Scraps of rhyme .....

[Thorgrimm Halfdane]

I haven't posted anything to this thread for a while, so here's one that I have always found evokes memories of that special 'quiet' time that comes at the close of the day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

DUSK

Now is the healing, quiet hour that fills
This gay, green world with peace and grateful rest.
Where lately over opalescent hills
The blood of slain Day reddened all the west,
Now comes at Night's behest,
A glow that over all the forest spills,
As with the gold of promised daffodils.
Of all hours this is best.

It is time for thoughts of holy things,
Of half-forgotten friends and one's own folk.
O'er all, the garden-scented sweetness clings
To mingle with the wood fire's drifting smoke.
A bull-frog's startled croak
Sounds from the gully where the last bird sings
His laggard vesper hymn, with folded wings;
And night spreads forth her cloak.

Keeping their vigil where the great range yearns,
Like rigid sentries stand the wise old gums.
On blundering wings a night-moth wheels and turns
And lumbers on, mingling its drowsy hums
With that far roll of drums,
Where the swift creek goes tumbling amidst the ferns...
Now, as the first star in the zenith burns,
The dear, soft darkness comes.

C.J.Dennis - 'The Singing Garden'

T.

[Thorgrimm Halfdane]

I have always had an interest in the subject of Collective Nouns and, over time, have been working on something that could possibly be used as a Childens' book.
It's still a work in progress and, for the moment, I call it -

COLLECTIVE NOUNSENSE

There are names for animals when they’re gathered in groups,
Like Lions in a “Pride” and Monkeys in “Troupes”.
Now these names have a name which may cause you to frown,
When animals gather together it’s called a “Collective Noun”.

Now Collective Nouns can be oodles of fun,
They are as many and varied as spots on the Sun.
And as you read on, you will very soon see,
That some of these nouns are as strange as can be.

Here’s one to start with which takes all the cash,
A group of Rhinoceros is known as a Crash.
And while we’re away in far Africa,
We may just see a Crossing of Zebra.

I’m sure you would prefer, as everyone knows,
An Unkindness of Ravens to a Murder of Crows.
But please don’t be scared, don’t run away,
Or you may not see that Squirrels come in a Dray.

It would be interesting to know, it might even cause howls,
To see how laws are debated in a Parliament of Owls.
But, even stranger, is this one for the books,
Where would you live in a Building of Rooks?

Then there’s the insects and I’m not one to babble,
But when Butterflies gather, they’re called a Rabble.
Better watch out now, hold on to your hats,
You don’t want get caught in a big Cloud of Gnats.

I think I should tell you, it really is best,
To leave that Colony of Wasps alone in their nest.
Now there’s something unpleasant and not very nice,
The last thing you want is an Infestation of Lice.

Are you getting forgetful? Are you becoming quite vague?
Don’t you remember I told you that Locusts come in a Plague.
Stop your complaining and all of that bluster,
You know that a swarm of Grasshoppers is called a Cluster.

Let’s change the subject, take a walk in the parks,
And listen to the magic of an Exultation of Larks.
Quietly look over your shoulder but don’t raise the alarm,
That gathering of Hummingbirds is known as a Charm.

