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We are a worldwide social network of freethinkers, atheists, agnostics and secular humanists.

The following are poems I penned over the years.

You can dissect them and tell me where I possibly could have done or expressed better.

Down by the Creek.

Down by the creek,
where the tea-tree grows
Down by the creek,
where the cutty grass grows.
Sit a lonely little boy.
Yabbing!

Down by the creek,
where the soft grasses grow.
Down by the creek,
where the wild flowers bloom.
A youth sits with his true love!
Courting!

Down by the creek,
where the gums grow tall.
Down by the creek,
where the lantana grows.
Sits a young man, head in hands,
crying for his true love.
Lost!

Down by the creek,
where the tall gums, and tea-tree grow.
Down by the creek,
where the cutty grass and lantana grow.
Sits an old man,yabbying as he did many years ago, chilhood.
Wiping away the tears that fall, for a lonely life.
Remembrance!

Down by the creek,
where the tall gums, and tea-tree grow.
Down by the creek,
where the cutty grass and lantana grow.
No little boy, yabbing.
No youth courting his girl.
No young man crying for his lost love.
No old man and his sad memories.
But the wind.
Blowing through the trees, o'er the grass, wild flowers, lantana.
Singing a sad requiem, a sad refrain, for
the lonely little boy that become sad old man,
the memory of his lonely life!!

© Mullity 2012.



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The Cutting.

The sun shone down the cutting.
Men working down the cutting.
Sultry heat rising.
Tempers rising.
Working since, morning's coolness.

Noontime rest, memory now.
No wind, no breeze,
to cool, to dry
toiling men's brow.

Air thick, heat oppressive.
Relief, no hint.
Tempers flare, cursing,
work and heat!

Men,
Ancient rocks,
yeilding slowly,
persistent chipping, gouging,
like ants.

White, grey flecked clouds
pass overhead, no releif!
In the cutting,
exhaustion telling, work slowing,
nature at work!

© Mullity 1999.

You are beautiful Still.

You are beautiful still!
Youths bloom, stolen by time.
Time, unable to dull and kill,
the laughing,sparkling gaiety in your eyes.

You are beautiful still!
Though time has left its mark.
Breasts once perky, now sagging.
Face once smooth in youth,
lined and crow-footed around the eyes.
Showing the laughter and joy you
shared in life.

You are beautiful,
Still!

© Mullity 2001.



The Attack of the Golden Dragon.

The Golden Dragon soared,

glided low, struck.

Broached my defences,

a question she asked,

encirled me.

Laying seige, yet defending

my heart. Resisting all!

Her seige is gentle, healing,

abides her time,

to enter,the citadel,

the inner sanctum of my heart.

© Mullity..........2013.



My Treasure

My Sweet Treasure.

Men use cold heartless metals

in measuring their wealth.

My measure of wealth,

warm and tender hearted,

walks beside me, my woman.

My wealth is in her,

her love and affection,

she gives from heart and soul.

No amount of cold heartless metal,

will ever equal her wealth.

© Mullity........2013.



Hello Joey 
Glad you like them. 
When any writer writes anything they are putting themselves into the work be it a story, poem, saga or anything else. As you said they do remind us that we have a heart but also they can show how we must begin to change ourselves for the better. 
Here is an example from gentleman by the name of James Russel Lowell ( February 22, 1819 – August 12, 1891) who was an American Romantic poet, critic, editor, and diplomat.

Slaves

They are slaves who fear to speak,

For the fallen and the weak;

They are slaves who will not choose,

Hatred, scoffing and abuse,

Rather than in silence shrink,

From the truth they needs must think;

They are slaves who dare not be,

In the right with two or three.

I like poetry because it forces you to reduce the baggage to express yourself succinctly. In a round about way helps you when you do write to make your sentences more compact but yet getting your meaning across to the reader. Or another way to put it is, it stops verbal diarrhoea in writing.  

Curious if what was said about Vincent's ear problem was true.

Thanks for the beautifull poetery  Davy.

Thank you. glad you like them. 

Curious if you know that fingerlings swim backwards and as the river washes they may be called poppers.

excellent

Just some that I have written done the years but glad you like them.

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