Travelling back, going forward (at the village reunion) Of course you can’t go back, the mind plays tricks distorting, colouring at will, and you imagine what it will be like - to meet up again. But nothing prepares you for the actuality of that first encounter. There will be some you haven’t seen for fifty years along with some that you will never see again. You accept that initial shock of change before recognition and the acknowledgment of ‘yes it is him, or her’. Then it is the past living again, the past that attaches irrevocably, continuously, the past you can’t escape from. Someone says ‘do you remember’ and you likewise retort ‘do you remember!’ each triggering. And they are here now, with you again. Their memories coalesced with your understanding. The way it was. And smiles broaden in the wake of rekindled friendship when the world was opening wide before you. They say ‘you haven’t changed’. They are oblivious to the you that is now. But perhaps they are right, that there is something permanent beneath the skin. A certain character which you unwittingly showed in those formative years. But it was something quite unexpected that totally caught you off balance. A forgotten girlfriend recognised you instantly welcoming you with an immediate hug. She still slim in body and in that brief moment a perfect fit. Then time to disperse, to pick up the threads of ongoing life, to let that unsettling emotional swing subside. You were part of them and they will remain part of you. And the past continues irrevocably to define who you are. Richard Scutter July 2019
My Poems
Posts that contain my poems
Nevertheless – An Easter Poem
Nevertheless
nevertheless, it is true
nevertheless, whether you believe,
believe elsewhere
or just don’t believe
for nevertheless He is latent,
the he that exists or doesn’t exist,
nevertheless, supporting you
recognised or not
nevertheless it is nice to know too,
that he cares!
and nevertheless his light
shines through this Easter
nevertheless, yes, nevertheless
you care to open the window
Richard Scutter Easter 2022
A follow up on my previous Easter Post where Michael Thwaites used that one word ‘Nevertheless’ in his poem ‘The Word’.
Easter greetings to all.
May you be brightened by the light that is the power of love.
A Message to my Granddaughters
A Message to my Granddaughters in response to Michael Thwaites
Sometimes you slowly still,
and within a certain satisfaction exudes
into a self-absorbed contentment.
And you say a quiet thank you,
as a peace envelops the soul.
Sometimes you slowly still.
I chose a marvellous city to call home,
the break of morning, the stars departing,
The mirror lake, the cutting Autumn air,
The sun unfolding on the Brindabellas –
I chose a marvellous city to call home.
And what a city, your native city. The expansive view from Mt Ainslie portrays Walter Burley Griffin’s plan in the continual change of trees, hills, water, his forever friends in living beauty.
And in this vista, commanding features -
St John’s Church, the War Memorial,
Civic Centre, The National Library,
the new and old Parliament buildings,
Regatta Point, Commonwealth Gardens,
Capital Hill … and so much more, caught
in the moment of an Autumn morning.
But will you appreciate in likewise fashion
And will your days stretch to a contented life
and will you, when time falls back against the years,
will you … well, who knows! …
But on this morning, I will say again –
I chose a marvellous city to call home.
Richard Scutter March 2022, Canberra
March is the start of Autumn in Canberra. And this year it has not been a case of a sweltering summer and the autumn change will not be so dramatic; but always a time to appreciate the beauty of the changing colours of the trees.
And on this day, it is a time to value your home wherever you live. Hopefully, your home has not been violated by needless violence generated by future fear from another country.
All the best, Richard
Australia Day – A Personal Poem
Australia, Australia, Australia
It was the dignified ship horn blasts that heralded hello
together with the salute from a myriad of smaller craft
that highlighted the welcome …
… giving their shake wave acknowledgement against the magnificence of our sizeable vessel - the ‘Galileo’. The ship moved at a stately slow pace.
As the bow cut gracefully in the still sea, it was
as if, from the depths, a bubbling champagne effervescence
glittered glorious Spring sunshine into life.
That unforgettable early Sunday morning in September 1969. After four weeks, standing on top deck with ‘Rottnest Island' on the right, and ‘Fremantle’ discernible and increasing in definition.
