Long Run up Poems
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Part Two
Do you remember your run-up to the crease
your Lindwall-delivery dragging the clasping flannel round hobbled boots
your anger
at the wicket that went on a no-ball
Do you remember your opening bat
that snicked the runs to leg and off
which dozing umpires signalled as byes from pads
Do you remember Brigitte
her perky bobtail
her boucles of prancing hair
lances on her forehead
sickles on her verti-vir-ginous temples
Where are the bridges you have crossed
and those you had planned
and those you saw grow pebble by pylon and cementing stone
where the roads you laid
up virgin forest and limestone
Where indeed the buildings you repaired
erected
re-erected and razed
and the thousands and thousands of miles
you rode the wild seladang of the primeval jungle
hand on hump
with no stars in the paly night to guide you
through venomous blukar
and the boiling green torture
seared deep into your burning entrails
these that now have run out on you
Watch now how the river glues under your fuming stare
when the monsoon torrents sweep the knock-knee-ed pylons to a side
those dry as split-bark legs of yours
itching once too often in comforting company
though a little spindly for a Pied Piper
Yet you made the puppety Peninsula run
down drains and monsoon pipes
to a purge-full sea
Who is there now who wouldn't wake to your fits of irrupting gurgly merriment
to ease the tension
amongst unlikely fellows
Who who wouldn't miss your seething whiteheat glee
at his side
You who knew how to accompany Kay and Richard
up to the closed door of your last night
a very good night on your lips
Your opening bat's duty done
the side shored-up in safekeeping
the last fast breathless ball you faced
nicking the bails off
You needn't return to the pavilion
for the standing ovation goes on
for you Bala
long after the cloddy-stumps lie slain on the tiled floor
© T.Wignesan 1993 August 8, 1993 - Paris [from the collection: back to background material, 1993]
The Cooee-booroo was Irish, a migrant to this land,
who fled his native Galway and the grip of famine's hand.
For fifteen years he'd forged a life 'round Goulburn, New South Wales,
though sought his dream on Coopers Creek, out where the black man hails.
Where native Bootamurra folk for years were known to roam,
the place they called Thullung-gurra - their ancient tribal home.
Kyabra's unspoilt waterhole was home to fish and birds,
though Patsy Durack had in mind to bring his cattle herds.
'Twas here he met young Burrakin, a figure barely clad,
who claimed the man ... Boonari now ... to this young native lad.
Though Patsy called him Pumpkin ... much easier in the end
and like the humble vegetable he proved the bushman's friend.
For that proud Bootamurra youth, a whole new life began,
as Pumpkin loved the Durack folk and claimed them as his clan.
He watched them build their empire through the good times and the bleak;
for sixteen years he helped them build grass castles on the Creek.
When Patsy finally left the run to try the city’s fare,
he left old Pumpkin as head man and thought him better there.
Then Durack planned to build a run up in the Kimberleys:
an empire for his two young sons, a kind of legacy.
But Pumpkin yearned the company of Patsy, his dear friend
and left his old Kyabra home to join him in the end.
He stood by Patsy Durack till the old man passed away,
though stayed to keep the dream alive and rests there to this day.
These two Australian pioneers did leave a legacy-
the meaning of true brotherhood - as you can plainly see.
So whether you be white or black, do copy if you can,
the Cooee-booroo from Ireland and that Bootamurra man.
I have always enjoyed reading the early history of our Australian pioneers and the Durack
family certainly played their part in opening up this vast country. Sometimes the
seemingly minor characters, who become an integral part of that history, tend to fade
into insignificance with the passing of time. Characters such as Burrakin [Pumpkin] of
the Bootamurra people, whose life was completely changed by the coming of the Durack
family to Kyabra Ck. Burrakin's outstanding display of loyalty to his white brother,
Patsy Durack, is well worth remembering. My tribute to both men
You have been running around the world looking for a diamond girl; You have been running around the world making unfair investment and driving the interest right up to heaven.
You have stolen the gold from off shore and bury it beneath the dirt; you have crossed the line and interfere with the divine. The world is one big mass spinning around in a looking glass, it can see you from every angle and when the sun goes down and the moon rises up you will see your shadow on the wall.
You have been running around the world from Bahrain to Kuwait, knocking on every door and spilling oil on the gulf shore. You spend time romancing in the UAE in expensive hotel and mingling with young boys whose puberty is wrapped in keffiyeh on top of their head and marrying them off to innocent girls whose Virginity is stacked underneath their bed, and the old men seducing the pauper at gun point, with black tea and a jar of ice.
