Methinks the organisers of Australia Day have just given up on organising Australia Day. The day has now been outsourced to the public. You see now the organisers are saying “Celebrate Australia Day your way.” Really. They could not have thought of what we the people could do on the day.
Well for starters it’s become too political and almost taboo-like and no one wants to touch it let alone think of what the public could do on or with the day itself. These days, people who have an adverse reaction to the day really don’t know their history and also, people who say everything is fine and that the day should remain as is, don’t know their history either.
No matter what people think, it’s lucky to have a public holiday when politicians have been getting rid of what little public holidays that remain anyway. For those who work, are relieved for a post New Year Day break, especially in summer. For those people who don’t work, think of it as a day off from visiting Centrelink. Those who are only disappointed are school children, as it’s a holiday during the school holidays, so there’s no day off from school anyway.
As a Gen X-er, like with all issues, we’re stuck in the middle. Like the proverbial middle child who is ignored, we’re just in the background plodding along and just getting on with it. I guess you could say we’ve almost given up. But we like the idea of the “do it yourself” Australia Day holiday. You see, we’ll just do what we’ll do our way anyway as that’s how we’ve always done it. It was our idea anyway. We’re the original trendsetters. We were doing things our way long before the organisers gave up and gave the ok for people to do just that.
That was the history of Australia Day anyway. Just ask any Gen X-er about that. Listen to the wisdom of any aging Gen X-er. Besides, we could all do with a holiday anyway, just keep reminding the politicians that.
(NB: Author’s Note: this is a light-hearted humorous essay on the issue of public holidays, not on the issue concerning the Australia Day itself. Get a grip!)
Precious, by Josephine Gambaro (2001)
Peace, tranquillity, inspiration, beauty, glorious, joy, precious.
Every journey embarked upon
Along each road taken
Exploring places not seen before
Knowing, always wanting more.
The enormity of your presence
The grandeur of your existence
The wonder of all that is glorious
Revealing all that is precious.
A magnificent guardian
Standing tall and wise
Dignified and sacred
The protection you provide.
The gaze of the mystery
To search of your history
For appearances is not what it seems
To see you is more than a dream.
The murmur of your mumblings
The subtle cry of your rumblings
Above, below and all around
Reflecting all of your sound.
The time winds blow slowly
With the sun scorched earth bake dry
Trapped beneath the ton of clay
Nothing left seen with the eye.
The journey continues
It never ends
To another time and place
The beauty of your face.
To reveal what is to find
One who is so kind
Everything about you is like a dream
The visions and sounds so it seems.
Your beauty provides the inspiration
Your tranquillity provides trust
For the glory and joy being with you
Provides the peace and all that is true.
Standing at your edge
Peering into eternity
Gazing from your shore
Looking back always wanting more.
(But alas) there is no end
This journey with you my friend
For the door is always open
To be with you is more than works spoken.
(This poem I wrote, in 2001, about the beauty of Nature)
Light can come in many forms. There is natural light which is daylight from the sun. One can naturally see anything in such light. But not only that, it can create a sensation of warmth.
We are going on a journey. Entering through a portal into the light. We started in a vast enclosed space that echoed with our footsteps. The smell of dust filled the air. Natural light seeping through panels like lights on a runway, giving us direction.
We reach the other side of the portal to find a ferry that would further our journey. Where are we to go? With sunlight shining about, we could see the directions were endless. We boarded the ferry to follow the light. The view was endless. There were other people going in their own directions, following their own sun light.
The colours are much more natural, more appealing to the eye, especially if it is from nature itself. Looking at nature reflects the wonder of something organic, even if it is from a distance. But one can touch it if one so wishes to venture closer to nature and be part of it.
Nature is like a religion for some people, so is sunlight. Beliefs come in all forms and in these parts; it took the form of something that appeared unlike a religion. We have gazed at the view and it was different from this angle.
Light can come in many forms. Then there is the synthetic light. The light that appears when there is no sunlight. The colours are much brighter. The view of these lights from a distance is almost magical. These lights are appealing in their own way.
Robert Francis’ ‘Silent Poem’ is a poem that is not so silent. It is a poem which uses the figurative language. That is when the reader reads the words; they can imagine the image in their minds. In this poem, the reader would imagine in their minds a description of what is believed to be the countryside.
The poem is laid out with four words to each line, with two lines forming a stanza. There are six stanzas in total. The majority of the words are two syllables but there are a few words that are three syllables long. The words used in the poem are mainly nouns. There are no pronouns or connective words or adjectives or adverbs. The poem is direct and to the point. The words create the images of the place it is creating. It is a snapshot, a vision, kind of like describing the parts of a painting.
