Irish-English
Having stolen all the goods and gone,
The English are back in Ireland
Seeking the good of man
In folksong of the past.
Irish in acadamia
Have left the country behind
Preferring to live where the air comes in,
Leave the stench to the English mind.
It's neither one thing nor another
But a blend that works the best.
But when it comes to English-Irish
The latter think the opposite's blessed.
Living by the nostrils the Irish whiff the past,
'The English they can have it. By the future we are cast.'
poem by Douglas Scotney
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Peach Extender
When 'not much left exists in right'
meets 'little right in left',
all weft no warp,
all warp no weft,
no weave appears in sight.
But every now and then detected,
a pulse of left in right,
a flash of right in left:
'There's the breach I hoped, expected;
the exception proves the rule:
full fathom five no fellow lies
full-on right-wing fool,
full-on left-wing tool.'
Follow-on from my poem 'Doug's Peach'.
Partly inspired by Q&A debate between Cardinal Pell and Richard Dawkins on 9.4.2012.
poem by Douglas Scotney
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Modality
The growing pace of obsolescence
That exists in the world of machines
Has seen me seeking refuge in
Less evanescent means
Of externalizing art.
There's a sense of doom in pictures
The end's hardly after the start
Today's in the museum tomorrow
An ineluctable feeling of sorrow
Has entered the expression of art.
Lost sense of the journey
When start seems after the end
What's done is done
Before it's done
The present before the past
The future earlier still
When future's gone
Past is round the bend.
poem by Douglas Scotney
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Pre-Ulyssean Dilemma
Why did Joyce call the guy Athy
When he could have called him Naas?
On a map of Kildare
Two towns, at a glance,
Rhyme with what's found
In a character's pants.
Young Dedalus shared a sickroom
With a guy nicknamed 'a thigh'.
'An arse' it could have equally been.
Why not? I'll give it a try.
First thoughts were Joyce were a shy man;
Then I guessed his mind too high class.
The truth of it is, he was tickled
By the towns of Athy and of Naas.
Just to mention Athy to an Ireman
Brings on a joke of an arse.
poem by Douglas Scotney
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Aquinas On Toast
Among big banks in the usury business
Grew a greed for lucre so strong
It changed the way that they loved.
They married their sisters
And cousins and nieces
To keep the money in store;
Changed the laws to agree.
Excused for their crimes,
During worrying times,
'Too big to fail'
They were given the bail
By the nervous borrowing throng.
Continuing singing their song,
They honed their incestuous laws-
Were brought down by madness, of course;
Bringing the throng down with 'em,
Continuing eternal rhythm.
poem by Douglas Scotney
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Default
Shocked!
As I was
To hear an unknown known voice
Inviting me to message
After 5 or 6 rings,
And charging me for the privilege
Into the bargain,
I understood why.
When setting up a similar facility
I thought it rudeness
To butt in on a person's expectations
Well before they had been lowered
By excess rings
And charge them for the rudeness
Into the bargain.
I made the facility wait for 13 rings
And told the privileged few,
Thus giving them good time to think,
[...] Read more
poem by Douglas Scotney
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The Land of Trope
The Northern Territory's
Earnt qualities of trope
Have made me qualify the name
To Northern Terratrope.
South Australia too
Though not so trope-endowed
Is by no means trope-astray-
vis-a-vis Victoria
In a little-bro-big-bro-big-bro-little-bro way.
We've often thought of name change:
My favorite, 'South Sandwich Meat'.
But now the North is called The Trope,
'The Meat' I will delete
And call it Southern Terratrope.
O Ntropy and Stropy,
With names we'll have our day.
Miss N Trope hates folks.
[...] Read more
poem by Douglas Scotney
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The Secret of Life
The artist picked his career
With the intention of just being good.
Finding that to get what you seek
You cannot just be good,
'Would I have picked this job, ' he thought,
'Had I known what now I know,
That there is bad in what I sought? '
He had a go at doing
What a teacher said,
Using glue,
Using lots of glue,
But finding still
Some goodness left,
Used only glue instead.
Asked for his finding
On the secret of life,
He admitted he hadn't a clue,
'But I know where it has to lie,
[...] Read more
poem by Douglas Scotney
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To a Fly of the Land (revised)
An apology, an excuse and a hope and a warning.
On this the land
On which I swat
You steward of the land
On which I squat
Forgive me my trespasses.
I acknowledge my failings:
I swat flies on railings.
You think I kill for thrill.
It hurts me more than you.
I pray that I can change my habit,
That you can change yours too:
Vomit on my food, don't do it,
Right after you have dined on poo.
A prayer is a hope that comes with a warning:
Keep out of my way
[...] Read more
poem by Douglas Scotney
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Proposal for Rupert
Pippa went to Wimbledon
Watched from the Royal Box.
The Mirror and Mail reported
How much her outfit cost.
The top was 404
The bottom a little more.
She bought them in a store
For the royals to know the score.
Murdoch's Sun was more devout
It left the prices out.
His Advertiser in Adelaide
Paid for the Mail report:
'The Sun's just not sufficient:
Leaving out our favourite sport.'
Knowing all of what she's made
I want the make of all.
[...] Read more
poem by Douglas Scotney
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