If you vote for me

 

Selected poems

 

 

Vote for me

 

Cars will be turned into flutes;

sheep graze in public parks.

 

Trams will be lined with books;

prisons, wisteria-walled.

 

Politicians will sing in choirs;

accountants taught to tango.

 

The old will have honour and cake

and a licence for practical jokes.

 

The middle-aged will lie on grass

and watch the procession of clouds.

 

The young will be loved and learn

that to live is to be slowly born.

 

 

 

Benedictus

 

When you are ten

I may not be here

though you will find remembrances

deep-hidden in a drawer

 

poems (this one for sure)

and my grandfather's watch

meant for a waist-coat pocket

and never used though

sometimes taken out and laid

across my palm

 

and a lost presence mixing

with the cedared air

to bless your unblemished skin

and wide-opening eyes.

 

 

 

Give us this day our daily water

 

more to be desired than bread

bright chameleon pulsing

in the ocean's plenitude

 

delight in its transitions

fog steam ice snow

its power of resurrection

 

give honour to rain-bellied

clouds soon to give birth

deep soaking of red soil

 

bless all things aqueous

pearls bouncing off green

bride of new grass

 

our flesh married to water

 

 

 

Grass

 

Earth as far as

the blurred mountains

is washed with green,

cattle bent in gratitude

for tufted bounty

and for trillion-fold

seeds underfoot.

 

Let's not call

these weeds that cover

the wounds of the world

while we sleep.

All flesh is grass the prophet said,

and our spent bodies, merged

with teeming soil, rise

towards light in drifts

of healing blades.

 

 

 


Bill RushBill is a Melbourne writer and has published three books of poetry. His last book was Into the World's Light. He is a retired pharmacist with a theology degree.

Topic tags: poetry, Bill Rush

 

 

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Existing comments

BENEDICTUS. How on Earth did you know about my grandfather's watch and that I have those cedar rings hanging in the clothes cupboard?
john frawley | 22 May 2017


I liked these eloquent, lyrical poems evoking the wonder and beauty of youth and the natural world as well as enjoying the irony of the worldly 'Vote for me'
Julie Reid | 25 May 2017


Poetry will always important. It reminds us to stop and wonder, to look at the grass and the insects, to see magic in the clouds and remind us of the fragility and precious lives we share. Novels are and I believe will continue to. Be important. They allow us to look at life through different lenses and reflect on the impact of what life challenges we face or coUld face, or what others gave endured. Thank you.
Margaret Lamb | 26 May 2017


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