Best Reluctant Poems
I’m so nervous, it’s that time again
Gotta get ready, go out there and shine, shine, shine!
And I don’t have much say over WHAT I’ll look like,
The most I can do is drop a bead here or there
Speaking of beads, here they come, boxes full of them
You just know, they’ll over do again this year!
It’s ok for me; I’m an old fashioned tree
But some of the balls and ornaments are heavy!
OUCH, watch those hooks, please!
I really shouldn’t complain, all I really must do is stand still
But then, there are the lights!
And as much as I like getting LIT at holiday time,
I pay for it, believe me, droopy boughs, dropped needles,
Especially if I don’t drink enough water!
But, not to get too sappy, it’s all worth it in the end
All the apprehension melts away when I see their faces
So on we go, let’s do it, let’s make new memories,
I am ready for my star!
Let’s give‘em a Christmas, they’ll never forget
I s’pose you've heard of Tamworth and the shindig there each year,
where country music reigns supreme and all its stars appear.
They’re in the pubs and all the clubs and arcades 'round the town
and Peel Street is just full of pics all strumming up and down.
In years of late another breed of artists have appeared;
Bush Poets with their rhyming verse, who are now quite revered.
The Longyard and Imperial pubs and Leagues Club host a few,
while golf and bowls clubs house more mobs and Peel street has them too.
It happens that I'm one of them and have for six straight years
performed to folk my style of verse - The Laughter and the Tears.
You make them cry, you make them laugh, you keep your tales true blue,
for that is what the folk demand: be Aussie through and through.
Most folk they see us poets as the ocker type of bloke
and know we see line dancing as some kind of flamin' joke.
They stream to Tamworth each year and stretch out along Peel street.
These hordes of blokes and sheilas with their fancy prancin' feet.
They’re shapes and sizes are diverese, no two frames look the same,
with fancy shirts embroidered with the place from hence they came.
They tuck their thumbs behind their belts then line up in a row
and when the music kicks on in they boot scoot to and fro.
Each year they have this ritual, that really is a bore;
They try to break the record they procured the year before.
Like locusts they assemble and I watch them with disdain
'cause surely they've got Buckley's chance of doing it again.
[CONTINUED]
#3 on best new poems list as of 5/6/2025
in church
watching the chocolate eyes
of the beautiful
but not proverbial blushing bride
I am chilled by this childish union
choking on
bitterness and broken inside
To preach to Ninevah was not his wish -
So sailing west, the prophet disobeyed.
When God appointed wind and storm and fish
To punish, teach, and save him, Jonah prayed:
"I called out to the Lord in my distress,
I cried for help from deep within my grave.
With songs of great thanksgiving will I bless
Your name. You answered me - I know you save.”
Then preaching holy wrath, he watched the city
From low to high repent and seek the Lord.
God showered all with mercy, love, and pity
Then Jonah's faith he patiently restored.
Three days; salvation; grace; all intertwine
As Christ's prophetic resurrection sign.
Her silken hair fell over her stunning gown.
The gossamer veil cascaded down.
Her sadness she tried to hide.
Bright eyes opened wide.
She beguiled.
Bride.
Falsely smiled.
To tell him, she tried.
Her love was never implied.
Tiara jeweled as a queen’s crown.
Her silken hair fell over her stunning gown.
But somehow they have done it and you can't help but admire,
the pluck of these boot scootin' folk ... they never seem to tire.
This year the faithful came again though couldn't help but doubt,
no matter how they wanted to their run of luck was out.
The M.C. kept on calling out, "All register now please.
If we don't keep the record folks it could go overseas."
The comment cut just like a knife. I thought, “you man or mouse?”
'Cause, what if they were just one short? You'd really feel a louse.
The more the M.C. made his plea the more it gnawed at me,
until I cracked and ran on up and paid the flamin' fee.
I stuck my ticket on my shirt and joined the middle row
and wished they'd kick the music off and get on with the show.
