Proxy I went looking for your poem.

First searches on "thick with notes of liquid throats" turned up a lot on nasal drip.

Rosy flakes etc didn't fair much better.

Eventually found an obscure blog reference to upright plumes.

http://adraughtofvintage.blogspot.com/2008/12/i-am-tennessee-pusher.html

... 'sky's abyss' eventually located a full reference:

It seems the poet is C.S. Lewis:
THE BIRTH OF LANGUAGE

http://blog.lib.umn.edu/wagne342/sq/2009/04/mercuriality_1.php

Correction:

Rosy flakes etc didn't fair much better.

should have been

Rosy flakes etc didn't fare much better.

This is my fishing poem, it's about how the misses gets snaky before I go on my annual fishing trip with the boys.

Well it's that time at last, the time we love most
But we dare not get excited as we'll only cop a roast

Our rods are all packed and not a thing missed
Then out comes the misses with this * great list

Well it's ok for you to go off and have fun
But what about the jobs that you haven’t yet done

And what about the kids with their schooling and sports
O-r tell me you're not wearing those crappy old shorts

And what about from your last trip where you left all your mess
And meanwhile I am still dodging this fishermen's nest


Now as we get nearer and the ‘s’ list gets bigger
At least we get closer to pulling that trigger

Now this trigger ain’t a gun we hold at our leisure
It's simply our switch between business and pleasure

So although we cop 's’ leading up to the dates
At least we can look forward to some fun with our mates

Now although Weipa's been great and tilly may too
I'm looking forward to our Hinchinbrook ronde view

Now although the fishing is great in Weipa and Prossie to name just a few
The trip would be nothing without such a crew

I found a treasure.
The combined works of Banjo Paterson.
I love bush poetry.
It stands unread on the shelf.
O I will treasure it when the time comes to read every word.
But other things come first.
I often ask did we really have more time to do such things once.
Or will I ever have the time to just sit and enjoy that book.

Pynchme,
Well spotted.

Foxy

A much needed respite from antagonism into the sublime.

I enjoy Haiku. For their restful immediacy, such as a prelude to and on meditation. Also for the stirring images either visual or philosophical.

The following are two examples from the work of Basho, translated by Peter Beilenson.

The first is based on nature, which is the foundation of Haiku:

<< Spring morning marvel
lovely nameless little hill
on a sea of mist >>

The following is more philosophical:

<< In my dark winter
lying ill, at last I ask
how fares my neighbour >>