29 August 2016

Election Promises



So we’re enduring it again - an election to resurrect 
chances of there being a representative parliament 
instead of sure-fire no-win stand-off we’ve endured 
last two times ‘round; the air’s pastiche, redolent of 
bygone ages, copied manyfold in everything - eras 
the Sages sold as extinct & forgotten - but not by a
too-perennial ministerial ambition so gauche in the 
reflection of anything but games of the self-served 

Promises & pronouncements of ‘essential change’ 
writhe with each other in ‘Media regulated’ debate 
claiming the winner will be our Nation; maybe, but 
the only guarantee is politicians at the heart of it’ll 
see bigger pensions assurances - and essentially 
better expense allocations than budgetary relief 
© 23 May 2016, I. D. Carswell 

28 August 2016

Five Degrees




Five degrees - a bit less than you’d expect for this 
part of Queensland, but then the sun’s risen - and 
calm settles as morning’s rays soothe a cloudless 
blue; are we in f’ another hottie - true you’d guess, 
and no breeze means no light relief unless there’s 
shade to hide in; wondered why it was so quiet - a 
compulsory lie-in mandates slower starts to a day 
you don’t want to see an indice of climate change 

Yes, we could do with a bit of rain - all the creeks 
are dry and the grass has had greener days - but 
that’s outback south east life isn’t it with a stone’s 
throw to the sea where either a feast, or damned
famine, rests on El Nino farts, or La Nina’s whim, 
but we’ll manage and trim the cloth accordingly 
@ 26 May 2016, I. D. Carswell 

27 August 2016

Been Cooler Recently




Its been quite cooler recently - well cold enough 
to make extra layers seem they’re a proper part 
of the early-morning atmosphere; when it’s said 
‘cold toes’ prejudice prospects of feeling there’s 
comfort a-bed & I wouldn’t disagree, so rising to 
a freezing bathroom pragmatically suggests the 
early shower can be delayed later - until need’s 
identified - be it Saturday through Wednesday 

Indeed, it wasn’t calculated deference to water-
saving strategies - we don’t have a town supply 
to get by on - & water-wasting earns no graces 
out here where the creeks are winter-dry; tho’ I 
won’t use that excuse - I hadn’t raised a sweat 
in a week - still yet to get hot & bothered, okay 

And there is the irony; it may just be my super-
dry deodorant astronomically suppresses hints 
there’s something on the wind - or perhaps the 
changed lifestyle thus wins applause this way; 
all I can say is I’m freed by Mother’s edict of a 
bath a week’s considered the minimum need 
© 25 May 2016, I. D. Carswell

26 August 2016

Not Alone




For me & Podge there isn’t a complexity in loneliness, 
tho’ not like we’d not miss each other’s company, or if 
it came to that, grieve on being parted; its just that we 
don’t feel it as alone; th’ paths we regularly pace have 
animal tracks aplenty, reminders opining we’re only a 
smidgen of its indigenous traffic, and that is a leveller 
which says you don’t have to see company to be in it, 
and they’re there - believe us, watching patiently 

So yesterday’s grey kangaroo visits, along with three 
scrub turkey’s clandestine wanderings and the spoor 
of four deer say ‘gidday’; yep, you’re not on your own 
because voices and rave music with revving engines 
didn’t cheer you out of Saturday’s doldrums; but we’ll 
take a rain check on raging Westerlies - if it’s okay 
© 28 May 2016, I. D. Carswell 

25 August 2016

Confidence



Not an exciting occurrence - but then it was always 
on the hoof; in this iteration we’re seeing what’s an 
undeniably under-proofed version of whatever has 
tried to pass as common sense - it’s got me totally 
flummoxed; whereas we think its definition’s rightly 
unchallengeable we’re also being naive whence it 
came; essentially it is out of a blue we have yet to 
actually acknowledge we knew even existed; and, 

I swear I am not into playing ball with what’s faulty 
design - there’s too many loose parameters; mind 
you the history of anything to do with the Web is a 
mine of innuendo and inference; so I bide my time 
as the most sensible argument I can express; and 
if there’s better defence I’ve yet to confide with it 
© 22 March 2016, I. D. Carswell

24 August 2016

It Was A Day



It was a day with extremes - some of them quite 
seemly, although those CNN sprayed by in their 
Trump-bashing-spree suggested this wasn’t my 
bag; so Podge and me go walking; we’re aware 
the hill paddock isn’t empty - fresh cow pats are 
a give-away & Her Grace already demanded an 
apple at the hill gate - it’s a pleasant surprise to 
have our friends mooching on tall grass again 

But probably its greatest event happened in the 
shower where, while standing on a plastic chair 
dourly, me ol’ mate Podge gets shampooed; y’d 
never credit how well he projects the ‘righteous’ 
rectitude of indignity by not struggling or maybe 
cleverly disguising that he likes attention thus 

