Beautiful Megsy, took me right to the creek.
Mackka
erfect:
Mackka
erfect:
The Poetry Section
- Thread starter johnb
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The King of the Sky
I am entranced by his stance,
head held high in defiance.
No other can challenge his ability in flight,
nor can they match his eyesight.
The thermals his playground,
as he circles round and round.
He can be found far and wide,
in deserts and mountains countrywide.
Coloured rufous and black,
broad shouldered and tapered back.
Feathered legs, diamond tail, taloned claw,
strong beak and a wingspan of two metres and more.
I am in awe of this bird so regal,
the species they call the Wedge Tail Eagle.
G.Potter
21/9/18
I am entranced by his stance,
head held high in defiance.
No other can challenge his ability in flight,
nor can they match his eyesight.
The thermals his playground,
as he circles round and round.
He can be found far and wide,
in deserts and mountains countrywide.
Coloured rufous and black,
broad shouldered and tapered back.
Feathered legs, diamond tail, taloned claw,
strong beak and a wingspan of two metres and more.
I am in awe of this bird so regal,
the species they call the Wedge Tail Eagle.
G.Potter
21/9/18
Tassie
My love for her could not be denied,
she simply just caught my eye.
So timid and shy,
I just had to become her guy.
She cost me a single twenty,
in return she gave me plenty.
My constant companion she became,
we hadn't even settled on a name.
This little devil in Black and Tan,
could just about fill a grown mans hand.
She became know as Tassie,
this wee Staffordshire cross Bully lassie.
My second shadow wherever I went,
boundless energy, she was never spent.
She'd sit with us at the table,
and enjoy the scraps when available.
A more placid dog you would not meet,
always contented just sitting at your feet.
Age did weary her, her eyes and ears,
they failed her in her older years.
Her time it came at seventeen, six years ago,
I still remember that day and it's savage blow.
RIP my constant shadow.
Glenn 21/9/18
My love for her could not be denied,
she simply just caught my eye.
So timid and shy,
I just had to become her guy.
She cost me a single twenty,
in return she gave me plenty.
My constant companion she became,
we hadn't even settled on a name.
This little devil in Black and Tan,
could just about fill a grown mans hand.
She became know as Tassie,
this wee Staffordshire cross Bully lassie.
My second shadow wherever I went,
boundless energy, she was never spent.
She'd sit with us at the table,
and enjoy the scraps when available.
A more placid dog you would not meet,
always contented just sitting at your feet.
Age did weary her, her eyes and ears,
they failed her in her older years.
Her time it came at seventeen, six years ago,
I still remember that day and it's savage blow.
RIP my constant shadow.
Glenn 21/9/18
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My Heaven
At ten years old, dad gave to me, the place that I love best.
A spot I know thats aptly named they call it Troubles Rest.
You find it by a disk nailed high, upon a redgum tree.
It cost you zip to pitch your tent, cause camping there is free.
Where to start, the times I love, its hard to pick the best.
Waking up to gumleaf scent, that makes the air so fresh.
Light the fire to billy boil, that first cup of the day.
Stick your latte, give me flat, and dont knock Nescafe!
Take it to the big felled tree, that sits above the river.
Walk along the length of it, and feel a little shiver.
Sit and wait, the silence great, the suns not risen yet.
You sip and wait to greet the day, god, how good can it get?!
Sun rays beam out through the trees, a golden day begins.
A mob of cockys shatter peace, they make a mighty din.
The bush alarm clock rise and shine - you just gotta love this!
Unless you have a hangover and then you want to shoot it!
The sun is now above the trees, the chill has left the air.
You lift your face up to the warmth, and surely have no cares.
Troubles Rest has weaved its magic, your soul is now at peace.
You smile to know this feeling, will be with you for the week.
Friends wake up and stagger from their tents with heavy heads.
Looking for some coffee, or some water, thirsts to quench.
Morning all, I say so bright, with a smile of most content.
They eye me through bloodshot eyes with thumping nasty heads.
Leave them to their pain and drinks, to set up my sunlounge.
Then get the latest novel, from a great author I found.
Sunnies on, shorts and tank, esky nice and handy.
Full sun there to settle in, that suits me fine and dandy!
Friends will say to wear sunscreen, who get the squinty eye.
Never used that death in a tube, I say, in all my life!
The only way to beat the heat, is head down to the river.
Dive on in to cool right down, the sun will end the shivers.
