Fear poems
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Partisanship and politics
© Ivan Donn Carswell
Were I not a patriot, which of course I am, I would explain
just how the term remains a sticking point within my craw,
how it contains a core of prudish mockery, dissembles jingoistic
claims. But I am and not ashamed. I love the land, the people
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.
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
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.
Why England Is Conservative
© Alfred Austin
Because of our dear Mother, the fair Past,
On whom twin Hope and Memory safely lean,
It seldom snowed, they said - Part I
© Ivan Donn Carswell
It seldom snowed, they said, it might get cold but it wont be snow;
well, one should guess the locals know the weather best and I was new,
so when I left the warmth of the limited express and descended onto
a dimly lit, deserted siding I was not impressed to find the ground at
It is an abhorrent thing
© Ivan Donn Carswell
It is an abhorrent thing, this incarceration of your vulnerability,
profoundly cruel in the way you were beaten
to your knees, blithely unaware it was a battle lost
for your health and wellbeing. It was dreadful to witness
If democratically elected
© Ivan Donn Carswell
What is it with Hezbollah
representing barely 15%
of the Lebanese Parliament
living outside the government
I Mark Your Courage
© Ivan Donn Carswell
I had no profound feelings of shock or surprise
to those matter-of-fact revelations
which spelled the end of this chapter of your life.
It was, as you put it, too late for recriminations,
and the horrendous realities could be no worse
for having faced them.
Touched my family
© Ivan Donn Carswell
Even from afar came shouts of recognition
joyful voices rang across the years disdained and
faces of our childhood unforgot fit instantly familiar names;
voices still the same despite the extra grey, the extra lines,
Futurelessness
© Ivan Donn Carswell
Time to count the torrid cost of careless words inflicted on
your battered dignity, time to close the ugly face that chanted
out invective foul and shattered amity, time to quell
the fervid rush of feckless wrath which weighs
against the bloodied loss this manic madness brusque
and hot has flung across the face of sanity.
Maran-Milan (Death-Wedding)
© Rabindranath Tagore
Why do you speak so softly, Death, Death,
Creep upon me, watch me so stealthily?
Every Time I laugh Aloud (An Ode to Short People)
© Ivan Donn Carswell
Every time I laugh aloud, who springs to mind but Johnnie Howard?
Cathartic laughter eases stress which Johnnie causes in excess,
so when I hum acerbic lines of Randy Newmans quirky song
dont want no short people round here,
Burns
© Charles Harpur
MY OWN WILD BURNS! these rude-wrought rhymes of thine
In golden worth are like the unshapely coin
Of some new realm, yet pure as from the mine
And Art may well be spared with such alloy
As dims the bullion to improve the die!
The Riding Of The Rebel
© William Henry Ogilvie
And the boys were dumb with wonder, and sat, and the Red Creek overseer
Was first to drop from the stockyard fence and give him a hearty cheer.
He raised his hat in answer and --- the golden hair floated free!
And the blue eyes lit with laughter as she shouted merrily:
"You can reach me down my bridle, give my girths and saddle back,
For the outlaw of Glenidol is a broken lady's hack!"
Dead mans clothes
© Ivan Donn Carswell
Growing up, I propose,
is like wearing a dead mans clothes.
Death has a way of levelling the ground.
I have found the closer your relationship
Courage is a motherless lamb
© Ivan Donn Carswell
For a small child crossing the pen alone was a courageous feat,
occasionally, with a maniacal bleat, the wether would burst from cover
and butt whomever graced his yard. He meant it in fun, something
he had done since his bottle-fed youth, he knew no other form of greeting.
Cherry bomb
© Ivan Donn Carswell
I said goodbye and went to bed to die;
I never knew that they had lied was quite
surprised they didnt seem to care, I agonised,
refused to cry although in time the tears
The New Year
© George MacDonald
Be welcome, year! with corn and sickle come;
Make poor the body, but make rich the heart:
What man that bears his sheaves, gold-nodding, home,
Will heed the paint rubbed from his groaning cart!
The Wandering Pilgrim
© Matthew Prior
Will Piggot must to Coxwould go,
To live, alas! in want,
Unless Sir Thomas say, No, no,
Th' allowance is too scant.