That first impression, the hello to a new life,
a new country, a new week, and that first day
of my beginning -
Australia, Australia, Australia
I try to hold on to that memory, of that initial day. Like catching a new fish, fresh out of the sea.
That amazing sight of something stunningly beautiful just caught and held against the light of day - those first few moments.
Australia, Australia, Australia
Richard Scutter 26 January 2022, Australia Day
Galileo Galilei – A Lloyd Triestino ship built in 1963 that plied migrants from Italy to Australia
Rottnest – an Island close to Freemantle, the port entrance to city of Perth, Western Australia
Tell me not – A New Year Poem
Tell me not
for those a little advanced in age
Tell me not of all your pain what you can’t afford and more of that dropped litter in the lane about that sister you disdain.
Tell me not of times now fled
when every bird sang at your will
of lost days that swamp your head
where you squander with the dead.
But from the window of your seat dance your mind up to the sky sweep the sun around your feet with your eye this moment meet.
Let a smile come to your face greet the New Year with gentle grace.
Richard Scutter 31/12/21
The Christmas Word – An Advent Poem
What word is this what word is this that sullies forth its annual opening of eye that generates such hope that more meaning such to the hopeful gives bandied before the year does end but no end if known of knowing blend what word is this that bleeds the heart to pray suffer such indigent love unknown yet same vein courses all life through in never-ending beauty, unveiling of eternal body splendid, that imperfect diamond creator spirit shines tis Christmas Christmas! where the forever gift is born and in the perpetrators mind becomes again that one great joy everlasting in the flesh absorbed Richard Scutter Advent 2021
‘No Bull’ – A personal encounter
No Bull
No bull, this is real
he looks at me chewing cud
I look at him
you have quite a bit of muscle
I’m glad the fence is in-between
how many press-ups, weights?
or is all just natural with you
he doesn’t ruffle to my thoughts
and just goes on a-chewing
but I can imagine action, I wouldn’t want to get in his way! it reminded me, as a boy, when camping with the ‘Scouts’ in Scotland
No bull, this is true history
we pulled up late at dusk
and hurriedly put the tents up in the corner
of a field and were soon fast asleep
it was in unsuspecting morning light
and you can guess!
when opening the tent flap door
to be confronted so!
No bull, it was shock of the first degree then ‘Scout’ action never seen before and ever since then I have, what can I say a certain face-to-face respect.
Richard Scutter October 2021
The context of this poem is embedded in the text, what is more interesting is what prompted these words. We were visiting an historic cemetery in Canberra which entailed walking along a path adjacent to a paddock with this bull close by and the photograph above is of that animal. And by association it took me back to camping with the Scouts in Scotland. This triggered a latent experience long forgotten. And Scottish highland cattle are quite something to behold but this animal certainly had a touch of menace as I looked at him with interest.
Depression: A personal poem
A personal Haibun poem on depression – (a poem which incorporates text, an image and haiku)
We all have a wide span of emotive feeling. That is the natural way of life. It is just that some have very high extremes at both ends of the scale. And this can be quite devarstating to all concerned. This is especially so if medical intervention is required.
The following happened in the early nineteen fifties in England.
When we were growing up; I can’t remember exactly how old I was but still at primary school. I was probably around about nine or ten years old. I was behind the garage wall with my younger brother. We peeped around to the front of our house and saw our mother being taken out of the front door on a stretcher to be put in the back of an ambulance. We were young and did not recognise that it was in fact an ambulance.
She was taken to a ‘Fair Mile’, then called a Lunatic Asylum, near Wallingford in Berkshire and for many weeks our Father would drive us to visit her; mainly at weekends. I can remember summer days when the fields were full of wheat. Quite often my brother and I spent a lot of time in the grounds waiting for the return trip home in the Morris Isis. It is funny how you remember little things in life and I can remember the number plate. On the home front we children were looked after by one of my Father’s sisters, Auntie Gwen.
What is relevant to this text is the fact that something had to change with Mother so that she could recover and return to our home. Many years later Mother told me that she went into an empty church nearby and when she came out of the stillness something had happened inside, both in the church and in herself and it was the beginning.
damp afternoon
reaching for the light switch
depression
Richard Scutter May 2021
my word in your ear 