Poems begining by T

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Travelling on the thumb

© Ivan Donn Carswell

Travelling on the thumb, it wasn’t hard to do, you took
the rides that you could get with no regrets – let shrinkage
in the mileage to your goal provide your measures of success,
strode the grassy verges thumb erect and cursed the surly

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Travellers Whom We Met

© Ivan Donn Carswell

Another fork away ahead
Exactly like the one behind
And twists and turns to leave you dead
As choices in your mind.

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Tools for life

© Ivan Donn Carswell

Has life ever dumped you in a heap?
Perhaps you’ve found self belief so strongly
reinforcing that doubt never enters it,
nor divorces you from your own reality.

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Table Song

© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

O'ER me-how I cannot say,-

Heav'nly rapture's growing.

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Today

© Ivan Donn Carswell

The manic fires flared again today, very much the same irrational urges
blazing from the open grate, urgent fervours that belittle and berate,
ardours that depict a gross mistake and derisively debate
hereditary intelligence. While surely lacking relevance,

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"’Tis An Old Tale And Often Told"

© Frances Anne Kemble

Are they indeed the bitterest tears we shed

  Those we let fall over the silent dead?

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To win a game

© Ivan Donn Carswell

How do you win a football game? Not by skill alone or clever plays,
in modern days the game has changed and subterfuge and actors
ways will pave the path to glory. Fitness pays a fair reward to keep
a fleetness in the feet, a clearness in the head, and special food

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To risk your Liberty

© Ivan Donn Carswell

Called The Hon ‘Lizard Gizzard’ with aptness bearing fruit
from his septic yellow face to his pinstripe business suit,
famous for avowals starting, “Government Approved,
‘and in relation to’…” delivered deadpan monotone, eyes
a distant, washed-out hue – quartered in a trance.

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To A Sea-Gull

© Arthur Symons

Bird of the fierce delight,
Brother of foam as white
And winged as foam is,
Wheeling again from flight
To some unfooted height
Where your blithe home is;

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To let them die peace

© Ivan Donn Carswell

There wasn’t room for sympathy,
the epicentre moved too rapidly for that
and even when we knew the anger
of the dispossessed the storm had passed.

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To keep the ambience alive

© Ivan Donn Carswell

When you thanked me for the day I felt ashamed,
I couldn’t say it wasn’t much because it was for you,
I had enjoyed it too although it was another day
like any other day we’ve had before in our association.

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To Henrietta Lyn

© Ivan Donn Carswell

We're going to miss you little girl, you leave an aching space
way out of all proportion to your size. Tomorrow we must face the day
without your lavish greeting - without your urgent bark to wake us up
and say, "Let me out of here, the sun is up, I want to play."

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Time to play

© Ivan Donn Carswell

It is a pristine page, clean on the blue screen
where I compose, I don’t expect it to stay that way
as words glow from blunt, abused fingers, as insistent
sounds in my head translate into sentence structures,

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Tickets to the game

© Ivan Donn Carswell

I asked my Dad about the War when I was very young,
he said it happened a long, long time ago
and a long, long way away, he seemed a little vague
on the subject so I relented, I thought he hadn’t attended.

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Thought it was America

© Ivan Donn Carswell

Is there anything which isn’t made in China?
The answer is… of course there is, the question
was rhetorical, a crude attempt to palliate
China’s late renaissance; eighty years ago you’d say
that nothing was – or nothing much that
mattered was, and still been wrong.

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This Window is

© Ivan Donn Carswell

This window is confidence,
documenting proceedings,
capturing moments,
cleansing views

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This House Which Is Lived In

© Ivan Donn Carswell

This house which is lived in resounds
with the chorus of voices bound in the press
of its generous, unconcealed blessings;
affection is neither distressed nor restrained,

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Thinking of an Afterlife

© Ivan Donn Carswell

When was the beginning,
in the fertilising, in the flower,
or was it deeper,
in the earth beneath?

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The Cup of Life

© Archibald Lampman

One after one the high emotions fade;
  Time's wheeling measure empties and refills
  Year after year; we seek no more the hills
That lured our youth divine and unafraid,

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The Waipakihi

© Ivan Donn Carswell

Access Road Fifteen they named it
this anonymous road to the Waipakihi
where its brawling water becomes Tongariro.
A moment’s journey across a horizon
anchored in haze-ridden Taupomoana
distanced, but jewelled in my thoughts.