does anybody know any good Australian poems which has at least 6-7 stanzas???

Answer 1

Oy!

More Beer!

That's right!

Over here!

Silly git!

Don't quit!

I'm dry!

I will die!

Answer 2

Are you sure, you're lookin for those poems?
There're aplenty on the web-links unless you've no f-idea where to look!
Below is just one poem by one singer Down-under whose family emigrated to Australia!
Look also for my favorite poet, Dame Mary Gilmore.

Try to search for the poet's name. That'd be a more challenging task.


Dead thoughts of corpses by Ivan Donn Carswell
The symbols that we use are T shirts of the dead
thoughts of corpses without heads, a rictus
without sound – open-mouthed, empty, unbound.
And if you ever write those clichés which incite
my approbation, **** you, I am not amused.
And if I ever do, then **** me too.

I battle with the icons of our time, not so much the images as
those inclined to overuse the gushing phrases, rabid writers
praising vapid lies, journalistic worms still at the maggot stage
of feeding on the headless corpses, reading symbols from their
graphic shirts, descending into dismal depths of gutter
meaninglessness and desperate doggerel.

The nearest I have heard a ‘personality’ decline
hysterical inanity was when he said,
“that’s real life, it doesn’t always have
a happy ending…” he had described his own demise,
he fell from grace, he was displaced by higher ratings
inspired through insipid boardroom compromise.

My sympathy was strained within a breath of balanced reason,
drained of all compassion and decision by the consequences
rising from Steve Irwin’s death. When networks went beyond the pale
of deference and showed the clichéd scenes of Steve and baby Bob
and croc repeatedly as counterpoint I was incensed. He’d died that afternoon.
And there they were, already feeding on a feast of vile controversy.

But further yet, the eunuch ***** with no veneer, of course
I mean her holiness Ms Germaine Greer, thundered into print
to plant her boot as firmly as she could into a legend she
maintains is self-delusion. Not unusual for Germaine.
The Doctor has delusions too, she believes with vagrant honesty
that she eclipses Steve in every form of tragi-comedy.

Forgive Germaine diffusing post-menopausal class delusion,
back in her menses and her prime she was a tart of class.
But if I died would it ignite the journalistic anchovies?
I called them nasty names and damned their plight, I hope
I earn precocious right to cause a feeding frenzy by them,
and pray that irukandji bite them on the disrespectful ****…

.

Answer 3

It was in the Queensland drought
And over hill and dell,
No grass – the water far apart,
All dry and hot as hell.
The wretched bullock teams drew up
Beside a water-hole –

They’d struggled on through dust and drought
For days to reach this goal.
And though the water rendered forth
A rank, unholy stench,
The bullocks and the bullockies
Drank deep their thirst to quench.

Two of the drivers cursed and swore
As only drivers can.
The other one, named Daniel,
Best known as Holy Dan,
Admonished them and said it was
The Lord’s all-wise decree;
And if they’d only watch and wait,
A change they’d quickly see.

’Twas strange that of Dan’s bullocks
Not one had gone aloft,
But this, he said, was due to prayer
And supplication oft.
At last one died but Dan was calm,
He hardly seemed to care;
He knelt beside the bullock’s corpse
And offered up a prayer.

"One bullock Thou has taken, Lord,
And so it seemeth best.
Thy will be done, but see my need
And spare to me the rest!"

A month went by. Dan’s bullocks now
Were dying every day,
But still on each occasion would
The faithful fellow pray,
"Another Thou has taken, Lord,
And so it seemeth best.
Thy will be done, but see my need,
And spare to me the rest!"

And still they camped beside the hole,
And still it never rained,
And still Dan’s bullocks died and died,
Till only one remained.
Then Dan broke down – good Holy Dan –
The man who never swore.
He knelt beside the latest corpse,
And here’s the prayer he prore.

"That’s nineteen Thou has taken, Lord,
And now You’ll plainly see
You’d better take the bloody lot,
One’s no damn good to me."
The other riders laughed so much
They shook the sky around;
The lightning flashed, the thunder roared,
And Holy Dan was drowned.

Answer 4

nicely i assume its greater beneficial than a 4. yet a 6 isnt solid to me reason maximum ppl i see are a 5-6, or a six. as in i dont se many gruesome ppl, and ya see a handful of great warm ppl. a 7 wouldnt be undesirable, a 6 could be close to accepted to me reason all and sundry i see almost is a pair of 6. of direction theres a handful that are decrease than that. i swear ppl would be gettin greater beneficial lookin, reason i dont bear in mind as many solid lookin ppl while out to me a 7 minimum and eight is solid, good solid. i wouldnt pass via ratins in simple terms be you, like once I see a guy i dont value him yet while somebody asks me i visit, i dont get it , you pass around askin ppl for a score??? 6-7 aint undesirable, its what maximum ppl look opt for to me. like sixty 5 p.c. of the inhabitants or 60, just about all human beings you look at is the two nicely-known or somewhat greater beneficial than nicely-known. at present i see greater solid lookin ppl i think of yet in line with possibility its in my head, dont understand, greater solid lookin than 10 years in the past shall we are saying

Answer 5

Yes if you BOTHER to read the poetry anthology they gave you at school you will find the answer to your homework!

Shame on you for NOT reading the set text /anthology!

If they didnt hand out source material at class go to the library and find an anthology!