Patrick Walsh: ‘Seasonal Rhetoric’
Seasonal Rhetoric
Why should my sleeve be wet with crying
When overhead, winter geese are flying?
How can I feign to lie down in my grave
With the frost reminding me I’m alive?
Where do I take my blackest mood
When ducks cross my path in a helpless brood?
And when is a man allowed time for his pain—
The smell of mayflowers again!
On whom do you pin the guilt
For the way a rainbow is built?
How can I wrestle the nagging “why”
When the mangle of summer distracts the eye?
What sense felling a few for a pyre;
The yews already burn orange like fire.
Who stays convinced of the heart’s desolation
Confronted with all these damned invitations!
Patrick Walsh
Madam: Archbishop Fisher (July-August 2024) does not resist the attacks on his church by the political, social or scientific atheists and those who insist on not being told what to do.
Aug 29 2024
6 mins
To claim Aborigines have the world's oldest continuous culture is to misunderstand the meaning of culture, which continuously changes over time and location. For a culture not to change over time would be a reproach and certainly not a cause for celebration, for it would indicate that there had been no capacity to adapt. Clearly this has not been the case
Aug 20 2024
23 mins
A friend and longtime supporter of Quadrant, Clive James sent us a poem in 2010, which we published in our December issue. Like the Taronga Park Aquarium he recalls in its 'mocked-up sandstone cave' it's not to be forgotten
Aug 16 2024
2 mins