ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

All this talk of 'profanities' made me remember a poem I wrote for the politics theme of the Toolangi comp. I wrote it the week before the election - the closing date was election day. It sunk without trace, maybe because it has a naughty word in there, or maybe because it was just crap. I suspect the latter. Uh oh, that's probably another naughty word


Here 'tis ...

Come September

We’re heading for a federal election.
The promises are coming thick and fast.
The candidates, all fearful of rejection,
are out to buy each vote that we may cast.

They’ll pay us if we want to have a baby,
the only point of difference - how much.
It’s welfare for the middle class and maybe
the lot of them have lost the common touch.

Political debate has become boring.
The worm is too lethargic, cannot turn.
What used to fire our bellies leaves us snoring
while for the candidates of old we yearn.

A big man says it’s time for a new party,
a party for the common working folks.
In suit and tie he’s looking hale and hearty,
a billionaire who’s ‘just one of the blokes’.

He’s twerking on a television station,
rebuilding the Titanic, all brand new,
and in amongst his plans for our great nation
there’s room to squeeze a dinosaur or two.

The major parties just ignore his antics,
a storm within a teacup that will pass,
and they go on debating the semantics
of policies while Palmer shakes his arse.

They don’t think it is likely we’ll elect him,
but then again you never really know.
It might be a mistake to disrespect him.
We’re not too happy with the status quo.

And so they go on promising us gravy
while yesterday we barely had a train
and men in ties of blue, both royal and navy,
throw money at us in their mad campaign.

One thing’s for sure no matter what the outcome
of promises of goodies thrown our way
by over zealous candidates, no doubt come
September there will be a price to pay.

And so they go on promising us gravy
while yesterday we barely had a train

What a classic line that is Leonie - love it. It was probably ignored more because it touched on politics than any other reason. I would think politics and religion probably send poetry judges running for cover.

I like it Shame Clive's twerking didn't help get him a seat though Only my opinion of course

Thanks Maureen.

I don't know about the twerking, but he did win Fairfax eventually didn't he? After how many recounts? I believe he was sworn in yesterday. He reckons he's no longer involved in the running of his companies and is now a full time MP.

Love him or hate him politics will no doubt be more 'interesting' for him being there.

Oh and my poem wasn't flicked because it was about politics, the category was politics. It just wasn't good enough on the day. I've read the winning poems and I have to agree. This one was beaten fair and square. I think Will Moody (Bellobazza) won this category from memory.

G/day Leonie,

Perhaps you should have used 'DERRIERE' might have just jot it over the line.

Good to see another one from you, about time I did the same myself, but my writing has ground to a stop of late - too busy with other less important things.

Cheers Terry

He did Leonie - I saw that last night - he got my vote Pipped Katter at the post - it was the twerking that swayed me but I'm easily pleased

Terry, somehow the word 'derriere' doesn't quite come to mind when contemplating Clive's Palmer's bum, not that I contemplate his bum all that often you understand.

I'm not writing all that much these days either. This was the first new one for a while and like anything I do manage to write lately it just felt sort of mediocre. Oh well, hopefully inspiration will hit again some time soon.

Hey Maureen, I'm kind of pleased Clive eventually won Fairfax too. I bet Campbell Newman isn't though. I very much doubt that Clive is on Can Do's Christmas List.