I watched the sage turn the page
and open up the vault
from whence a bluebird flew
in a world of fault.

The cloak of years that he wore
wrapped in a fulsome fold
hid secrets and mysteries
and narrative of pure gold.

Though enclosed they flew to those
who wanted…

I am shaped by the wind and the weather
and am who I am
I’ve been on this planet for ages
and do only what I can.

I’ve lived a lucky life
it’s had its highs and lows
there’s been days of sunshine
and dark days when the wild wind blows…

Your eyes are pools I’ve gazed into,
your smile as warm as sunshine,
I’ve walked the track where you have been,
in different moods and fun time.

Mirrors of light shades of dark,
sparks of recognition,
kindle knowledge yet untold,
life put on full ignition.

Deep souls stir and come…

Moving across the dance floor,
The swish and perfumed air,
Then I walk out the door,
Seemingly without care.

Gazing at the city lights,
The music drifts on by,
The moon melts into butter,
Wee droplets from the sky.

I climb the stairs to heaven
And hold you in my hands
You…

Dreams can be dangerous
Especially if you sleep talk
And jabber like a chicken
And set off on a sleepwalk.

It’s ok if you do it at home
And all the doors are locked
And don’t wander outdoors
And leave the neighbors shocked.

Sometimes in the nighttime
When all is tranquil…

Out west in the Southern Tablelands
Near Black springs down Jerrong way
There lives a wild Rascacallion
Who most times gets his way?

In the wilds of the Abercrombie
He lives there in a shed
And be careful approaching from the west
Or he’ll fill you full of lead.

He’s a man who seldom asks
About your business, if caught trespassing
Regardless of if you’re blowing through
Or take too long when resting.

He’ll fill you full of holes
Till you resemble a useless sieve
Mostly blown apart
A moment lost you can’t relive.

So, beware of your hapless fossickers
Out there noodling for a buck
Cos if the Rascacallion catches you
You’ll be left fresh out of luck.

Some say he has a four ten
An antiquated shotgun, rifle
But you’ll jump out of your socks
Cos he couldn’t care a trifle.

So, beware Aussies and strangers
Don’t approach this rascacallion bloke
Cos he’ll catch you in his gun sights
And blow you up in smoke.

They say he’s hairy and unshaven
And has a wide uninterrupted view
And the rumor’s if he’s hungry
You’ll end up in his stew.

©

David Rudder
20th October 2021

Thanks for reading.

Somewhere over the rainbow
In another place and time
It seems like another lifetime
Without words and done in mime.

Is it a dream that I’ve been in?
Or part of the changing seasons
Does the metamorphic state
Need answers and good reasons.

Change is always inevitable
There’s no waiting to…

I once owned
A pesky parrot bird
Who remembered
Every word
Of what I’d said
Or shouted
At everything
It heard.

She sang brrr brrr
When the phone rang
Then listened
To what was said

Then repeated it

Until my face went red.

Whether right or wrong
The words lodged
In her head
She used to listen
To my wife
Who’d roll her eyes
And say
It’s her again
God save us
I wish
She’d go away.

It was
The dreaded
Mouther outlaw
And all the missus
Could moan
Was O I know
Then whispers get off
The bloody phone.

After a long call
That went on and on
The missus
Was exhausted
She reckoned for
What she’d undergone.

The parrot sat up
And cocked its head
Then said brrr brrr allo
And then it said
O no O no
I wish
The bishh
Wash ded.

We taught the parrot
To say hello
Then say
I know I know
And next time
The mouther outlaw phoned
We gave
The bird a go.

She rambled on
For hours and hours
And the parrot said
I know I know
And then as we’d
Taught it
Politely said
Now I’ve got to go.

We thought we’d solved the problem
The mouther outlaw
Could have her say
Yackety Yack, she never stopped
She blabbed
All night and day.

Now all of us are happy
The mouther outlaw
And parrot
In total delight
They’d babble
Senselessly all-day
And half the night.

This happy
State of affairs
Went on and on
Until one fateful day
When our talking bird
Fell off its perch
And slipped
Peacefully away.

We buried the poor bird
In the backyard
And dropped
The phone in there
As well
The bird went to paradise
The mouther outlaw
To hell.

©

David Rudder
19th October 2021

Thanks for reading.