Smile poems

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Sweetness Of The Decent Night

© Ivan Donn Carswell

They talked to me again today, they spoke in gentle tones
and said the things I ought to hear then lead me where
the frangipani flowered; they said the heady scent was meant
to soothe the wicked wounds I wore, to ease the twisted scars

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Silvered In The Dying Light

© Ivan Donn Carswell

Silvered in the dying light she lies
a silent sleeping twinkle coloured Eve
who heaves and breathes a sinuous sigh
beneath her oiled and shimmering skin.

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The Forlorn

© James Russell Lowell

The night is dark, the stinging sleet,
  Swept by the bitter gusts of air,
Drives whistling down the lonely street,
  And glazes on the pavement bare.

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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

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It seldom snowed – Part III

© Ivan Donn Carswell

It seldom snowed they said, and they were nearly right. In all of nine eventful
seasons crystal white on average graced the place just twice a year. A smaller
fall, an over-night preceded heavy snow. And heavy snow remained a week,
blocked drains and closed the Desert Road; but no complaints, our children

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In soothing, sweetened words

© Ivan Donn Carswell

No, she said, I never knew it was your first. It doesn’t
matter anyway. I always had an inkling that we’d find
a way. And then we did. I’m glad about it just for that.
Whether it was good or bad, or would have happened

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Ellen McJones Aberdeen

© William Schwenck Gilbert

MACPHAIRSON CLONGLOCKETTY ANGUS McCLAN
Was the son of an elderly labouring man;
You've guessed him a Scotchman, shrewd reader, at sight,
And p'r'aps altogether, shrewd reader, you're right.

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Colonel Fazackerley Butterworth-Toast

© Charles Causley

Colonel Fazackerley Butterworth-Toast
Bought an old castle complete with a ghost,
But someone or other forgot to declare
To Colonel Fazak that the spectre was there.

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Bannerman of the Dandenong

© Alice Werner

I rode through the Bush in the burning noon,
  Over the hills to my bride, -
The track was rough and the way was long,
And Bannerman of the Dandenong,
  He rode along by my side.

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The Nativity

© William Cowper

Upon my meanness, poverty, and guilt,
The trophy of thy glory shall be built;
My self–disdain shall be the unshaken base,
And my deformity its fairest grace;
For destitute of good, and rich in ill,
Must be my state and my description still.

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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,

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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.

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Free from intrusion

© Ivan Donn Carswell

You awaken this time with a welcoming smile, an experience
sublime, not a dream – the boner from Hell
has presented itself like a prospect of fate, and reasoned
debate be damned, you’ll argue its merits later.

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For Harry (My College Room-mate who Died)

© Ivan Donn Carswell

He cut his hand and it bled, the flesh
inside was red and the hurt discounted the flood
of red and vibrant blood that pulsed
from the wound. But he was a warrior,

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Ekka

© Ivan Donn Carswell

The Ekka institution bares us all, though call it Exhibition, Royal
Queensland Show, it’s that time of year when you will go in
liberal spirit where the spectacle of fantasies escrow.

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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!" 

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Colours in lamplight

© Ivan Donn Carswell

Colours in lamplight are previews,
scarcely eschewed as wave-length turbulence
tuned to closeness and friendship.
Colours in firelight are skin-warmed

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Cappuccino smile

© Ivan Donn Carswell

Ah, the aromas of that conversation,
the brimming, cappuccino smile
swirled in chocolate rich and cinnamoned,
the gentle coffee curlicues interlaced

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The Reply Of The Fountain

© Letitia Elizabeth Landon

HOW deep within each human heart,
A thousand treasured feelings lie;
Things precious, delicate, apart,
Too sensitive for human eye.

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Bitter sweet

© Ivan Donn Carswell

The events
of September 11th
2001 remain bitter sweet;
as well as 2973 innocents