What became quite obvious post-shower was ‘is 
preference for hair-dryer treatment - rolling upon 
towels didn’t get the tick a hand-held dryer won 
extra quickly, and averted the usual frantic rush 
outdoors where he rolls wildly in anything just t’ 
disguise the shampoo scent he reckon’s wussy 

I say gratefully, mate, not smelling a usual you 
is a blessing we see offsetting your ‘rank’ habit 
of sleeping under my end of the bed … 
© 18 March 2016, I. D. Carswell

23 August 2016

Treasure Hunt



Hardly a chore indeed, but where the pleasure 
assures you’ve the measure of its meaning - a 
wee treasure hunt, with the prize a bevy of foil
-wrapped easter eggs hidden carefully to eyes 
already adapted to the frolic, we’d certainly be 
entertained; in the gathering we’re guaranteed 
a success that is hedonistic gratification - if it’s 
sensuous in the eating to some - then so be it 

But my friend Frederick’s taste wasn’t t’ be his 
motivation for the chase; - finding the beasties 
took first place, then judicious wrap-unpeeling, 
& hand-rendering the eggs to pulp made it an 
enjoyable occasion - he leaves the chocolate 
to a fate only being an easter bunny relieves 
© 27 March 2016, I. D. Carswell 

22 August 2016

Perspective



None-the-less I won’t be coyly shy or digress from 
telling my version - gee, even if you only write in a 
prone position, the perspective doesn’t lie attuned 
to flat terrain, there are tors and crags as freely as 
you’d expect in Highlands with well-met distances 
between the imagination and what you’re actually 
seeing - so there - don’t tell me what I’ll see - I am 
all ears for what comes betwixt ranked possibility 

So I didn’t mean to needlessly ruffle your feathers, 
its an outlook which crafts me a little differently - if 
that’s the right word; maybe I obey instincts that it 
engenders rather than think myself into existence, 
I know it sounds a strange and effacing complex - 
yet it lets me get on with being who I actually am 
© 16 March 2016, I. D. Carswell 

21 August 2016

On The Wing



Today taking th’ steeper hill track on a whim made 
less than a modicum of sense, initially at least, yet 
when the penny dropped as panting receded we’d 
achieved a goal sensibly without breaking stride in 
subtly breaching ambitions by disassembling ‘em - 
hard as it was, we never realised we’d intended to 
do a double circuit as tho’ a contest - but there we 
were - exulting, gliding down the hill to home 

That it was an applause-less welcoming lent this 
paradox a lichen of sense; we were greeted by a 
Brazilian chair cacophony of muted snores, & an 
accompaniment of hems ‘n haws from th’ coterie 
of Kookaburra commentators perched expectant 
on the clothes line - awaiting their minced meat 

Mate, what feat? Taking two walks with the dog 
over the hill doesn’t rate a medal, or a mention; 
but while you’re up there m’ glass needs a refill, 
and the Kookaburras are getting impatient for a 
feed, & they’ll pretend you’re a hero in catching 
their meat in the air when they’re on the wing 
© 29 May 2016, I. D.Carswell 

20 August 2016

You Could Say



You could truthfully say it was the beginning of a good 
day; there were a host of things outstanding - none so 
pressing an iron was needed right away, yet we got

By, the electric clippers cleaning meant a beard’s trim 
wasn’t a hopeless case of cursing to th’ barbers shop, 
well not this time anyway, and the trim’s nice and tidy 

As a purview to getting a renewed #2 haircut as soon 
as the boss lady can find time and her glasses in that 
sinecure space she calls retirement, usually between 

Minding th’ grandkids Tuesday ’n Wednesday & when 
Midsummer Murders has a break, tho it didn’t happen 
yesterday like it was supposed; but I’d’ve discovered 

The clippers needed maintenance a day earlier - woe 
is me, but with th’ last Super Rugby to enjoy, I wasn’t 
disposed to get on the wagon a day earlier - and now 

Today’s events began shaping those tasks I’d usually 
loathe i.e., finding proper clothes to wear when I read 
poetry at a Rest Home Remembrance Day soiree 

Yes, I’d agreed to do the deed for a friend so shirts & 
trousers with proper shoes had to be rediscovered in 
a mood of raw rectitude caused by whose idea it was 

To put ‘em somewhere else in the first place - but she 
graciously locates ‘em, & irons a shirt free of creases, 
before departing for her Tuesday Grandma duties 

And all that’s left for me is to gee up the slow cooker 
with Indian spiced vegetables to a little more √©clat - I 
won’t go overboard, & make it to the gate where Her

Grace awaits a morning apple offer in a resigned but 
patient stance punctuated with a warm whinny - now 
its time for me to get busy brushing a reefer jacket 

Intended to make me look like I do readings regularly 
wearing polished English-style shoes; truly I haven’t 
worn ‘em in years, but I’ve never really needed to 
© 31 May 2016, I. D. Carswell 

