Sir F. Chook, Inventor of Leopard Oil

Likeness captured upon a daguerrotype machine in Japan, July 1891

Lettres

Wherein the Author reflects upon certain topical & personal issues of the Day.

Some Familial Verse!

Penned upon the 8th of May, 2007

Sir Fredericks are not created in workshops, nor do we grow on the shady sides of rocks. No, I have a family, who have been bouncing about the Australian Colonies since the 1840s. You might recall my wonderful brother! My mother, also, is an artist and poet, as well as a dear friend, and I thought I might share some of her poetry with you.


Thinking of Jack Kerouac
MARGARET CHAPMAN

Kerouac sat in the bathroom
writing books on speed.
Well I was on the road myself
back in ’73.
Living out of a suitcase
reaching for a dream.

Kerouac died
from his alcohol highs,
searching for love and peace
in a bottle.
In an uncaring world
that refused to give
the great love
such great genius needs.

I mourn for you Jack Kerouac
like I mourn my youth.
And I think I understand some of
your glory, your pain and your truth.
Confused, between the Holy Grail,
the smoke and the booze.
Searching only to be saved
and finding only
the word.


A Different Time
MARGARET CHAPMAN

They came from a different time
our parents.
The world was at war against Hitler.
Now there are Hitlers all over the world.
Their life was a black and white film,
a wood-framed sepia print
of men in suits
and women in hats,
the susso, the swaggie,
taking to the road
to make a quid.
Rations and rickets
and grim faced mums.
Stoic, kind and holding on
for dear life to their pride
And avenues of honour,
a tree for each who died.

Now we see it over dinner on the news.
Atrocities of war
and could you pass the salt and Perrier.
Lacking Mum’s resilience
and Dad’s larrikin humour,
apathy suppresses our despair,
With pressure cooker violence everywhere.
They came from a different time.
The world was at war.
Did they think then that Good could survive
in a world gone insane at the core?


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