The Happy Busker.
Get noticed.
That Comes first.
Do something subtle or edgy.
That comes from the Bourke Street Mall’s
‘The Busker’s Handbook’ ‘
You gotta be good to survive anywhere,
Blogging is like busking.
You perform on the stage of the page.
Keep it succinct, punchy, authentic.
You want coins in yr cup, clinking with compliments.
You like to go home pleased, clicking yr heels
like Mr. Tambourine Man.
You do a clunker like my last one,
kick it in the gutter, get back in the saddle.
Big Blue Mouth
The sky is a big
blue mouth.
…………….
Already it has eaten
the daylight moon.
……………..
What next?
The sun?
………….
No. A mere morsel
will do.
…………………
It opens wide and
Swallows
…………………….
my tiny yellow run-
away balloon.
*Kerrinda Press S.A.
2009
The Kangaroo down Webber
Took a walk ‘round the hood
a sudden rain came in
took refuge in a Gaming Lounge
Had no money – win-win.
………………………………………..
Slipped down to Weber
met my mate Metal ‘Roo
but he had lost his left arm
so what’s a poor boy to do ?
…………………………………………..
So I thrust out the other arm
shook his remaining paw
the little joey looked up
and smiled at what he saw
We All Cracked Up
Maybe I really do look sluggish.
like I’m on my last legs —
do slugs have feet? —
that they bring it to me, the cappuccino
rather than make me hang around the counter
like the others.?
You feel like royalty .
Maybe it’s the Loyalty card I hold
that I’m a customer of long standing.
They all know me.
And I know them.
First name basis.
We go back.
We bonded that time I was in the queue years ago
paying for a few finger buns to share with a friend
when Chris asked me,
Would you like your buns buttered, John ?
and we all cracked up..
Why am I always the butt of jokes ???
It’s wet and miserable outside but I feel happy here.
The endorphins surge through me.
If you visit down this neck of the woods drop by
the Café Boulevard.
Tell ‘em John sent you J
and you don’t want your buns buttered !!
The Bin Chook and Me
The bin chook was plundering a plastic bag a few meters from the bench where I was reading, a loaf of brown bread with its insides almost eaten out.
Your turn, he said, as he winged away.
Nah, thanks, I’ll pass.
A pigeon ambled along a few minutes later. He passed too.
Not much of a story but if you’re a writer, you gotta take what crumbs you are given.
The snail came out to see
what all the fuss was about.
He hadn’t seen any for over a month either.
Rain, he said. Who would have thought ?
“Why don’t you get up,
Johnny Boy
Why don’t you get up?”
,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
“The sedge has withered
from the lake
and no song birds sing.”
*picbypinterest
Flits.
I like the way the honey-eater
flits
from one tasselled branch to another
then flips
onto its back
drinking nectar from the flower
like a milkshake
through
a straw
*pic by pinterest
Glad
the pigeons are gone
& I feel sad
I miss their shenanigans
their coo-ing and fro-ing
but they have found their love
& I am glad
*pic by pinterest
