A bottle
With a message for world
inside it
Washes up in a see- through bay
Ever so slowly subsidise into
it's golden sand by the lapping
tide
Wishes only to be seen and to
fulfill it's journey or mission
The only question is will it be
found in time
Categories:
subsidise, slam,
Form: Free verse
Is owning a house the uppermost treasure?
Or the ultimate car, designed for our pleasure?
Are jewels your most desirable need?
Or plenty of gold to subsidise greed?
Is a holiday home a much needed asset?
Or private jet the privileged facet?
Is stacking accounts with plenty of money,
your equivalent to the bee with its honey?
There are those in life who have all of these things,
who question the happiness that it brings,
for we enter this life with only our breath,
returning all our belongings upon our death.
Categories:
subsidise, happiness, psychological,
Form: Rhyme
"I shall be telling this with a sigh"
Robert Frost
Mother's Moody Blues
When she’s tired, she’s moody,
Can be dangerous as well.
Gives looks enough to kill us,
Yes, she really gives us hell.
She shouts and says she works hard,
Then cleans house, and has to cook.
Says, none of us would give a damn,
If we lived in our lives in muck.
She also goes to work now,
Needs to subsidise our way.
Since I got made redundant,
And now get lower pay.
She trundles through the kitchen,
And stamps her way up stairs.
She shouts and moans and groans a lot,
Says, no one really cares.
We sit here saying nothing
It’s safer much that way.
’Cause if we dare to say a word
She’d really make us pay.
She’ll get up in the morning.
To start another day.
But then because she’s rested,
She’ll be happy, nice and gay.
She really is a lovely mum,
A wife and grandma too.
And if we ever lost her,
We would not know what to do.
Its only when she’s tired,
That we're careful what we say,
And even then we love her lots,
But... stay out of her way!
Ivor G Davies
Categories:
subsidise, mother,
Form: Rhyme
Squatter Jack
have you lived awhile in west Queensland,
out in the red soil dust,
where the crows will pick your eyes out and,
bore water is a must,
have you seen a thin and starving cow,
not a blade of grass to eat,
the timber`s gone no Mulga now......(13% protein in leaves)
just the deadly summer heat,
the squatter flogged his paddocks out,
too many cattle there,
he thought good seasons were about,
but we know they are rare,
so now he tears his hair out,
and cries poor bloody me.
we`ll have to subsidise the lout
when he whines so publicly
the old cow bogged in the dam today
and there she`ll likely lie
the crows will take her eyes away
before she gets to die
scrub Mulga`s tucker in a drought (Mulga tree)
on the bushy limbs they`ll thrive
where some mugs had it bulldozed out
no cattle left alive
then the rain it comes after years of drought
and the grass is green and sweet
they`ll forget the bad times have no doubt
till dead cows are flyblown meat.
by D H Johnson.
Categories:
subsidise, adventure
Form: Rhyme