weve been
nearly out of water; sincerely, a need repeatedly
exposed in calamitous reports of the tragic-comic sort
glibly cognising a collective we as the principle cause
Men with trivial scars
© Ivan Donn Carswell
We wear scars from our youth, trifling things
reflecting those earnings from growing days,
of battles raised and wounds worn in simple
praise of a Spring of early learnings.
Love stopped before it began
© Ivan Donn Carswell
It would have been love, I am sure of it,
and I held her hand torn between concern and pride
whilst she cried and cried on her first day at school.
Lethargy of leaden wings
© Ivan Donn Carswell
Sure, I sip my lemon tea with spoon of amber honey,
trying to decide which things to do, things I didnt need
to think about before this day, praying for the strength
to ride these doldrums out, to see them to their squalid end.
Lake Otamangakau
© Ivan Donn Carswell
II Awake, aware in tented night,
a flax bush shuffled glissé tread
of frond on frond and seed-pod prattle
marching on the fractious wind
surrounds the tent, and lake, and night.
