Details |
Warren Mbaht Poem
I tell a tale of younger days
When I was just a kid
I went to school in war time
As many others did
We would collect the shrapnel
From the big guns overnight
Most shells missed their target
But would still cause aircrews fright
Maybe on our way to school
A house a smoking wreck
We were not allowed to close
To see we'd crane our neck
The bombers came in waves at night
We didn't get much sleep
Scant room inside that concrete box
Jammed like a mob of sheep
The all clear goes it's back to bed
And then to rise again
The German aircraft overhead
And down the bombs would rain
I lived in Highbury at the time
Where guns fired to the sky
Both sides tried to kill or maim
I often wondered why
Even now I'm older
I still don't understand
Why humans are so agro
And can't live hand in hand
Is it just the Makers way
To make our numbers fall
We have no other predators
It really is our call
I hope that when I've left this earth
Intelligence will reign
We will control our populations
And not need war again
There will be no little children
With gas mask in a pack
See such death and destruction
On their way to school and back
Copyright © Warren Mbaht | Year Posted 2022
|
Details |
Warren Mbaht Poem
Driving home from work one day
The traffic makes it slow
Check the cars beside me
As they travel to and fro
One minute I am out in front
The next I'm well behind
To find a chance of romance
Is so far from my mind
My interest is triggered
By a driver by my side
On his own as I am
It is a lonely ride
He glances from his window
Sees interest in my gaze
Little does he really know
I have seductive ways
I brush my hair and flutter eyes
Accelerate away
He thinks I may be gone for good
But it is all just play
I let my car fall back behind
His mirror I do fill
Follow his rear bumper
Then bend him to my will
He pulls into a servo
With me coming in behind
Wonders am I interested
Something he will shortly find
He starts a conversation
I just let him dig a hole
I will surely be the captor
As always was my goal
His aim, to make a date with me
I make to brush him off
My lashes give the game away
And a small seductive cough
I have to keep my secrets
I never kiss and tell
Only one thing he could do
Surrender to my spell
Copyright © Warren Mbaht | Year Posted 2022
|
Details |
Warren Mbaht Poem
A grizzly isn't really, as bad as he's made out
He wanders round the parklands, when no humans are about
But there are times of course, we meet him in his home
We can't blame him for being there, it is on his land we roam
Open up your tent flap, and see the big brown bear
Close it quickly zip it up, you must not meet his stare
He would not come to campsites, if nothing for him there
After he had looked around, he would go elsewhere
He has that special odour, you can tell where he has been
You sense that he was at your camp, even though not seen
That is why statistics, that are often known to lie
Can this time tell the Gods own truth, so very few will die
So when you stay in National Parks, or even just 'Out There'
Leave a pristine place behind you, leave nothing for the bear
We can do it safely, out camping in the bush
If we just use some common sense, not give our luck a push
So there is that big brown bear, sexes named as hogs
Does little of the damage, of domesticated dogs
But he is big and looks so fierce, he takes a lot of blame
Should he vanish then this earth, would never be the same
Copyright © Warren Mbaht | Year Posted 2020
|
Details |
Warren Mbaht Poem
There was a young bloke from Sydney
Found a large stone in his kidney
Went into a Doc
Who took out the rock
Surely felt better then did-n-ee
Copyright © Warren Mbaht | Year Posted 2020
|
Details |
Warren Mbaht Poem
The Great Horned Owl sits on his branch
Surveys the land around
Searching for some prey to eat
He knows they do abound
His head turns near full circle
His stomach needs to fill
Has to see a movement
Misses any that stay still
A Hare looks out but does not see
The threat up in the tree
Leaves the shelter of the bush
Was a better place to be
He crosses the wide open ground
To where he starts to feed
The Horned Owl glides without a sound
A beat increases speed
Talons reaching for the strike
Still has not been seen
Time is up for this poor Hare
Whose vision was not keen
The Owl will feed his family
Has plenty for some days
Nature always has a say
In who leaves and then who stays
Copyright © Warren Mbaht | Year Posted 2020
|
Details |
Warren Mbaht Poem
Water flowing downward from the hilltop
Meandering through gullies and the fell
Even bigger mountains for the backdrop
Where it really starts so hard to tell
Reaching a low cliff it becomes airborne
And plunges to the pool not far below
Down there in amongst the thriving buckhorn
Where fish live in the depths and lesser flow
Colours dance in spray that rises swirling
And wetting all the plants for yards around
Then duck and dive, and begin the twirling
Accompanied by crashing water sound
The strength of nature has me in its hold
A power that has been since time untold
January 31 2020
I am struggling a bit here, totally new to me. If I did not get it, so be it. I would like a hint where I went wrong
Copyright © Warren Mbaht | Year Posted 2020
|
Details |
Warren Mbaht Poem
On waking up one morning
I was maybe 8 years old
It seemed my jaw was aching
Oh what was to unfold
My Mother had a little look
A finger in my mouth