19 August 2016

Credibility




It amazes me how these backbench gurus of an 
ego-styled indolence - & I almost said indigence, 
but they don’t seem to suffer the lack of a penny, 
manage to become Treasury experts in critiques 
of the Opposition’s budgetary proposals - sure it 
doesn’t predispose advice of vast intelligence or 
enable predictive visions ‘graphically imbued’ by 
subtle clues as to what their agenda actually is 

We’re seeing ‘em earning re-election credits for 
better or worse, but the professed expertise will 
be absent - or worse, exposed as a calumnious 
diatribe after the event, if anyone should care a 
whit and most don’t; isn’t it an election when th’ 
debate destroys all the participants’ credibility 
© 26 May 2016, I. D. Carswell 

18 August 2016

Circulation



Well, the air IS circulating, and in the most basic 
sense, cools the skin I’ve bared, although it isn’t 
achieved in harmony with what you’d like as the 
perfect recipe - and humidity reduction never did 
feature in 40 year old bedroom-ceiling ‘light’ and 
fan combinations. But the blades dutifully turn to 
waft air my way without evident complaint - so a 
wee bit of humility is called for, & fondly graced 

If there is a suggestion of discontent it would be 
in malevolent bent of mosquitos and midges; its 
all too obviously opportunity for them to ‘pursue’ 
the good life with panache, & they do, with faith 
to the manor borne - so we’re halfway to what’ll 
most likely be a touch√© win-win situation 
©15 February 2016, I. D. Carswell

17 August 2016

Beating The Heat



Been one of those use-it-or-lose-it days where any 
idea you had failed the heat test - & at 40℃ in the 
shade it quickly established who’s going to pass & 
who’s best left under the fan; me mate Podge had 
a keen sense of opportunity so before the sun got 
too vicious we visited the dam site, were home by 
8am - & since, he’s been under the bed advisedly 
snoring - if it’s what dogs do redressing the heat 

But he did accompany me to the mailbox at 2pm - 
a mistake he agrees - particularly as again, it was 
empty; he sees that’s a double-damnation form of 
serendipity gone massively asymmetrical in what 
proved the most brutal day he’d indulged me with 
a spontaneous show of good mate’s solidarity 
©16 February 2016, I. D. Carswell

16 August 2016

Woodford On Saturday

A not-to-be-refused Saturday - yeah, we know 
they come around regularly, and sure, that’s a 
bonus you’d usually depend on - but because 
we’ve planned a Library trip rather than an in-
vogue visit to CC’s bakery along with the mob 
who randomly park their motorcycles out front 
and sip coffee, we’ll quietly sidle past a scene 
so grotesquely domesticated its almost funny 

Okay - Woodford Village on Saturday morning 
is th’ place where passionate motorcyclists go
to parade their shiny beasts, a decorous ritual 
which I’d guess has been going on for years - 
they habitually travel together in large groups
and congregate quietly at CC’s, which in itself 

Is amazing given a panoply of noise stridently 
accompanying their arriving and leaving; if an 
occasion needs a unique signature, there it is 
in stereo; altho’ the locals don’t usually bat an 
eyelid, they’ll winge a bit if IGA’s parking lot is 
unduly Harley Davidson compromised 
© 13 February 2016, I. D. Carswell

15 August 2016

Shelley Beach



Really don’t mind the trip to Shelley Beach, its 
quite accessible and easily unique despite the 
suburban indemnity - in fact there’s the rub so 
to speak, it’s one of the few to which dogs are 
allowed - under proper control of course - tho’ 
we’ve never seen anything but these satisfied 
and very well-mannered canines disporting in 
an atmosphere of cooperative agreement 

Couldn’t say it for all people who congregate - 
not everyone’s a dog owner - but a moot point 
anyway - the sea always has the final word as 
an arbiter of indifference - there’s room for the 
magnificence to naturally inoculate all equal - 
plus the rocky-beach sounds to cleanse away 
dissonance of echoes odd to a sea’s blessing 
- and that is precisely the reason we came 

© 10 November 2015, I.D. Carswell

14 August 2016

That Sunday Market



The Sunday stall still comes around like a vapid 
dream, not that we’re up and at ‘em - we ceased 
the ritual’s pretence some way back; these days 
a leisurely lie-in almost lends credence though it 
breeds shadowy hints of guilt-feeling - as if such 
indolence will lead to imaginable catastrophes & 
we’d best keep on our feet to combat ‘em; trying 
to stay ahead of those inventions isn’t easy 

But the ingrained idea we are meant to be some 
where else, like at the Market selling fruit, isn’t a 
figment of imagination, & there’s no lessening of 
angst; th’ bloody market stall cross just won’t let 
go you vex to no-one in particular - keeps me on
on the move because I don’t genuinely relax 
© 14 February 2016, I. D. Carswell