The Pink Tutu

PINK SATURDAY

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THE PINK TUTU

Perhaps the other ladies have a certain charm and poise,

I like the way each dancer points a toe.

None of them could be mistaken for muscle-chested boys;

Knowing their craft, they make their movements flow.

*

True, each one is elegant, delectable and young,

Up on her points, part of a graceful link.

The sad part is, your expertise is sure to go unsung

Unless your tutu is a brilliant pink.

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                                                              Newcastle NSW

OUR SHIPWRECKS

Walk along Nobby's Breakwater; turn your eyes from the land

And imagine all the wrecks beneath the sea.

The mouldering hulks seem vanished, but some are lying there,

A sorry part of our city's history.

And somewhere, if we could find them, lie forgotten human remains,

Skeletons, including  ancient skulls,

And the waves beat above them ceaselessly, with that ageless maritime roar,

Joining in the chorus of the gulls.

And they were flesh and blood like us, they had their hopes and dreams;

And the Hunter River seemed a haven then;

So near the land they foundered, yet most could not be saved;

Remember them, these long-forgotten men.

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