This morning I stood between the line and the divine piecing together the mystical trail that will get you over the rail, there is no imaginary line and I keep telling you that from time to time you have got to find the mouth of the cave that run through my grandfather land and track the connection with the gulf
.A tunnel is manmade but a cave is designed by nature to provide human shelter. It begins somewhere in Qatar and ends somewhere in the great mosque of Mecca, oh what great tragedy lies at the foot to the cave.
From the beginning of time the Arab were bold, they were skillful men with beautiful women and they had their work cut out for them. They were the best traders in town and they could build a castle on top of the mountain with a hammer and a stick and they could sweep you off your feet with their indigenous barging techniques.
They were skillful fighters and strong mountain divers; they knew the mountain like the back of my hands and they could run up and down the mountain in seconds and find peace in heaven but something went wrong when the Europeans invaded the Arabs.
They give them fifty-three for fifty-two and got a brand-new pair of shoes.
You have one more assignment to do before the mission is complete.
It was St. Patrick’s Day 2011, and all wasn’t
full of happy-go-lucky four-leaf clovers.
No, it wasn’t going to be a very cheerful day
after all.
She had been missing since New Year’s Eve.
That night of terror still rips apart my chest
when I remember the way my phone laid in
my hand not ringing.
I anticipated her phone call, yet deep inside
I knew I would never hear from her again.
I knew that day felt different.
Maybe it was the way the snow was finally
melting along the shore of the reverie that
rested outside my sill.
Maybe it was the changing of seasons that
March always brought that time of year.
I was invited out to go celebrate a day
full of green everything, but I just wasn’t
in the mood for fun anymore.
I had changed since she left and no one
understood why…except me.
So I did what I did best and laid on the bed
we used to laugh on.
I read old letters she wrote me and wrote
in a journal I had been keeping for the last
three months.
It was full of melancholic and sappy goodbyes,
remorseful regrets and yesterday’s sorrows.
Little did I know that night would be the night
that would change my life forever.
I heard the doorbell downstairs ring and my
heart raced.
It was like I already knew who it was and
what he wanted.
Too scared to move I just sat there listening
to the ring….ring…ring…
I looked at the clock on the old dresser and
saw it was 11:02 pm
For that would be the time I’d always
remember.
Each step downstairs I took slower than the
last knowing what I was about to hear.
I saw his silhouette on the front porch and
could see his apprehension.
As I opened the door all it took was one
look upon his face.
It was the detective.
The man who was in charge of searching
day after day and night after night for my
sister.
She was finally found lifeless under an old
Colorado Spruce Pine tree in front of a
fountain.
Time stopped, so did my beating heart.
For my life would never be the same again.
Sometimes when I look at the time and it
happens to be nine seventeen pm, I cry.
Chills run up my arms and through my veins
like that fountain she was lying under when
she took her final breath.
nineseventeenPM Contest
John Lawless
July 7, 2018
She always wore braids,
With beads on the ends.
She was tall for her age,
And we were best friends.
We walked together to school everyday,
Than after school, we’d go to her house and play.
But we always had to do our homework first,
Then we got to go and play in the dirt.
We did absolutely everything together.
Forever and always I will remember.
Like when we would run up the street,
To the 711 to get a blue slurpie.
Every Sunday, we’d have a barbeque,
And we’d fill our plates big enough for two.
One time she cut my hair really short,
And that haircut was never on the cover of vogue.
And one time her step dad had taken us fishing,
We had fun even though we didn’t catch anything.
We would pick out our clothes to dress just alike,
And after all that time we only hated each other twice,
We would always make up the very next day,
Our friendship is something that would always stay.
When you saw her, you always saw me,
And that’s the way it had to be.
Now this is a story that I dread to tell,
It all started when she rang my doorbell.
We were going to walk to school that day,
So we wouldn’t be late, we got on our way.
For some reason we were laughing uncontrollably,
You know, the kind of laughing that makes it hard to breathe.
I remember the smile on her face,
At that exact moment and at that exact place.
We laughed when we saw some boys running past,
Up until we heard a loud blast.
I stopped, and turned around and stared,
What I saw had made me very scared.
My mind went blank,
I felt my heart sink.
She was lying on the ground,
All I heard was my heart pound.
My mind was in a paralyzed state,
Her life was taken at the age of eight.
A drive by shooting caused in all,
The last thing I saw was watching her fall.
I stood there until my mom came and got me,
I can’t believe she died right in front of me.
There’s been a void in my heart ever since,
I miss the sleepovers and dressing like twins.
I think about what she could have become,
Her future and things she could have done.
Then I am forced to think of the past,
And how her life was taken so fast.
I wipe a tear away from my eye,
I had watched my best friend die.
I miss everything about my best friend,
Forever and always until the end.
Form:
She always wore braids,
With beads on the ends.
She was tall for her age,
And we were best friends.
We walked together to school everyday,
Than after school, we’d go to her house and play.