When one reads the poem out loud, it is soon realised that there is a rhythm. The poem sounds kind of staccato in pace or like a syncopated rhythm. It is very different than when one reads the poem silently, or, mentally. When one does read the poem mentally, the reader would visualise the words and what they mean. Compared to when the reader reads the poem out loud, they would get the musical rhythm. It is therefore, and active poem and hence not so silent poem.
There were four of them. They were chasing after me, laughing, teasing. All boys. Their taunts never ending. I kept screaming for help but no one did. I kept going past each house knocking on the door but no one answered. I felt so alone.
But then I saw one house, a big white one, but the windows had no curtains. I ran up the drive and banged on the door. It opened. I ran inside panting heavily. The boys stopped at the gate. I could see them through the window, laughing, pointing at me. There was a man dressed in white. I screamed to him that I needed his help. I shouted to him, pointing out the window that those boys were chasing after me, they were being bullies. “They kept teasing me and throwing stuff at me” I panted. I told the man to do something and get those boys, but he didn’t look. He just smiled at me and said that I would be safe here. I looked out the window again and the boys were gone. Then the man looked out the window. I told him that the boys are gone. I went to open the door but it wouldn’t open. The man calmly said that I needed to be here. I panicked. I said, “I want to leave”. The man laughed. I was trying to escape from bullies, now I want to escape from a psychiatric house where I’m being bullied subtly.
The room went silent. I was staring at Gabriel, who was rearranging the flowers then the gaze of the multitudes at the party focussed on the door and I saw he was there. He returned! Back from the dead. He said he was on safari in Africa when we heard about the riot by the natives. That was two months ago and we hadn’t heard from him since that fateful day. The fire! But he was back, dishevelled in appearance. The poor man hadn’t bothered to spruce himself up, but he had his trusty leather satchel by this side.
By gosh he had that satchel for years. Always took it with him on his ‘adventures’ he would call them. Mad Safaris I’d say. You’d just never know what those natives will get up to. I’m amazed they haven’t scavenged that satchel away from him. Well lucky for him, this time round. By gosh I hope this will be his last safari, especially by the look of him. I hope to get a word with him. This will be an opportune interview I must get for the paper. By gosh the photographs! Already some society photographer here and took the photo of him. I must hurry and tell the paper the news.
“Look it happened so long ago but I can still remember vividly.” Red told the interviewer. “I was a pretty little girl, but I wasn’t spoilt! But I did get into all sorts or mischievous activities. I wanted to visit nanna because there’s this cute guy in the woods but I never told anyone and I just wanted to look you see. So I use the excuse to visit nanna. Besides she gives me like five dollars every time I see her. It’s not much money but my clothes don’t just buy themselves.
“So mother made some cake for me to give to nanna, but I’m like, nanna can bake cakes too so what gives? But I didn’t question mother and I didn’t want to arouse suspicion so I took the cake. However, mother said that nanna was sick, so I thought that I didn’t want to catch what she got but I so wanted to check out if the guy in the woods was there.
“So I make my way through the woods and this old hairy wolf comes up to me. He’s like trying to be friendly and hip with me, but I can see his game the little old pervert. I think I said I was going to visit my nanna and to shove him off, because I thought he was a beggar, I offered him my mother’s cake. He said no and ‘was looking for something more delicious’, the little old pervert. I had my hand in my pocket ready for my mace spray but he took off.
“Funny enough, I saw the guy in the woods. He was so hot. I always just be casual when I see him. I say ‘hi’ to him and tell him on one my way to nanna’s. But then I told him about the dirty old wolf and said he was giving me the creeps and he said ‘I’ll look into it’ I thought ‘cool’.
“So I get to my nanna’s house but before I got there I saw from behind the tree, the pervert wolf was nearby. I had my hand on the mace spray ready. He didn’t see me but he was walking to the door of nanna’s house so I snuck up behind him, tapped him on the shoulder and he turned around and I sprayed him with my mace spray. I yelled out ‘fire! fire!’ because no one comes out to help you when you cry rape. I just kept spraying my mace on the little pervert and the cute woods guy come out. I just yelled at him that the wolf tried to rape me and the cute guy lops him on the head with the axe. The guy asked me what happened. I told the guy that the wolf was just following me and he grabbed me from behind and said to me ‘oh I want you’ but I pulled out my mace spray from my pocket and just sprayed him.
