Jerry Behr Number 2

Rookie - 0 Points (3/2/1951 / Netherlands)

Windowsill - Poem by Jerry Behr Number 2

The windowsill of my room is level with the walkway
outside, and through my window I can see trees, shrubbery and greenery and some and it all looks so peaceful and quiet.
The scenery is mesmerizing and I easily forgot past years
when I was struggling on the dole queue with many fears.

Then I remember the echoes of old Henry Lawson when he said.

'They lie, the men who tell us, for reasons of their own,
That want is here a stranger, and misery's unknown;
For where the nearest suburb and the city proper meet
My windowsill is level with the faces in the street
Drifting past, drifting past,
To the beat of weary feet.
While I sorrow for the owners of those faces in the street.'

Centrelink likes very much that the scenery remains peaceful
and quiet and people remain mesmerized by honkydoryness
and not to see the in the street.

Then there is the ghost of Lawson saying.

'I wonder would the apathy of wealthy men endure
were all their windows level with the faces of the poor?
Ah! Mammon's slaves, your knees shall knock, your hearts in terror beat, when God demands a reason for the sorrows of the street.
The wrong things and the bad things
And the sad things that we meet
In the filthy lane and alley, and the cruel, heartless street.'

They lie, the men who tell us that unemployment is only 4.9 percent and we are the best in the world and we have nothing to fear about the dole or Centrelink.

But then there is Lawson's 'Realities' biting hard, about Australia and the way it really is on the street.

'And now all blurred and smirched with vice the day's sad end is seen. For where the short 'large hours' against the longer 'small
hour' lean. With smiles that mock the wearer, and with words that half entreat, Delila pleads for custom at the corner of the street.
Sinking down, sinking down,
Battered wreck by tempests beat
A dreadful, thankless trade is hers, that women of the street.'


As I look out of my windowsill at the walkway and street
I wonder for how long will those men tell their lies about how good Australia is and being the best in the. The lies that not many people are on the dole and there are no worries on the.

Looking out of my windowsill at the walkway and street
I shake off the mesmerizing effects of being so peaceful
and quiet and look at the realities of the city street.
Lawson warns that in the past.

'Like a swollen river that has broken bank and wall the human flood came pouring with red flages over all.
And kindled eyes all blazing bright with revolution's heat
Flashing swords reflecting rigid faces in the street.

Pouring on, pouring on,
To a drum's loud threatening beat
And the war- hymns and the cheering of the people of the street.'

Looking out of my cultural windowsill at the mesmerizing view
of the walkway and city street
seeing the realities I got up and walked to the door
and closed the view of the walkway and city street.©

8/5/2012


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Poem Submitted: Saturday, May 19, 2012

Poem Edited: Friday, January 10, 2014


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