Monthly Archives: August 2013

Saccragast (First Draft)

I wanted to write a bit of a scary poem about the bogeyman / sackman. I think the imagery needs some work on this poem, however the theme and essence of the poem is there. Thought I would share with you how I write. I generally write a first draft, such as, that contains the essence of the tale I want to tell in the poem. Then I will re-read it and create imagery, explore words, improve the flow and meter, add similes & metaphors, and generally just evolve it. I will share the evolution of this poem with you … so you get a little inside to how I write. Enjoy!

I lie awake tonight, for he is hunting
Once I was the hunted,
The night I was snared, fresh
Musky smells of dried blood & urine
Itchy hairs of this sack prickle my skin
No light, rocking against his back

Wide eyed I stare, crimson
Scares mark my friend
He doesn’t breathe, so
I hold my breath too

Bugs crawl under my clothes
Gnawing at my nerves,
Tasting the blood of the other
Boys mouth, and ear

A scream nearby stirs my thoughts,
Their voice is swiftly stilled
Footsteps approach, the bag opens
The night sky blankets the moon
A lifeless body collapses on me

We are lifted with ease, now moving fast
Dead eyes stare, I don’t want
To die, I will be good, too late
We have stopped, and turned
Upside down we fall

Cascading down like a rockslide
My body lands heavily on the dead
Atop of me my friend falls
He doesn’t move, he is silent

His eyes are closed, I can’t
An old man walking in shadows
At his feet I meekly grovel
“Ye shall keep” he mutters

Now each night he hunts
I lie awake, waiting to hear
The sullen thud of his meal
Each thud means I live another day

Each meal I eat I see
I see dead eyes staring
Bugs drinking bloodied ear
I taste the gristle of pointed fingers

Ma warned me of serving him
I chose to ignore her, now
Pale skinned I slave for him
For he is the Saccragast

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Posted by on Thursday 29th August, 2013 in Poetry, The Struggle Within


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A timesheet poem I wrote a while back (haven’t been writing them of late, think the last one was almost a year ago). Tried to make it sound a little Shakespeare like (add some culture to work … haha) and tried to keep it flowing fast. Not my best work, but just some fun. Enjoy!

Thou art elaborate as a bee hive,
Each busy deciphering their reason.
Burdened they can but only thrive;
Not concerned by the chilled season

The women buzz at fifty shades of grey
Whilst the directors fly in deep dales,
A union forged, overcoming any fray
And at the end they’ll down ales

But the Shag errs from course,
The honey weighs heavy on his mind.
Others stray not from the Queen’s force
Enduring the journey together entwined

The life of thou reflects a social bee
Satisfying the Queen, her will with glee

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Posted by on Friday 23rd August, 2013 in Poetry


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My Country by Dorothea Mackellar

By far my favourite Australian poem … the second verse is particularly famous here, however I think the whole poem is just so beautiful and strong. Not to mention she wrote this when she was only 19. Enjoy!

The love of field and coppice,
Of green and shaded lanes.
Of ordered woods and gardens
Is running in your veins,
Strong love of grey-blue distance
Brown streams and soft dim skies
I know but cannot share it,
My love is otherwise.

I love a sunburnt country,
A land of sweeping plains,
Of ragged mountain ranges,
Of droughts and flooding rains.
I love her far horizons,
I love her jewel-sea,
Her beauty and her terror –
The wide brown land for me!

A stark white ring-barked forest
All tragic to the moon,
The sapphire-misted mountains,
The hot gold hush of noon.
Green tangle of the brushes,
Where lithe lianas coil,
And orchids deck the tree-tops
And ferns the warm dark soil.

Core of my heart, my country!
Her pitiless blue sky,
When sick at heart, around us,
We see the cattle die –
But then the grey clouds gather,
And we can bless again
The drumming of an army,
The steady, soaking rain.

Core of my heart, my country!
Land of the Rainbow Gold,
For flood and fire and famine,
She pays us back threefold –
Over the thirsty paddocks,
Watch, after many days,
The filmy veil of greenness
That thickens as we gaze.

An opal-hearted country,
A wilful, lavish land –
All you who have not loved her,
You will not understand –
Though earth holds many splendours,
Wherever I may die,
I know to what brown country
My homing thoughts will fly.

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Posted by on Monday 19th August, 2013 in Australiana, Poetry


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I need a little help with this poem. I am unsure where to go next with this, or perhaps what should come before this stanza. Any ideas or suggestions most appreciated, and don’t forget to vote after reading the poem.

I circle the block, for the hundredth time
I am idle at traffic lights in the wake of red
The distractions exhaust my pain
In the rear mirror of her shadow
I stand, unexpectedly at a crossroad.



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Posted by on Tuesday 13th August, 2013 in Poetry


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A Wave

Dedicated to JP

Walking down a wide quiet street
with the sun high above,
a man approaches from a distance,
he is waving frantically.

He reminds me of poor Timmy
back at school trying to hang on till the bell
but he had to go, so he raised his hand
waving urgently to the teacher, too late.

This man is an adult though,
yet the expression is pure.
Is he not all there I muse
or just joyful to be free?

Ahead another man’s body is silent
as the waver approaches him,
fearful that this man was waving,
waving at me? Panic groans.

The waver breaks into laughter,
contagious, it is air borne,
ahead the man’s shoulders join
to the waver’s delight.

The two pass on their paths
and a brief word escapes their lips.
The waver smiles unabridged,
the other man’s stride dances

Do they know each other,
was that a charade,
or two strangers now friends
from an unbridled wave …

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Posted by on Thursday 8th August, 2013 in Poetry


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