My biggest fear was if my mates were watching in the crowd.
They'd never let me live it down. The M.C. cried out loud.
"It's time folks," and the music played. I thought I'd take a punt
and pranced along by following the tall chick there in front.
Then when the music stopped at last I made a quick retreat,
relieved that I had not been seen boot scootin' in the street.
We broke the record once again and felt real good deep down,
but please don't tell me poet mates - they'd run me out of town!
Each year as I've sat in front of Grace Bros. Store at the Tamworth Country Music
Festival, performing our show and selling our product, I have observed the ritual of
bootscooters gathering in Peel Street to break the record for the largest number of
bootscooters gathered in one place. A record they have broken annually for some years now
in the Guinness Book of Records. Each year I have grappled with the thought - what if
they were short by one? - so I had to tell the story.
Diogenes sought an honest man,
appalled by Man's path to destruction.
And searched Athens by lantern at night,
casting light on lies and corruption.
He concluded his search was in vain,
for Man's integrity could be bought.
And His willingness to sell His soul,
showed an honest man was vainly sought.
As the hungry specter of Greed feeds,
Its appetite achieves no relief.
And circumvents inconvenient truths,
under the guise of a shared belief.
Although Man can discern right from wrong:
His mettle has tarnished over time.
And after having fallen so far,
He's broken and reluctant to climb.
U~nbidden, the draft was upon me,
N~ewly turned from the halls of high school.
I~nspired by the Vets at the legion,
T~o enlist and become Uncle's tool.
E~xpecting to serve with distinction,
D~ogma served warm and fresh to a fool.
S~ent off as a man-child to Asia,
T~o enroll in a myopic war,
A~nd line pockets of war profiteers;
T~ransfer bleeding from wealthy to poor.
E~verything that I learned in that conflict
S~ent the message to soldier no more.
A~nd finding no reason for staying,
R~ealized that my motive and drive,
M~y labor was chosen to ensure
Y~oung soldiers would return home alive.
THE RELUCTANT GUEST
Not proof against the pricks disdained
By the broad impact of petty phil-
Osophy, but sundered when our passions rained
Over our heads, when wish invaded will,
I am part neighbour in this shire of doubt,
That keeps me tenant on the promised crowd
Which you waggishly say will never rout
The insane longing to impact with loud
Music the harmony of sense. Yet I fear
The submerged faculty of my wavering power
Is grief to you, a crutch for every tear,
That springs between us, to endower
Your raving optimist’s cry that you’re a help,
To such as me, a miserable poor whelp.
Embarrassing moments .. oh I guess we’ve all had a few
But this is one is so memorable so I will share it with you!
My hubby had become friends with Dave through work
and we had been invited for a Chinese meal with him and his girlfriend
I had never met them before and was a little bit nervous
The restaurant we went to was very posh
Dave and Tracey had eaten there the week before
We all got on like a house on fire and laughed all night
The conversation flowed, as did the wine.
We had a delicious meal and it was then time to order dessert
Banana fritters were on the menu, my mouth watered at the thought
Oh I simply adore banana fritters drizzled with golden syrup
We all agreed to have the same dessert
Dave’s eyes lit up and he called the waiter over
he ordered ‘banana fritter specials’ …
winked at the waiter and they both laughed
We continued chatting whilst we waited for our desserts to arrive
Suddenly the other diners went quiet and then they started to laugh
I turned round to see two waiters striding across the room
Each carrying two plates with our desserts
Yes banana fritters …
but not like I had EVER witnessed before or since
The banana had been cooked with two ‘dough balls’ one on either side
and had been arranged on the plate so that the banana was ‘upright’
A blob of cream at the top of the banana fritter completed the effect
By the time this phallic pudding was placed in front of me
my face was as red as a tomato and I was crying with laughter.
I wanted the floor to open up and engulf me
I was so embarrassed as everyone was laughing at us
Somehow we all managed to eat our desserts
It was the best banana fritter I’ve ever tasted -
and definitely the most memorable!