But we always had to do our homework first,
Then we got to go and play in the dirt.
We did absolutely everything together.
Forever and always I will remember.
Like when we would run up the street,
To the 711 to get a blue slurpie.
Every Sunday, we’d have a barbeque,
And we’d fill our plates big enough for two.
One time she cut my hair really short,
And that haircut was never on the cover of vogue.
And one time her step dad had taken us fishing,
We had fun even though we didn’t catch anything.
We would pick out our clothes to dress just alike,
And after all that time we only hated each other twice,
We would always make up the very next day,
Our friendship is something that would always stay.
When you saw her, you always saw me,
And that’s the way it had to be.
Now this is a story that I dread to tell,
It all started when she rang my doorbell.
We were going to walk to school that day,
So we wouldn’t be late, we got on our way.
For some reason we were laughing uncontrollably,
You know, the kind of laughing that makes it hard to breathe.
I remember the smile on her face,
At that exact moment and at that exact place.
We laughed when we saw some boys running past,
Up until we heard a loud blast.
I stopped, and turned around and stared,
What I saw had made me very scared.
My mind went blank,
I felt my heart sink.
She was lying on the ground,
All I heard was my heart pound.
My mind was in a paralyzed state,
Her life was taken at the age of eight.
A drive by shooting caused in all,
The last thing I saw was watching her fall.
I stood there until my mom came and got me,
I can’t believe she died right in front of me.
There’s been a void in my heart ever since,
I miss the sleepovers and dressing like twins.
I think about what she could have become,
Her future and things she could have done.
Then I am forced to think of the past,
And how her life was taken so fast.
I wipe a tear away from my eye,
I had watched my best friend die.
I miss everything about my best friend,
Forever and always until the end.
Form:
The option is depressing
Legal actions so arrested
the Mann
In the office was placed there by an all white caucus
Political ups and downs
Little children and small ghetto towns
the Mann
People have no word cuz you see the man make sure they're never heard
Oh, brother why do you cry
Mother there's no need to close your little brown eyes
Just because your sons and Vietnam
I'm sure he'll soon will you be back home
President Nixon will be soon to go to Russia
Little children beware or he'll bust you
What's the new deal I degrading McGovern repeals government seals
a man in the office
Was placed there I all white caucus
The Wallace shootings
Alabama's bruton's
the Mann
Just like the Kennedys Brothers and Dr King
All 4 of them, they had a dream
Just what am I trying to say
the Mann
Is in the black suit
He's passing bills so absolute
Congress that man make sure they're not hurt
the Mann
Shirley should decline on Muskie
He too is far behind
And Humphrey runs a close second
While mixing them McGovern run as close elected
the Mann
Who will be number one
Who will stop the war
And withdraw the guns
Nixon by November make a last withdrawal
We will be on a kind of Capitol Hill McGovern say marijuana's against the law
Wallace said busing when Weighing on his votes
And Shirley's running is a political joke
the Mann
Who will be number one
Who will stop the war and withdraw the guns crimes on the real the real thiefs
are real the Mann and other political bosses whose voice is back by guns it's the Mann trying to run to stop us
Edward Kennedy should he run I wonder
If even the lost the last of the Kennedys
Can't survive guns Thunder
And if you're really is my friend
--they were to run for president the world's coming to an end
the Man's in the office
Was placed there by an all-white caucus
the Mann
The option is depressing
Legal actions so arresting
the Mann
The offices was placed there by an all-white caucus
Run up and down little children
And small ghetto towns
The people have no word cuz you see the Mann
make sure
That they're not heard
7/21/74
Written word by James Edward Lee 1974, 2019
Sitting, watching my favorite fishing channel on TV,
Then I hear my wife screaming, calling out to me.
I run up the stairs, into the bathroom, a huge spider,
She stopped screaming and I saw what frightened her.
I was startled when I gawked at first glance,
Have you seen one this big? Don’t raise your hands all at once.
I took off my slipper and with a might thwack,
Hit the bugger right across its back.
It just stood there dazed; surely it must have felt pain,
I thought it had looked at me as if to say tickle me again.
I put on my thick rubber gloves and gave it another whack,
Quickly picked it up wrapped it in tissue, flushed it and that was that.
My wife was all over me, hey to nights the night,
I actually did something for once that was right.
She took her shower and beckoned me to the room,
I felt the same way as if I were a newly wed groom.
So I took my shower tarted myself up for the kill,
Killing that spider earned me brownie points, a good deal.
I put on my gown and looked in the mirror, combed the eye brows,
Then I saw it, bigger than one I killed the size of a turd from a cow.
It covered my head and it began to hiss,
This spider was a mother of a size and it was pissed.
