Inside Ayers Rock
Inside Ayers Rock is lit
With paired fluorescent lights
On steel pillars supporting the ceiling
Of haze-blue marquee cloth
High above the non-slip pavers.
Curving around the cafeteria
Throughout vast inner space
Is a Milky way of plastic chairs
In foursomes around tables
All the way to the truck drivers’ enclave.
Dusted coolabah trees grow to the ceiling,
TVs talk in gassy colours, and
Round the walls are Outback shop fronts:
The Beehive Bookshop for brochures,
Casual Clobber, the bottled Country Kitchen
And the sheet-iron Dreamtime Experience
That is turned off at night.
A high bank of medal-ribbony
Lolly jars preside over
Island counters like opened crates,
One labelled White Mugs, and covered with them.
A two-dimensional policeman
Discourages shoplifting of gifts
And near the entrance, where you pay
For fuel, there stands a tribal man
In rib-paint and pubic tassel.
It is all gentle and kind.
In beyond the children’s playworld
There are fossils, like crumpled
Old drawings of creatures in rock.
Related poetry:
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- So, so, rock-a-by so! So, so, rock-a-by so! Off to the garden where dreamikins grow; And here is a kiss on your winkyblink eyes, And here is a kiss on your dimpledown cheek And here is a kiss for the treasure that lies In the beautiful garden way up in the skies Which you seek. Now mind these three […]...
- Inchcape Rock No stir in the air, no stir in the sea, The Ship was still as she could be; Her sails from heaven received no motion, Her keel was steady in the ocean. Without either sign or sound of their shock, The waves flow’d over the Inchcape Rock; So little they rose, so little they fell, […]...
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- The Rock and The Bubble Oh! a bare, brown rock Stood up in the sea, The waves at its feet Dancing merrily. A little bubble Once came sailing by, And thus to the rock Did it gayly cry, “Ho! clumsy brown stone, Quick, make way for me: I’m the fairest thing That floats on the sea. “See my rainbow-robe, See […]...
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- Sonnet II: High on a Rock High on a rock, coaeval with the skies, A Temple stands, rear’d by immortal pow’rs To Chastity divine! ambrosial flow’rs Twining round icicles, in columns rise, Mingling with pendent gems of orient dyes! Piercing the air, a golden crescent tow’rs, Veil’d by transparent clouds; while smiling hours Shake from their varying wings celestial joys! The […]...
- To Rich Givers WHAT you give me, I cheerfully accept, A little sustenance, a hut and garden, a little money-these, as I rendezvous with my poems; A traveler’s lodging and breakfast as I journey through The States-Why should I be ashamed to own such gifts? Why to advertise for them? For I myself am not one who bestows […]...
- The Rock Cries Out to Us Today A Rock, A River, A Tree Hosts to species long since departed, Mark the mastodon. The dinosaur, who left dry tokens Of their sojourn here On our planet floor, Any broad alarm of their of their hastening doom Is lost in the gloom of dust and ages. But today, the Rock cries out to us, […]...
- Locked Doors For the angels who inhabit this town, Although their shape constantly changes, Each night we leave some cold potatoes And a bowl of milk on the windowsill. Usually they inhabit heaven where, By the way, no tears are allowed. They push the moon around like A boiled yam. The Milky Way is their hen With […]...
- The Wind begun to rock the Grass The Wind begun to rock the Grass With threatening Tunes and low He threw a Menace at the Earth A Menace at the Sky. The Leaves unhooked themselves from Trees And started all abroad The Dust did scoop itself like Hands And threw away the Road. The Wagons quickened on the Streets The Thunder hurried […]...
- Flying Inside Your Own Body Your lungs fill & spread themselves, Wings of pink blood, and your bones Empty themselves and become hollow. When you breathe in you’ll lift like a balloon And your heart is light too & huge, Beating with pure joy, pure helium. The sun’s white winds blow through you, There’s nothing above you, You see the […]...
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- Some Advice To Those Who Will Serve Time In Prison If instead of being hanged by the neck you’re thrown inside for not giving up hope In the world, your country, your people, if you do ten or fifteen years apart from the time you have left, You won’t say, “Better I had swung from the end of a rope like a flag” You’ll put […]...
- Plymouth Rock Joe Why are you running so fast hither and thither Chasing midges or butterflies? Some of you are standing solemnly scratching for grubs; Some of you are waiting for corn to be scattered. This is life, is it? Cock-a-doodle-do! Very well, Thomas Rhodes, You are cock of the walk, no doubt. But here comes Elliott Hawkins, […]...
- To Ailsa Rock Hearken, thou craggy ocean-pyramid, Give answer by thy voice-the sea-fowls’ screams! When were thy shoulders mantled in huge streams? When from the sun was thy broad forehead hid? How long is’t since the mighty Power bid Thee heave to airy sleep from fathom dreams – Sleep in the lap of thunder or sunbeams – Or […]...
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- Riprap Lay down these words Before your mind like rocks. placed solid, by hands In coice of place, set Before the body of the mind in space and time: Solidity of bark, leaf, or wall riprap of things: Cobble of milky way, straying planets, These poems, people, lost ponies with Dragging saddles and rocky sure-foot trails. […]...
- Dust there are times When you should listen To the world I think Like for instance The time a meteorite came Through the roof and Through the ceiling and Landed on my desk in the middle of The papers and things Undone to say it Smouldered would be To become poetic But it did smoulder And […]...
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- George and the Dragon I’ll tell you the tale of an old country pub As fancied itself up to date, It had the word ” Garage” wrote on t’ stable door And a petrol pump outside the gate. The ” George and the Dragon” were t’ name of the pub, And it stood in a spot wild and bleak, […]...
- Confessions What is he buzzing in my ears? “Now that I come to die, Do I view the world as a vale of tears?” Ah, reverend sir, not I! What I viewed there once, what I view again Where the physic bottles stand On the table’s edge,-is a suburb lane, With a wall to my bedside […]...
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