I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral
Comments
Your poem here seems like a puzzle poem. I need to separate them out to get the words. I have been trying but not succeeded yet. Am I in the right direction? Or is this something else?
Those must be the words of your poem (am I right?), but then I cannot make the sentence out of it...grrr...ok, good excuse - English is not my tongue.
Ok, this is absolutely lovely. Come on, give us some more puzzles to work on.
in order to work I need some ideas
things need some ideas in order to work
ideas need some things in order to work
some things need ideals in order to work
??
Say, what?
Getting close?
Once the poem is out, the author is dead.
Long live the reader!