Don’t just stare down, look up in the sky,
There’s a Kettle of Hawks, rising on high.
And if you watch carefully near where the track forks,
You might be lucky to see a Mustering of Storks.

~~~~~ To be continued ~~~~~

Hmm, I wonder what a collection of Collective Nouns might be called?

Cheers,
;D T.

[Pensive]

That is FANTASTIC!!!.. keep writing, for you certainly do have a way with words.. absolutely, FANTASTIC!!!

[Dream Loxley]

Gosh......... a delight to read! Wonderful piece....... truly *S* Very informative and great fun.

[Halethala]

Absolutely delightful, T! *nudges you for the rest!!*

Until then . .

These are those silvered days
Of summer’s soft farewell
When promise hangs in fully ripened readiness
And the earth slips her richest cloak across her shoulders
Hiding winter in her dewy folds

[Thorgrimm Halfdane]

That was lovely Letha, and now, just 'cos you asked so nicely ... here's another that I've been working on.

Collective Nounsense - Australian Style:

Now that you have found out,
What Collective Nouns are about.
I thought that it would be really fun to,
See what Nouns we can find Down-Under.

Maybe if we were to ask a kind Sailor,
We could take a voyage down to Australia.
Then were we could go on a Walkabout,
We would find some Nouns, I have no doubt.

If you make sure. If you are right on the job,
You will find out not everything comes in a “Mob”.
It does not matter what people try to tell you,
You must read, look and search to find which is true.

You had better be quick to find how the land lies,
Or you might get caught up in a Business of Flies.
And please do be careful that you don’t stray,
Into that big Colony of Wasps, just over the way.

Over there near that gum tree plantation,
Is a big group of Plovers in a Congregation.
And I’m not surprised at how well time flies,
When listening to a Tiding of noisy Magpies.

It might be enough to make your brain rattle,
To discover a flock of Parrots is called a Prattle.
And you may even wish that you could sprout wings,
To get away from a Chattering of Starlings.

You have done very well, that’s really fine job,
Wallabies and Wombats do both come in a Mob.
But here is something to send you for a loop,
A group of Kangaroos can be a Mob or a Troop.

Now never mind about all their bluster,
A flock of Crows is still called a Muster,
And I sometimes wonder if any bad habits,
There might be found in a Warren of Rabbits.

I must say sorry to you, my dear friends,
But this is where our small journey ends,
For I’m off to the Library, if you don’t mind,
There are many more Collective Nouns to find.

T.

[Thorgrimm Halfdane]

Sunshine
you never know
the intensity of its warmth
until it goes away.

In memoria

T.

[Thorgrimm Halfdane]

THYLACINE.

Marsupial Wolf,
Tasmania's Tiger.
Loping carnivore,
Relentless pursuer.
Stripes fading, into the dusk.
Have you left us forever?
All gone, unbidden.
Or do you still stalk the night?
In some deep fern gully,
Hidden.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

((Supposedly extinct, there continue to be reports of sightings of this elusive animal, mainly in Tasmania but also from isolated areas on mainland Australia. It is to be hoped that small colonies do still exist somewhere.))

T.

[Thorgrimm Halfdane]

THE LYRETAIL

Far in the forest depths I dwell,
The master mimic of them all,
To pour from out my secret dell
Echo of many a bushland call,
That over all the forest spills;
Echo of many a birdland note,
When out about the timbered hills
Sounds all that borrowed lore that fills
My magic throat.

I am the artist. Songs to me
From all this gay green land are sped;
And when the wondrous canopy
Of my great, fronded tail is spread-
A glorious veil, at even's hush-
Above my head, I do my part;
Then wren and robin, finch and thrush-
All are re-echoed in a rush
Of perfect art.

Here by my regal throne of state,
To serve me for a swift retreat,
The little runways radiate;
And when the tread of alien feet
Draws near I vanish: ever prone
To quick alarm when aught offends
That secret ritual of the throne.
My songs are for my mate alone,
And favoured friends.

I am the artist. None may find,
In all the world, a match for me:
Rare feathered loveliness combined
With such enchanting minstrelsy.
In a land vocal with gay song
I choose whate'er I may require;
I wait, I listen all day long,
Then to the music of a throng
I tune my lyre.

C.J Dennis - "The Singing Garden"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the bush, the Superb Lyrebird is very elusive. (You'll hear more often than you'll ever see him.) but I found this online and thought everyone might like to see the extent of the mimicry that the Lyrebird is capable of.
Turn up the volume and allow it to play through once to get the full effect.

video.google.com/videoplay?docid=3433507052114896375

T.

[Thorgrimm Halfdane]

I was lying out in my backyard today and saw a hawk riding the thermals. It put me in mind of the following poem.

~~~~~~~~~~

EAGLEHAWK

Eaglehawk is a leaf in the air
All day long going round and round in circles,
Sometimes dark against the sky
And sometimes with his great wings tipped with light
As the sunset edges the clouds . . .
Only when night comes and the fire-beetle stars
Twinkle overhead,
Is the sky empty of Eaglehawk.