“The cute woods guy said he’d take care of the wolf and not to tell anyone. I said to him that it’s our little secret. I just smiled at him and gave him a hug because I always wanted an excuse to hug him, but I took an even bigger opportunity and kissed him on the check. I didn’t want to seem too forward. I then said to him ‘thank you’ and that I better check on nanna. He just picked up the wolf and went back into the woods.
“You know what, since that day, I never saw the cute woods guy again! I was so disappointed. But nanna still gave me five dollars”
STATEMENT OF STRATEGY
I went for the style of the viewpoint of Little Red Riding Hood telling the story of that fateful day to an interviewer, but many years later as she was an adult. She’s older but none the wiser. It took a while to get the story across, longer than 200 words but I felt that at least writing this much would give it’s impact.
Aristotle’s ‘Rhetorical Triangle’ allows the reader to analyse different texts on its arguments and see if they are persuasive (Wright 2010; Lutzke & Henggeler 2009). The Rhetorical Triangle bases its persuasive arguments on three areas: Logos, Ethos and Pathos.
An excerpt of Pretor-Pinney’s The Cloud-Spotter’s Guide was examined to discuss its use of rhetoric. It is believed that the excerpt used all three aspects of rhetoric, however it is believed that the areas of ethos and pathos predominate the text.
Pathos can be seen when Pretor-Pinney describes his childhood feelings of the clouds. The author describes that the clouds were like “cotton wool” and described his childhood feelings that clouds could be harvested for such items. Also described was that the clouds were “soft”.
The author uses logos to define the Cumulus cloud and the descriptions of the different types of clouds or ‘species’ as he defined them, but it is ethos and pathos statements which appear to be dominant in the text.
The author uses quite a few adjectives when describing the Cumulus clouds and this reflects the use of pathos in his statements. These include: “brilliant white cauliflower mounds” (p.20), “puffy” (p. 21) and “drifting candyfloss curls” (p. 23) to name a few.
To conclude, although Pretor-Pinney’s book has Logos, or factual, aspects, it is written so that is appeals to the reader and hence covers the Ethos and Pathos aspects of the Rhetorical Triangle.
References:
Lutzke, J & Henggeler, MF 2009 The Rhetorical Triangle: Understanding and Using Logos, Ethos and Pathos. University writing centre, Indiana University, viewed 16 April 2013, <http://www.iupui.edu/~uwc/pdf/Rhetorical%20Triangle.pdf>
Pretor-Pinney, G 2006 The Cloud-Spotter’s Guide, Sceptre, London (pp, 21-23)
Wright, D 2010 The Rhetorical Triangle and Three Rhetorical Appeals, Furman University English Department, viewed 16 April 2013, <http://writing2.richmond.edu/writing/wweb/Rhet_Triangleprint.html>
“Oh what woe has befallen me
Oh what wretchedness
Oh Seasonal Climate Outlook what hath doth done?
To present such increase in temperature upon thine land
From August to October to invoke such high heat
More than the norm of thine land
My land of South eastern Australia has befallen
To the curse of the unusual anomaly
What foul scented odour
Under old grey skies we do not fair
But cloudless sunlit days of sun’s rage
So sleep shall not before me then
This most unusual seasonal temperature
This heat which has struck me down
Caused by none other than that Indian Ocean
From thou land of Western Australia
Come wond’ring from afar to thine land
Battling with the warming trend
Hailed from the equatorial pacific
These two doth meet in thine land
Creating a presence which is most unpleasant
This is the mark ‘tween August to October
The precedent set for more of the Satan’s heat
Perchance set ‘tween 60 and 75 per cent
For thine land to be tainted with higher than norm heat
And yet in the land of northern NSW
Betwixt with the menace of the pit of hell
Tainted with heat over 80 per cent
Is this the indictment of global warming?
Bad is the world falling for the devil’s rage
That such ill has befallen thine land
That six to eight out of every ten
Times of August to October have met
With the force of the Devil’s heat
How can it be so bold to set such dealings?
But two to four out of ten periods
Be blessed with the cool winds
Such cool temperature to befall here
Then those times be of peace
As such then I may rest
A most pleasant temperature to sleep
And be free from the Devil’s heat.
How can you manipulate me like that
You and your fascist ways
Together with your friend you say
That this is just the way
Why can’t it be different
Why can’t you see it another way
Why does it have to be you
You think what you say is true
There are other ways you know
If you look on the other side
But you think you view is just
Even if you turned to rust
But you can’t see the other side
Though I wish you could go for a ride
To see a different point of view
To have your mind be made new.
josephinegambaro 