Coot-tha from the Green Bridge

Coot-tha’s sensual curves,
Are bathed in the golden evening glow, 
While the shadows of the riverbanks trees, 
 Dance on the silent, sluggish river.

Discussing the day in the Eucalypts,
The lorikeets spoil the peace.

Not solely a physical bridge, this,

Connecting a city, 
But a metaphorical bridge rather,

showing the way.

Coot-tha’s sensual curves suffused in the last of the days light,
While hundreds of stars glow in the inky night.

A strange sliver of a moon peeks under an eclipse,
While lights dance on the river in nightly bliss.

The lights of the bridge lead not only the way,
But are also examples of a bright and better day.

I wrote this poem in 2010 one night after crossing the Greenbridge in Brisbane, Australia, from my university to the residential area on the other side.

Nearby Mt Coot-tha (pronounced Coo-tha) was lit up be the setting sun and looking magical.

What makes the bridge special is that all its lights and features are powered by solar panels on the footpath roof, and it is a bus and bike only bridge; hence the name.

What do you think, and which do you prefer? How could I tighten the poem?

I've been a rock climber for many a year

The words of the poem are read/sung to the tune of the song above,
'The Wild Rover' played by The Dubliners:

I've been a rock climber for many a year
I've been a rock climber for many a year,

And spent all me money on rock climbing gear,

Now I've no money and me fingers are sore,

And I swear that I'll be a rock climber no more.

And it's no, nay, never, (Jangle yah nuts!)

No, nay, never, no more,

(I swear that) I'll be a rock climber no more,

No never, no more!

I went to the crag I used to frequent,

And told my belayer my fingers were spent,

I said to her 'climb on', she answered me nay!

You're the rock climber I only belay.

And it's no, nay, never, (handle the jugs)

No, nay, never, no more,

(I swear that) I'll be a rock climber no more,

No never, no more! 

Half way up a cliff and spread 'em  I did,

Into the crack, the sweet crack I slid,

She called from the bottom now don't go too deep,

If your long fingers you'll be wanting to keep!

And it's no, nay, never, (finger the crack)
No, nay, never, no more,

(I swear that) I'll be a rock climber no more,

No never, no more! 

The poem in this case is an Irish rock climbing ballad, which as far as I was told comes from the University of Dublin Rock Climbing Club. I'm a keen climber and love Irish poetry and writing so I enjoy it. I played around with the choruses and third verse.

What do you think? Any changes or ideas for a fourth verse?

The two climbing photos are of myself and my beautiful girlfriend climbing in the Peak District in England and on stunning Mt Maunganui in New Zealand.

Micropoetry:

I climb the crack upon the cliff/ that claimed all of my courage//

Without my courage no crack I climb/for only cliffs I care to see//