So, you think it’s pretty funny when I ask you very nicely
Would you kindly hang the washing just a little more precisely?
I can tell by how you wrote it, just was jobs you do at home
and by seeing how you spoke it, that sarcastic little poem.

Two Spits

Eddie Budgen

For the 548/549 squadron reunion and memorial service held at Petrie in April 1998

There’s a hole in the ground.You can see it still there.
the ghost of a pilot, my soul it can feel.

As a kid I remember and still see the time
My heroes on high,

The Spirit of Australia – Duramboi

Eddie Budgen

James Davis of Scotland was transported to Sydney in 1824 aged 12 years to serve seven years, convicted for stealing half a crown from a church collection.

He escaped into Bush north of Brisbane and for the next 14 years lived with the natives and was known by his native name as Duramboi.Returning to Brisbane iheopened a blacksmith shop.

The Low long Hills of Brisbane

Anita Reed

The green, treed hills doze in the sun
Dreaming of time since their birth.
When lines of black people through valleys would tread
In softness of leaves on the earth.

The green, green hills half awake in the day
Watching the scurrying ants.
The people who whiz around in their cars
Till the hills return to their trance.

The Curse of the Guinness

Paddy O’Brien

Saint Patrick visited mein a dream one night
he warned me,“Give up the Guinness Paddy!”
Well I woke with a terrible fright

I’ve got such a scare and when I did awake
I ran as fast as I could down past Donegal Lake
Now I travelled for weeks and dodged every bar
then I met with this bloke call Michael O’Mara.

Just Call Me Mate

Manfred Vijars

Here in this country a bloke is a bloke
and a girl is a Sheila fair dinkum no joke
and here is one more thing I’m telling you straight
I’m an Australian so just call me “Mate.”

Overseas you may be an ‘amigo’ senor,

Inside

Zoe Younger

What do you see when you sit down beside the woman who’s there next to you?
Do you see the clothing that’s tired and old, the hair that is grey white or blue?
Look deeper look down to the inside, past the layers she puts on each day.

Illegal Immigrant

Manfred Vijars

I’m writing in sheer desperation
dear Fluffy is missing you see.
I’ve searched high and low and can’t find her
I’m sure she is no escapee.

The kids sit distraught and are crying
they consider her much more like kin.
She’s quiet and shy and so cuddly
now missing much to our chagrin.

Hats

Glori O’Brien

If perhaps I had 1000 hats, which one would I wear?
if every hat that I chose was a hat without a care?
A hat to stay a little longer, to take my time to see.
In every life, is their sorrow?A lonely life too free?

Or perhaps a hat or two to answer all my prayers
To take the time to drop a line.To tender other’s cares.

Faces

Harold Meston

I leaned against the railing of the liner at the pier
and waved with gay abandon to the people standing near –
I searched the seaof faces on the dockside far below,
to see if I would recognise a face that I might know.

I scanned the many faces as I stood there at the rail
and hoped that I would see one face who’d come to see me sail;

Cricket

Brian Perren

©Brian Perren 1998

I stepped out to drive, but the ball wasn’t there;
The umpire said,“Out, Sir,” now that wasn’t fair.
Anyone could see that the ball took the pad,
but the captain said,“See the score before my lad:.
The scorebook read,“out caught behind,” if you please,
But I didn’t touch it.My anger didn’t ease
When my mate suggested the scorebook should read,

A Dreamtime Tale

Brian Perren

Maroochy sat quietly and gazed at her man
As he speared a large fish as only he can,
And softly and sweetly she sang of her love
the best of his catch he laid at her feet
She’d cook them for Coolum and give him a treat
and softly and gently she spoke of her love.

The Poet’s Gift

When poets write they draw upon events they’ve seen or heard
and couch these life experiences in rhythmic, rhyming word.
They may depict some country dance or leafy swimming pool
some blacksmith or some drover or perhaps an outback school.
And while the poet’s details seems unique to them in time
the detail for their readers may recall a paradigm
of similar experiences their readers wouldn’t find
unless the poet’s catalyst recalled them to the mind.

Billy of Cedar Glen

Events that happen in our younger days can sometimes stay with us throughout our lives.This poem also shows the effects of the Vietnam War and our attitude towards teenage pregnancy in the 60s.The poem begins in a cemetery in Sydney.

A socialite’s funeral up in the big smoke
didn’t seem like a place for this old country bloke.

Thoughts of a Baby Boomer

An ageing population is what we are told we are.People born after the war from 1946 to 1965 are classed as baby boomers.Being one myself these are my thoughts.

You could say I went to the old school.
Yeah, I grew up just after the war.

Paranga Pub

“Hello old gate,” I whispered
as I fumbled for the catch.
It creaked a rusty welcome
as I lifted up the latch.

I felt this eerie feeling
as I stood there in that place.
The pub had burnt down years before.
Only memories filled that space.

The Camel Curse

(This is my well proven substitute for road rage.So, the next time you cut me off in traffic or steal my parking spot, read my lips for this and more!!!!)

When I feel my anger rising, then I use this trick I’ve found.
I wish for you to take a hike;

Realistic Appraisal

I’m just propping up the winners so you may not know my name.
for without the Bloody losers there’s no winners in the game.
Yes, I’m starting at the bottom, that’s where most performers start.
Can’t you see my knees are shaking?Oh, but you should feel my heart!

12 3…5 Next

Virtual Bush Poetry Comp - Ends 30th September

North Pine Bush Poets

Poems