Keith Shorrocks Johnson

Every man who has a serviceable soul
Is not whole but contains a chimera
The twin girl child of his earliest youth
Whose emotions live on enveloped.
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Like us the year had life, was born and dies:
Its immediacy did not exist
Before we were born to sentience -
And all too soon will be dismissed.
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When young you were as stunning as the dawn
Red clouds threatening an impending storm
Older you are as lovely as the dusk
Quiet in twilight now the storm has passed.
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I love to cook two crispy snacks
Of Aussie grub and Kiwi tucker,
But the little crawlies both have knacks
Of gumming up my cooker.
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Yesterday we sort of rescued an old man
Who had crossed The Parade at Wakefield Park
Stumbled and cracked his head so hard on the pavement
That the paramedic could see his skull –
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In mid-year when the grass was thin
The buttercups would gild the fields
But when the hay was gathered in
Daisy-dust each swathe revealed.
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As the stars reverberate
I cup my ear to listen
And hear repeated
Resonating
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Economists are generally unromantic creatures
And visiting Hyderabad to make a presentation
On Public Sector Finance
I was more interested in buying cheap silk
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I stepped up taking both your hands in mine
They were delicate and cold and ghostly,
Flesh against metal contacting eerily:
I flinched slightly at our standing back time.
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But Strewth, the winnin'! Ow they loves this ‘frill
Scrabblin' with the kids at Bondi on the beach
When a ‘wowser' gets yous double-word
And Strine is spelt as well as heard:
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The cat has whorled itself on the duvet
Burying its head into its fluffy tail
Losing its nose in a quiet smile
And its body in a rhythmic sleep -
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There revealed from a bend in the river
Was the most perfect of little towns
A cathedral's cupolas crowning the bluff:
At the wharf a nose-bagged nag
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Poets often use many words
To say a simple thing.
It takes thought and time and rhyme
To make a poem sing.
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The kuku loves domestic bliss
The kaka likes life’s turns and twists

The kuku is at its best at home
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There are problems with relativity
And matching it to quantum mechanics
In trying to understand how
In the great scheme of things
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If you were the last of your kind
What song would you sing
And who would you sing it for?
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The roguish golden sun kisses the hills
And lustred meadows feel the warming touch
The gilded streams respond with sleepy smiles
And protestations that won't count for much;
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I was in the 4-Square at Waitarere
Buying a Dom-Post and an icey-pole
When I lost it and bought ‘Vs Moments'.
It promised a Cinematic View
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My head aches and throbbing numbness pains
My sense, as though of Bundy I had drunk
As I drag my bike out from the drains
One minute past where pavement-wards had sunk;
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The week before mid-winter’s day
Young Nick’s judgement went astray -
Spying aloft for cape and bay
He snoozed too long and missed the way.
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