Repeat, repeat, down some drinks, have a little lunch.
Share some laughs with the gang, a really happy bunch!
Chisel blaring from the ute, ski boat motors revving.
God, I think, this place I love, is my idea of heaven!
The sun sinks down below the trees, time to put warm clothes on.
Hammock time for a laze, before the dinner call comes.
Swinging slow, cicadas sing, sugar gliders gliding.
Life is great, right here and now, my spirit sure is flying.
The search starts up to gather wood, before the darkness looms.
Spark up the fire see it burn time for lots more tunes.
Solar lights around the camp, all light up one by one.
A carnival of colour shows, by time thats all been done.
Bush tucker chefs show their skill, on campfires there at night.
Camp oven stews and roasts they make, are such a fine delight!
Dishes done and put away, before the ants come marching.
Bug Off sprayed all around - the mozzies will be biting!
Music, drinks, stories and laughs, dancing by the fire.
One more log, its burning down, yeah right, it cant get higher!
Fire bugs, true, one and all, they watch it snap and hiss.
Music quiets, thoughts turn deep, a campfire will inspire this.
Moon so bright, stars alight, night sky it is a wonder.
Whys it not just like this, in cities, I do ponder.
Shooting star across the sky, make a wish, they say.
What more could I want, spending time here on this day?
Friends head off, one by one, to bed in their own tents.
Another day is done and dusted, and the night so too it ends.
I sit alone and stare at fires embers burning down,
and wonder why in gods name, do I live in a big town?
So what, you wonder now, is the part that I love best,
of this little magic spot, they named Troubles Rest?
There is no bad, no so-so ground, no average or fair.
Theres only great and wonderful, and not a single care.
Meg Bond
23/09/2018
At ten years old, dad gave to me, the place that I love best.
A spot I know thats aptly named they call it Troubles Rest.
You find it by a disk nailed high, upon a redgum tree.
It cost you zip to pitch your tent, cause camping there is free.
Where to start, the times I love, its hard to pick the best.
Waking up to gumleaf scent, that makes the air so fresh.
Light the fire to billy boil, that first cup of the day.
Stick your latte, give me flat, and dont knock Nescafe!
Take it to the big felled tree, that sits above the river.
Walk along the length of it, and feel a little shiver.
Sit and wait, the silence great, the suns not risen yet.
You sip and wait to greet the day, god, how good can it get?!
Sun rays beam out through the trees, a golden day begins.
A mob of cockys shatter peace, they make a mighty din.
The bush alarm clock rise and shine - you just gotta love this!
Unless you have a hangover and then you want to shoot it!
The sun is now above the trees, the chill has left the air.
You lift your face up to the warmth, and surely have no cares.
Troubles Rest has weaved its magic, your soul is now at peace.
You smile to know this feeling, will be with you for the week.
Friends wake up and stagger from their tents with heavy heads.
Looking for some coffee, or some water, thirsts to quench.
Morning all, I say so bright, with a smile of most content.
They eye me through bloodshot eyes with thumping nasty heads.
Leave them to their pain and drinks, to set up my sunlounge.
Then get the latest novel, from a great author I found.
Sunnies on, shorts and tank, esky nice and handy.
Full sun there to settle in, that suits me fine and dandy!
Friends will say to wear sunscreen, who get the squinty eye.
Never used that death in a tube, I say, in all my life!
The only way to beat the heat, is head down to the river.
Dive on in to cool right down, the sun will end the shivers.
Repeat, repeat, down some drinks, have a little lunch.
Share some laughs with the gang, a really happy bunch!
Chisel blaring from the ute, ski boat motors revving.
God, I think, this place I love, is my idea of heaven!
The sun sinks down below the trees, time to put warm clothes on.
Hammock time for a laze, before the dinner call comes.
Swinging slow, cicadas sing, sugar gliders gliding.
Life is great, right here and now, my spirit sure is flying.
The search starts up to gather wood, before the darkness looms.
Spark up the fire see it burn time for lots more tunes.
Solar lights around the camp, all light up one by one.
A carnival of colour shows, by time thats all been done.
Bush tucker chefs show their skill, on campfires there at night.
Camp oven stews and roasts they make, are such a fine delight!
Dishes done and put away, before the ants come marching.
Bug Off sprayed all around - the mozzies will be biting!
Music, drinks, stories and laughs, dancing by the fire.
One more log, its burning down, yeah right, it cant get higher!