Eaglehawk sees all the world stretched out below,
The animals scurrying across the plain
Among the tufts of prickly porcupine grass,
Valleys to the east and plains to the west,
And river-courses scribbled across the desert
Like insect tracks in the sand; and mountains
Where the world sweeps up to meet him and falls away.

The animals live in the dust,
But Eaglehawk lives in the air.
He laughs to see them.
And when the pans dry up and the rivers shrink,
He laughs still more, and laughing
Sweeps half across the world to drop and drink.

William Hart-Smith.1911 - 1990.

T.

[Halethala]

Mmmm . . I think I'm going to have to find a copy of "The Singing Garden" . . share more, if there is more?

[Thorgrimm Halfdane]

Yes Letha, there's more, a whole lot more but I doubt if you'll find a copy of "The Singing Garden" around these days.
However, if you follow this link it will take you to a very comprehensive C.J Dennis site.
www.middlemiss.org/lit/authors/denniscj/index.html
And here's another one of his poems just to go on with.

~~~~~~~~~~

GREEN WALLS

I love all gum-trees well. But, best of all,
I love the tough old warriors that tower
About these lawns, to make a great green wall
And guard, like sentries, this exotic bower
Of shrub and fern and flower.
These are my land's own sons, lean, straight and tall,
Where crimson parrots and grey gang-gangs call
Thro' many a sunlit hour.

My friends, these grave old veterans, scarred and stem,
Changeless throughout the changing seasons they.
But at their knees their tall sons lift and yearn -
Slim spars and saplings - prone to sport and sway
Like carefree boys at play;
Waxing in beauty when their young locks turn
To crimson, and, like beaconfires burn
To deck Spring's holiday.

I think of Anzacs when the dusk comes down
Upon the gums - of Anzacs tough and tall.
Guarding this gateway, Diggers strong and brown.
And when, thro' Winter's thunderings, sounds their call,
Like Anzacs, too, they fall ...
Their ranks grow thin upon the hill's high crown:
My sentinels! But, where those ramparts frown,
Their stout sons mend the wall.

Cheers,
;D T.

[Halethala]

Oh my . . *wide smile* I know where I will be burying my head when I've the time . . thank you! (though I just know I'm going to need a companion dictionary of Australian slang )

Though this pales in comparison to the vibrancy and optimism of Dennis' work, this struck a chord with me . .

THE BIRDS

are heading south, pulled
by a compass in the genes.
They are not fooled
by this odd November summer,
though we stand in our doorways
wearing cotton dresses,
We are watching them

as they swoop and gather--
the shadow of wings
falls over the heart.
When they rustle among
the empty branches, the trees
must think their lost leaves
have come back.

The birds are heading south,
instinct is their oldest story.
They fly over their doubles,
the mute weathervanes,
teaching all of us
with their tailfeathers
the true north.

~ Linda Pastan

[Halethala]

From a fellow Minnesotan, Kati Sasseville

No, no, no, I said to Chelsea Jo. It's not 'I took it for granite,' it's 'I took it for granted.'
Ten years old looked at me with suspicious eyes. But kept her own counsel.
I thought it was solid as rock, forever, this thing between us.
That centuries would not change nor time undo.
Sometimes sharp as flint, or sparkling like rose quartz. Or . . fool's gold.
Perhaps I knew erosion
By wind or water could occur.
Barely perceptible to the eye.
And then you were gone. And I had not yet said the things I would have said
Had I known that I was only
Taking you for granite.

[Nicole]

I wish I had button eyes and a red felt nose
Shaggy cotton skin and just one set of clothes
Sittin' on a shelf in a local department store
With no dreams to dream and nothin' to be sorry for


I wish I had a wooden heart and a sawdust mind
Then your mem'ry wouldn't come around hurtin' all the time
I'd have a sewed on smile and a painted twinkle in my eye
And I never would have ever had to learn how to cry

I wish I was a Teddy Bear
Not livin' or lovin' nor goin nowhere
I wish I was a Teddy Bear

I wish I had a string you could pull to make me say
Hi, I'm Teddy, ain't it a lovely day?

Then I'd know every time I spoke the words were right
And no one would know the mess I made of my life