A molar had a wiggle
And my courage just went south
I had heard about the dentist
And the pain that he would cause
Put my clothes on, out the door
With not the slightest pause
Went round to my mates place
Should get support from him
His Mum said I was early
Saw my eyes red round the rim
Put an arm around me
"Tell me what is wrong"
"I'm going to the dentist
and want Jim to come along"
We headed back to my place
Mum was looking stern
"You will do as I tell you
Whenever will you learn"
Jim he did a runner
My Mum is pretty wild
He didn't want to stay there
She'd scare any little child
We end up in the waiting room
A lady takes my name
For all the worry she portrayed
It could have been a game
A yell comes from the surgery
Got through a solid door
I had a bolt of terror
That started at my core
My tum was rolling over
Sweat ran down my brow
I tried to run, Mum grabbed me
"We are here, and staying now"
A kid comes out, oh what a mess
His face was swollen red
Felt sure when Doc got at me
In five minutes I'd be dead
Mum takes me in, sat in the chair
Next to a tray of tools
One look was all I needed
To feel pressure from the stools
Gave my Mum a forlorn look
"I need a number two"
"You just sit there sonny
I am wide awake to you"
The dentist looks inside my mouth
"This one is very loose"
A gentle pull with pliers, and
I did feel such a goose
So since then I've been many times
Never been so easy
But then now I'm a full adult
I don't get quite so queasy
Copyright © Warren Mbaht | Year Posted 2022
|
Details |
Warren Mbaht Poem
I stand looking eastward, in the piccaninny dawn
I stand up straight, have a stretch, give out a hearty yawn
I am waiting for the sunrise, one of those times of day
When the beauty of this Place we live, comes with its own display
The horizon slowly brightens, as the Earth revolves
The sun appears to move around, as the dark dissolves
The rays start to stream vertical, the herald of the sun
Then the first part of the orb, a new day has begun
I watch enthralled as colours change, atmosphere in control
It is not long before the sun, is magnificently whole
The shadows they stretch out so far, hard to see the end
They blend into the distant shapes, Goosebumps they can send
As they are growing shorter, and daylight in command
Sunrise has gone for another day, Gods raucous, avian band
Plays all the different bird calls, is not sunrise grand?
All I can do is watch in wonder, was it really planned
As it makes its way across the sky, the Sun sees all the Earth
I think about the miracle, for what my thought is worth
The eons in the past gone by, no doubt the same to come
Just the passing of such time, it makes my brain quite numb
It moves toward its setting point, more beauty to behold
The colours they will vary, but with overwhelming gold
The reds they will be deeper, as the sun sinks in the west
Hard to say which one I think, sunrise or sunset best
As the orb sinks lower, shadows lengthen once again
But this time it's getting darker, daylight is on the wane
We'll have to wait till morning, once more to see it rise
Until dusk we can enjoy, the colour lows and highs
Copyright © Warren Mbaht | Year Posted 2022
|
Details |
Warren Mbaht Poem
The brumby of Australia, not known to be well bred
Some are tough as leather, but that not often said
More criticised that praised, for damage that they do
Muddying the waterholes, as cattle never do
The biggest problem that they have, their wish to have a roll
Find some nice clean water, then muddy up the hole
They will get to station horses, the mares have foul breed foals
The quality completely gone, and fences torn to holes
The stockman love to muster them, the wildest of the rides
Chase them way along the flat, and down the mountain sides
But we also have a saying, and is so very true
You should never kill a good horse, as some brumby chasers do
So though it is so very sad, we have to thin them out
We can only breed fine horses, if no brumbies are about
Your life depends on stamina, and full trust in your mount
It is your horse that saves your life, more times than you can count
Copyright © Warren Mbaht | Year Posted 2023
|
Details |
Warren Mbaht Poem
I know I put my glasses down, but don't remember where
I would ask someone to help me, but no one seems to care
I've looked in all the places, that I may have put them down
The last place that I thought to look, the pocket of my gown
Naturally they are not there, continue with the search
Even Cocky seems amused, there sitting on his perch
Did I leave them outside in the car, go out and have a look
I soon found out that they were not there, in the minute that it took
I even opened up the fridge, they never have been there
But it is still a place to look, with diligence and care
I've been up to the bedroom, even checked the bed
Told the family to find them, or no one will be fed
They all gave me that resigned look, now they will have to say
That they know where my glasses are, there is no other way
They still kept quiet and watched me, as I went from room to room
They know they will have to tell me, if I do not find them soon
That would mean they would go hungry, for I would keep my word
I still listen for a message, from that little dicky bird
The youngest of the children breaks, and tells me where they are
They were sitting high up on my head, did not get very far
Copyright © Warren Mbaht | Year Posted 2019
|