Fire bugs, true, one and all, they watch it snap and hiss.
Music quiets, thoughts turn deep, a campfire will inspire this.
Moon so bright, stars alight, night sky it is a wonder.
Whys it not just like this, in cities, I do ponder.
Shooting star across the sky, make a wish, they say.
What more could I want, spending time here on this day?
Friends head off, one by one, to bed in their own tents.
Another day is done and dusted, and the night so too it ends.
I sit alone and stare at fires embers burning down,
and wonder why in gods name, do I live in a big town?
So what, you wonder now, is the part that I love best,
of this little magic spot, they named Troubles Rest?
There is no bad, no so-so ground, no average or fair.
Theres only great and wonderful, and not a single care.
Meg Bond
23/09/2018
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- Sep 10, 2018
- Messages
- 1,779
- Reaction score
- 3,941
Did you know?
Looking up on Google, one fine day, just this past week,
I searched to find the name, of a group of birds that shriek.
We all know these white terrors, here in Oz, very well,
with their yellow crest, and tough beaks that cause some hell.
Yes cockatoos, my friends - the farmers hated blight.
The beasts can fell a field of wheat, before your very sight!
When stopping for a rest, upon a tree on which theyve landed,
Theyll strip it right down to the trunk, and just a few branches!
Big white birds, pretty too, but god, the noise they peel!
Shrieking past, in a group of hundreds, its just unreal!
Some they talk, when kept as pets, and can be funny then,
when words they say are not PG, and mums will scowl at em!
Shut up, you noisy buggers! a lament thats often shouted,
as they fly overhead, their presence never doubted!
Why they bother, Ill never know, this shout it isnt needed.
The cockys shriek is heard for miles, and surely wont be heeded!
I always thought a group of them was called a cocky mob,
but seems that I was wrong, when I searched and found its not.
Frowning, I said, Really? Thats what their group is named?
Not a mob of cockys, as Id always thought them famed
No my friends, this isnt true a mob is quite mistaken.
As fifty years I thought twas so, and thats how long its taken.
When learning what to call a group of cockys, I did tackle.
Friends, did you know, that their group is called a crackle?!
Meg Bond
24/09/2018
Looking up on Google, one fine day, just this past week,
I searched to find the name, of a group of birds that shriek.
We all know these white terrors, here in Oz, very well,
with their yellow crest, and tough beaks that cause some hell.
Yes cockatoos, my friends - the farmers hated blight.
The beasts can fell a field of wheat, before your very sight!
When stopping for a rest, upon a tree on which theyve landed,
Theyll strip it right down to the trunk, and just a few branches!
Big white birds, pretty too, but god, the noise they peel!
Shrieking past, in a group of hundreds, its just unreal!
Some they talk, when kept as pets, and can be funny then,
when words they say are not PG, and mums will scowl at em!
Shut up, you noisy buggers! a lament thats often shouted,
as they fly overhead, their presence never doubted!
Why they bother, Ill never know, this shout it isnt needed.
The cockys shriek is heard for miles, and surely wont be heeded!
I always thought a group of them was called a cocky mob,
but seems that I was wrong, when I searched and found its not.
Frowning, I said, Really? Thats what their group is named?
Not a mob of cockys, as Id always thought them famed
No my friends, this isnt true a mob is quite mistaken.
As fifty years I thought twas so, and thats how long its taken.
When learning what to call a group of cockys, I did tackle.
Friends, did you know, that their group is called a crackle?!
Meg Bond
24/09/2018
This is NOT my writing, but it's pretty good
A POW wrote these lines
Duncan Butler
2/12th Field Ambulance.
Ive travelled down some lonely roads
Both crooked tracks and straight
An Ive learned lifes noblest creed
Summed up in one word Mate
Im thinking back across the years,
(A thing I do of late)
An this word sticks between my ears
Youve got to have a mate
Someone wholl take you as you are.
Regardless of your state
An stand as firm as Ayers Rock
Because e is your mate
Me mind goes back to 43,
To slavery an ate,
When mans one chance to stay alive
Depended on is mate.
With bamboo for a billie-can
An bamboo for a plate,
A bamboo paradise for bugs,
Was bed for me and me mate.
Youd slip and slither through the mud
An curse your rotten fate:
But then youd hear a quiet word:
Dont drop your bundle mate.