I screamed not a the sight of it but what was to happen,
My wife had a 2x4 aiming for it, ready to clap him.
I moved forward toward the mirror, the spider saw itself and jumped to attack,
The 2x4 came down with force and hit me on the head and the back.
I fell toward the spider and screamed, it jumped in my mouth,
I passed out but before I did I felt it trying to head south.
I fell on the wash basin, my teeth scraped the bowl chopping it in two,
In my unconscious state my mouth began to chew
The ambulance driver thought the foam in my mouth was due to a cardiac arrest
So they gave me two thousand volts on the chest
I got up with a scream, spat the **** end of the spider that made me choke
It stuck to the ambulance driver’s nose which I then broke
This happened at such a fast pace
Now I had my head stitched up and I’ve been done for GBH
Ps. I am still waiting to get some Love
© 2000
It’s good to be a cowboy,
just ask my old friend Dane,
who spends his days riding
across the Texas plains,
working for a big ranch,
he cuts, lassos, and herds,
brings them in at round-up,
brands them all in turn.
Works out in the sunshine,
rides hard for his pay,
heads on down to Randy’s
for a drink at close of day.
the bartender there always
shows his picture to cowgirls,
Dane’s a local legend,
on raging bulls he’s twirled.
Some women try to tame him,
one day one might succeed,
but right now he’s just happy
giving them what they need.
It’s good to be a cowboy,
just ask my buddy Bill,
he grew up loving westerns,
I guess he always will.
He loves the boots and hats,
even owns a bolo tie,
if it weren’t for those old movies
he’d have never learned to ride.
Takes trail-rides with his children
out in the country air,
keeps them from their cell-phones,
builds memories to spare.
Takes them to wild west shows,
where old time ballads ring,
doesn’t take much prodding
before the kids start to sing.
It’s good to be a cowboy,
just ask our sheriff Max,
even when out on the job
he still wears a white hate.
Some say that his dark skin
makes the cowboy-look strange,
forgetting all those freed slaves
that once rode the range.
But Max doesn’t give a whit,
he’s an honest, weathered soul,
and every year he dresses up
for the town police festival.
He puts on all his cowboy duds,
plays the old west lawman,
the kids all run up to him
making finger-guns with hand,
But those buckaroos are quick,
he’s never outdrawn a one,
but it’s enough for the sheriff
to see the tykes having fun.
It’s good to be a cowboy,
just ask ol’ Jimmy-Ray,
living down in sunny Georgia,
his feet in the red clay.
he’s never even rode a horse,
but the don't bothered him,
the cowboy code is his bible,
you can see it in his grin.
He’s quite the man of honor,
and will always treat your fair
in his hometown barbecue
if you ever do eat there.
He’s polite to the ladies,
looks each man in the eye,
on days off in his straw hat
his ATV he rides.
He stays loyal to one woman,
his great pride and his joy,
to her he’ll always tip his hat,
it’s good to be a cowboy.
Gripped by the throat with tension
Mad aggression pumping thru my veins
Changing my complexion
Pressing thru the world of small selections
Fencing off the other feelings of oppression
And while I'm resting
I don't wanna wake
But once my eyes open no time to hesitate
To much bullshyt to escape
It's not like I was born with a cape
And even when matters are crazy but I refuse
Not to be great
I refuse not to turn the hands of fate
And make the universe concave my way
Been a struggle since birth
Trying to live with these lies
Told even since I put the me in time
And now I got a family that's mine
And I must throw away all pride
And keep the dream that I breathe life to alive
Hungry for what's never told was mine
And told all the things that are above my level
That's fine
Sit and watch as I not climb but claw to the top
Kick scream and holla at the stars
That like to play against the odds
Of the campaign of my cause
Causing me to fall
Causing me to look forward and back to remember where I came from
Causing me to wayward this and carry on
For that's all I know
That's all that anyone been telling me
How I'm wrong
How I'm slow
How I'm the one that love doing it the hard way yo
How I'm the one that will fall flat on my face
Lose my place
Lose the initiative in which I started this whole thing
Have me missing my template
But they don't see I'm God sent
Regardless
Of all the bullshyt curse words and bombardment
I will be in undeniable
Came far from where it was that I begin
Even with snow storms and hail pours I'm destined to win
Even if I'm straight drowning in gin
And gasoline was part of the triathlon that I had to swim
The king is crazy
So for my babies I will swim
I will seek opportunity
Watch it put away it's jewelry
Sit back maniacally
Schematic the whole the place
Plottingly
Run up n the place also smiling
With no gun on the waist demolishing
Any and everything
That's my plan
To overstand
And not undermine what my mind will conceive
For it's what I can grasp in my hand
The whole damn planet
Water sky clouds and granite
And if too much for me to hold
Just u watch me manage......peace