We became great friends with Dave and Tracey
but never went back to that restaurant again
This happened in 1991 and is a 100% true story!
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The wife plans a spree to buy all
With husband on board at the mall
But as this takes place
He just looks for a space
To sit on a bench in the hall
Confinement is too much of an excuse
while the papers are spread across the table.
The phone rings:
It is the Boston Massacre.
Those are funny words when even here,
even at this time of wind,
overuse is deadly in the wheat germ.
Mice droppings show evidence
that the wheat is defiled.
Be careful, she said,
Be careful of the worms that drill inside.
The cat knows;
she is wise and stretches.
Words connected in my brain
are tenuous indeed,
ephemeral.
Read them and you will know my
building blocks
all scattered across the floor
as my papers are scattered now.
Put the right words in the search box
and you will find me.
Try it.
Lay down the common law,
and unroll it like an old rug
once stored and forgotten.
(What am I doing here in this cold
and desolate winter?)
Feed me building blocks of amino acids,
the healing of the wound.
Comfort me.
It's Insanity
I'm not ready
how could they think I was
I'm not ready for the world
to leave it all behind just cause
I'm not ready to move on
to tell all I love good bye
I'm not ready to graduate
will someone tell me why?
why does it have to end
especially so soon
I'm to young to be on my own
please tell me what to do
18 is not that old at all
to grow up and be an adult
to have a job and pay my bills
I know nothing of that stuff
please somebody help me
there has to be a way
school is all I've ever known
I won't be ready on graduation day
A Reluctant Farewell
And so reluctantly I leave you
For how long we're both unsure
But I take with me my memories
To cherish forever more.
« She must suffer to her last breath. (…) They’ll all soon be as Dead as 0-Ren Ishii. »
« That woman deserves her Revenge. And we deserve to die. »
From « Kill Bill Vol. 1 »
I
Two French girls in Paris
one aged thirteen
the other fourteen
together take wing.
The police bring them back home.
Then hand-in-hand they jump
from their seventeenth floor flat.
They leave behind a note :
« This life has nothing to offer.
What are we living for ? »
An Austrian socialist philosopher-journalist in Paris
in perfect physical health
lies down beside his terminally ailing English wife
never to wake again together
after bequeathing their papers and wealth
not to the Socialist Party
but to a Catholic charity.
He leaves behind a long love letter
his very last remember-me book.
Till death does not do us part.
A Stateless poet passes through Paris
with his Spanish putative spouse
and infant boy.
Paris casts a covetous eye on the mother.
She plans the poet’s murder
and maims her son for life.
The People’s protectors pressgang her
and daily pound the poet to pulp.
Vive ! la France ! Viva ! la Francia !
II
A lone coyote trumpets over the sakura strewn snow
A moanful flute tugs at nostalgic heartstrings
Meiko Kaji comes on with her plaintive lilt :
Urami yibushi
We’ve not long to go in this void
The still frozen air gasps through swishing slices
Spurting Strüwel-Peter blood and bones
cherry blossoms on the snow-clad parapet
struck down by the lethally-chilled sheen
of the Hattori Hanzo steel
To kill there need be no will
The will to kill resides in the sill
of the vengeful white of the eye
III
Even if we can’t stand it any longer, Lady
We’d rather not leave just yet in a hurry
Would we see the likes of this world again
Ever know what’s better than this domain
Unknown to us the slow melodious dirge
Tugs at us : stay yet a while, it whispers !
Who knows who’d be there to receive us
Yes, yes, stay yet a while, little lady !
Hum a sentimental ditty
Recall even a fated memory
Revive some moments of levity :
A friend a face an outing
A little tenderness
A tiny moment of harmony
Together in this wilderness
© T. Wignesan – Paris November 14 2007 (Rev. 2012)
From: T. Wignesan
Copyright ©: T. Wignesan – Paris November 14, 2007 (Rev. 2012)