Tag Archives: Rising Tide

November verse 12, 2024

Posted on 26 Nov 2024 | 6 comments

As I mentioned in my previous post, I spent the weekend at the Rising Tide People’s Blockade of the Newcastle coal port.

Then, I ducked the daunting task of writing a stanza beginning with ‘Water lapping on their doorsteps’, a line taken from Senator Mehreen Faruqi’s description of the drastic situation of Pacific Island nations. But the challenge refused to lie down and die, so here goes. It might be worth reminding you that Imhotep was a kind of deity of ancient Egypt who may have been believed to help control the flooding of the Nile; and that the Golden Soul is a ship that left Newcastle on the weekend bound for Japan with a load of coal. You probably don’t know that Mary McKillop, now a canonised saint, once placed a statue of Saint Joseph on the doorstep of her nuns’ residence, and floodwaters stopped just short of the statue. 

Verse 12: Water lapping on their doorsteps

Water lapping on their doorsteps,
not a miracle in sight.
No hope will come from Nile's Imhotep, 
none from praying day and night
to effigies of saints and fairies,
Hare Krishnas or Hail Marys,
even chanting 'No more coal'.
Great ships like the Golden Soul
still sail, indifferent as weather.
Science says we know what to do,
but who's in charge? Yes, you know who!
Still, let's paddle hell for leather,
do wise things and crazy stunts,   
everything, everywhere all at once.

With any luck I’ll be back to domesticity tomorrow. Maybe something about our new EV?

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November verse 11, 2024

Posted on 24 Nov 2024 | 13 comments

I spent the weekend at the Rising Tide People’s Blockade of the coal port at Newcastle.

There were more than 5000 registered participants at the ‘protestival’ on shore, a beautifully organised event with a brilliantly diverse population, many of them in tents. Hundreds of small craft, mostly kayaks, paddled out onto the water and in spite of an impressive police presence – water police from Sydney, and squads of riot police in black, many wearing masks – at least one coal ship was turned back. There were about 170 arrests on the water, of which I was number 64. (According to the police, they had to pull 34 people out of the water: I was one, and I was in the water because of police action. Police had to help ten people to shore who were unable to get there unaided: what police don’t mention is that they had confiscated those people’s paddles.)

I kept my ears peeled for an opening line for a November stanza – that is to say, an iambic tetrameter ending in an unaccented syllable. At first I thought I had to take Senator Mehreen Faruqi’s description of the drastic situation of Pacific Island nations: ‘Water lapping on their doorsteps.’ I was searching around for rhymes for doorstep, and was thinking ‘Imhotep’ had possibilities, when I was returning from my post-arrest processing and a possibly drunk man in a bus stop muttered at me, ‘I hope you drown if you’re protesting.’ Delighted by this gift of a line I thanked him, completely without irony. The poem got completely out of hand right from the start.

Verse 11: I hope you drown if you're protesting

I hope you drown if you're protesting,
hope your voice dies in your throat,
I hope and pray that the arresting
coppers drop you off the boat.
May your chant of people power
getting stronger by the hour
echo down the halls of shame.
It's not your skin that's in the game.
Some of us have made a living
digging, carting, shipping coal.
A living? More! It shaped our souls.
Thatcher gave what you'd be giving. 
You say you won't let ships pass. 
I say shove that up your arse.

I do feel obliged to mention that everywhere in the Climate movement, people talk about the importance of a just transition to renewables. There’s a lot of disinformation around, but this man’s quiet bitterness was clearly heartfelt, came from a real place

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