Author Archives: Paul Jacko

About Paul Jacko

Jacko was born in Czechoslovakia not long before the communist putsch in February 1948. He studied industrial chemistry there and left in 1969 for Australia, where he became a lawyer and established his own practice. He has now retired and beside hunting, fishing, camping, prospecting and playing golf he amuses himself by writing.

“I Was Born In the Right Time…”

…from the quills of the dead white poets Anna Akhmatova (1889 – 1966) 1913 I was born in the right time, in whole, Only this time is one that is blessed, But great God did not let my poor soul … Continue reading

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Winter

…from the quills of the dead white poets William Shakespeare (1564 – 1616)   When icicles hang by the wall, And Dick the shepherd blows his nail, And Tom bears logs into the hall, And milk comes frozen home in … Continue reading

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“Bring Me an Axe and Spade…”

…from the quills of the dead white poets William Blake (1757 – 1827)   Bring me an axe and spade, Bring me a winding sheet; When I my grave have made, Let winds and tempests beat: Then down I lie, … Continue reading

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The Bacchic Song

…from the quills of the dead white poets Aleksandr Pushkin (1799 – 1837) Why hushed you, O, gaiety’s voice? Resound, the hymns of the Bacchus! Long live they, who ever had loved us – The beautiful women and sweet, gentle … Continue reading

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Autumn

…from the quills of the dead white poets Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807 – 1882) With what a glory comes and goes the year! The buds of spring, those beautiful harbingers Of sunny skies and cloudless times, enjoy Life’s newness, and … Continue reading

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Píseň zhýralého jinocha

…from the quills of the dead white poets František Gellner (1881 -1914) Nezemru já od práce, nezahynu bídou, nezalknu se v oprátce, skončím syfilidou. Nezemru já u holky ani na silnici. Zemru volky nevolky klidně v nemocnici. Nezískal jsem za … Continue reading

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“When Priests Are More in World…”

…from the quills of the dead white poets William Shakespeare (1564 – 1616)   When priests are more in world than matter; When brewers mar their malt with water; When nobles are their tailors’ tutors; Nor heretics burn’d, but wenches’ … Continue reading

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The Man Who Knew

…from the quills of the dead white poets Robert William Service (1874 – 1958) The Dreamer visioned Life as it might be, And from his dream forthright a picture grew, A painting all the people thronged to see, And joyed … Continue reading

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Earth’s Answer

…from the quills of the dead white poets William Blake (1757 – 1827)   Earth raised up her head From the darkness dread and drear, Her light fled, Stony, dread, And her locks covered with grey despair. ‘Prisoned on watery … Continue reading

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Eldorado

…from the quills of the dead white poets Edgar Allan Poe (1809 – 1849) Gaily bedight, A gallant knight, In sunshine and in shadow, Had journeyed long, Singing a song, In search of Eldorado. But he grew old- This knight … Continue reading

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Theodore Roosevelt :- It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out where the strongman stumbles, or where the doer of good deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man in the arena, … Continue reading

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Vlastní podobizna

…from the quills of the dead white poets   Karel Toman (1877 – 1946) Daleko v hlubokém lese vyvěrá zpěvavý pramen. Z tmy k světlu se rodí a třese podsvětní píseň. Život mě křtil vodou živou, chuť hlubin a temnot … Continue reading

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Love And Death

…from the quills of dead white poets Lord Byron (1788 – 1824) I watched thee when the foe was at our side, Ready to strike at him – or thee and me Were safety hopeless – rather than divide Aught … Continue reading

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O heavens, heavens,

…from the quills of the dead white poets Osip Mandelshtam 1891 -1938 O heavens, heavens, see you in my dreams! It is impossible — you had become so blind, And day was burned as if a page — to rims: … Continue reading

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“By the Hoof of the Wild Goat”

…from the quills of the dead white poets Rudyard Kipling (1865 – 1936) By the Hoof of the Wild Goat uptossed From the cliff where she lay in the Sun Fell the Stone To the Tarn where the daylight is … Continue reading

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Poverty

…from the quills of the dead white poets Samuel Johnson (1709 – 1784) Has heaven reserv’d, in pity to the poor, No pathless waste, or undiscover’d shore? No secret island in the boundless main? No peaceful desert yet unclaim’d by … Continue reading

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The Dalliance of the Eagles

…from the quills of the dead white poets Walt Whitman (1819 – 1892) Skirting the river road, (my forenoon walk, my rest,) Skyward in air a sudden muffled sound, the dalliance of the eagles, The rushing amorous contact high in … Continue reading

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Hlas noci

…from the quills of the dead white poets Karel Toman (1877 – 1946) Město tě volá, odbojného syna, ó slyš. Ať kladivo jsi, nebo kovadlina, ty zníš. Odvěká píseň, boj a věčné drama hrá v tmách, a tvoje duše žíti … Continue reading

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I Am He that Aches with Love

…from the quills of the dead white poets Walt Whitman (1819 – 1892)   I am he that aches with amorous love; Does the earth gravitate? Does not all matter, aching, attract all matter? So the body of me to … Continue reading

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Beast and Man in India

…from the quills of the dead white poets Rudyard Kipling (1865 – 1936) They killed a Child to please the Gods In Earth’s young penitence, And I have bled in that Babe’s stead Because of innocence. I bear the sins … Continue reading

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