THE SIMPLE LIFE

[Maureen K Clifford]

THE SIMPLE LIFE

He was just a bloke with a wrap around house – some folks would call it a tent.
Inside for warmth was a pottery hearth and the wood smoke escaped from the vent
......up above in the canvas that o’er saplings wrapped
......from the lodge pole above him this part left uncapped
......to provide ventilation , avoid death when he napped
......... if the fire all oxygen had spent.

Neither you nor your mates would call his life grand, it was simple unto the extreme.
But he lived as his forefathers lived long ago - was content with his lot it would seem.
......He had soft furs for bedding, and was warmed by thick pelts.
......soft leather for footwear , and jerkins and belts.
......Fresh water from creeks freshened by the snows melt
......... and the best fishing hole ever seen.

Every day that he lived was a day filled with life and quietitude somewhat enthralling.
No flush sanitation or Blackberry phone – a fact some folks would find appalling.
......Too soon there were those who would sweep him away
......not wanting a hippy type of bloke to stay
......though harming no one, nor in anyones way
......... or suburban development stalling.

She came in her car with her clipboard in hand, sent out from the towns council chambers.
She asked had he permits or letters to say he could stay here. Did he have disclaimers?
......He shook his head and he offered her tea,
......said with her thoughts he just could not agree
......the Lord made the earth and he offered it free
......... as he’d already told the park rangers.

He told her of his life as they drank a brew, how he cherished the earth, loved the land.
His lifestyle was frugal, but healthy as well, and his time was his own – quite unplanned.
......He took not a cent from the Government’s coffers.
......He worked if he had to, if not, wasn’t bothered;
......and always he kept himself open to offers.
......... He lived like a natural man.

She sat and she listened, blue eyes opened wide as he spoke of the crisp and clear morning.
He told how Kookaburras woke up the sun, of the soft and pink clouds of the dawning.
......He told of the roos that each day came to drink
......and how small spotted chital with goats interlinked,
......two species together both working in cinque.
......... His morning parade never boring.

So next time that you drive down the dirt road near town and you go past the wrap around house.
You shouldn’t be too surprised to know that the hippy bloke now has a spouse.
......Together each morning they sit and they see
......how all animals live in sweet harmony
......and it is as natural as natural can be
......... and I reckon it sounds pretty grouse.

Maureen Clifford 03/11

[Maureen K Clifford]

Gee Marty I don't know I thought it was poetry or maybe a song as I had music in my head as I was writing it - I don't call it anything. Maybe Manfred can help - I am not into the technicalities Mate sorry... a fan of the simple life myself. But I am very happy you liked the effect.

Cheers

Maureen

[Heather]

Peely's watching. He'll know

[Peely]

G'day All

I don't know that there is a technical name for this type of stanza form - there is not a name given to it in the poetry textbook that I have anyway, "The Poet's Manual and Rhyming Dictionary" by Frances Stillman. I have written a couple of poems using the same rhyming scheme (a, a, b, b, b, a) but with a different arrangement of feet (I think I had 5, 5, 4, 4, 4, 5) and I also used iambic metre.

Regards


John Peel

[manfredvijars]

Marty, stop rollicking your fussetts. Peely, settle petal ...

Mauzy, I've seen the style, the pattern as well as many of the letters used in the gramatical construction of similar pieces. After careful consideration and researching mounds of texts from learned old farts. I'm of the opinion that the piece is written in English with minimal obfuscation, metaphor and simili. A simple story-line (well, it's from a Sheila's perspective so it has to be). Simply, a government type Sheila heard that there was a 'hottie' just up the road. So she checks this Bloke out (looking official and probably wearing glasses to intimidate the aforementioned chappy). Sees this bloke is sitting on a goldmine, so she promptly shacks up with him.

Happy ever after??? Not on your life - She got the goldmine and he got the shaft! How do I know? My ex used the exact same Solicitor.

I would call the piece, Simple Life Shafted. ...

[Neville Briggs]

To work out the technicalities of poetic form Marty, what you do is prise open your wallet, when the moths have all dispersed you go and purchase a copy of that book that Peely mentioned or The Ode Less Travelled by Stephen Fry and read from cover to cover.
The literati bookshops in Canbra are sure to have one or the other available.
It will be a revelation, I promise.

[Neville Briggs]

That's not luxury Marty, it's a poet's vital educational material .

You could try the library, they get books in for you if they don't have them on hand.

[Glenny Palmer]

That sheila came around to croc when he was still a misogynistic,* confirmed (so he thought) bachelor-hermit . (* 'that's a bit severe' he'll say.)
Anyway....how she got her clipboard inside I dunno, but once in there she proceeded to state her declarations on 'lifestyle.' While she was in 'full throttle' she picked up his big bowl of 'frugals' * that he'd been saving for a month or more, & dumped them in the bin.

* 'frugals' the one third of unsmoked roll yer owns he'd stubbed out...kept for 'emergencies'. I suggested 'you should give up smoking, it'll kill you'....& he replied, 'I'd hate to die tongueing for a smoke!'

Anyway...I think she had to have her clipboard surgically removed after that....

Sorry Maureen...very interesting structure. Goodonyaluv.

Glenny

[Hully]

Tops Maureen,
Very tops.....I reckon if you want to waste 20 precious hours reading Stephen Fry and further 10 ruining a perfectly fine piece of writing then go ahead.... but one would ask....why???

Glenny - please send off a pidgeon to that scaly old grump and tell him I miss him and his beautiful poems and I can organise a piece of number 8 to be rolled out to wherever he is if thats whats needed to get him back online - I know it aint perfick....but sometimes good enough is bloody great....

thanks Maureen.

h

[Glenny Palmer]

G'daaay Hully,
Bonza to 'see' you again mate. Between flood relief work, (which is diminishing his bank balance to....not desirable) & the 'little jobs' I have around here, (gotta strike while the iron's hot...when he blows in) he's a tad overtired. But I've been nagging him. 'You promised Zondrae a poem'...etc etc. I'll pack a picnic lunch & drag him into a rainforest where he can loll in a swamp to regenerate.....that might do the trick.
Cheeers
Glenny