An though its all so long ago
This truth I ave to state:
A man dont know what lonely means,
Til e as lost is mate
If theres a life that follers this,
If theres a Golden Gate
The welcome that I want to hear
Is just: Good on y mate
An so to all who ask us why
We keep these special Dates
Like Anzac day, I answer: Why
Were thinking of our mates
An when Ive left the drivers seat
An handed in my plates,
Ill tell old Peter at the door:
Ive come to join me MATES
A POW wrote these lines
Duncan Butler
2/12th Field Ambulance.
Ive travelled down some lonely roads
Both crooked tracks and straight
An Ive learned lifes noblest creed
Summed up in one word Mate
Im thinking back across the years,
(A thing I do of late)
An this word sticks between my ears
Youve got to have a mate
Someone wholl take you as you are.
Regardless of your state
An stand as firm as Ayers Rock
Because e is your mate
Me mind goes back to 43,
To slavery an ate,
When mans one chance to stay alive
Depended on is mate.
With bamboo for a billie-can
An bamboo for a plate,
A bamboo paradise for bugs,
Was bed for me and me mate.
Youd slip and slither through the mud
An curse your rotten fate:
But then youd hear a quiet word:
Dont drop your bundle mate.
An though its all so long ago
This truth I ave to state:
A man dont know what lonely means,
Til e as lost is mate
If theres a life that follers this,
If theres a Golden Gate
The welcome that I want to hear
Is just: Good on y mate
An so to all who ask us why
We keep these special Dates
Like Anzac day, I answer: Why
Were thinking of our mates
An when Ive left the drivers seat
An handed in my plates,
Ill tell old Peter at the door:
Ive come to join me MATES
I'm Taking it Easy.
I've had my share of tempestuous youth
Had my nose bleeds and I've lost a tooth.
In dark lanes and alleys, I've fought with the best
Now I am old and I prefer to just rest
I'm over the hill, and I'm taking it easy.
I saw the last of the steam trains and stations
Where a beer could be bought and there were hundreds of patrons.
I saw the last of the horses and carts
For those of us there they were dear to our hearts
I'm over the hill, and I'm taking it easy.
I saw the longboards and I own one still
Hanging ten was just such a thrill.
I saw the first of the tv's then black and white
We'd sit up and watch those tv's all night
I'm over the hill, and I'm taking it easy.
And I was there to see the first Holden FJ
And watched as they buried my Mother one day.
I remember the war in Korea and Vietnam
There's so much more war now I just don't give a damn
I'm over the hill, and I'm taking it easy.
So many things in my life I have seen
It would take me to long to mention the places I've been.
But I gave life a shot and grabbed it with both hands
I've climbed up life's mountains and walked barefoot on its sands
I'm over the hill, and I'm taking it easy
Yes I'm over the hill, and I'm taking it easy...copyright.R.LANGLANDS.2018.
I've had my share of tempestuous youth
Had my nose bleeds and I've lost a tooth.
In dark lanes and alleys, I've fought with the best
Now I am old and I prefer to just rest
I'm over the hill, and I'm taking it easy.
I saw the last of the steam trains and stations
Where a beer could be bought and there were hundreds of patrons.
I saw the last of the horses and carts
For those of us there they were dear to our hearts
I'm over the hill, and I'm taking it easy.
I saw the longboards and I own one still
Hanging ten was just such a thrill.
I saw the first of the tv's then black and white
We'd sit up and watch those tv's all night
I'm over the hill, and I'm taking it easy.
And I was there to see the first Holden FJ
And watched as they buried my Mother one day.
I remember the war in Korea and Vietnam
There's so much more war now I just don't give a damn
I'm over the hill, and I'm taking it easy.
So many things in my life I have seen
It would take me to long to mention the places I've been.
But I gave life a shot and grabbed it with both hands
I've climbed up life's mountains and walked barefoot on its sands
I'm over the hill, and I'm taking it easy
Yes I'm over the hill, and I'm taking it easy...copyright.R.LANGLANDS.2018.
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This isn't poetry, as such, but to me it is a form of poetry,
to read such delightful writing in old proper English, such as
this article found in the Melbourne Argus Newspaper.
THE DRUNKARDS LIST. James Ross, Margaret Plummer,
John Bird, John McNuff, John Connor, Henry Brophy, and
Margaret Sullivan, were yesterday charged with being drunk,
and fined five shillings each. The last named delinquent,
on hearing the decision of the bench, drew from her bosom
a large bundle of notes, enclosing some silver, and having
selected a crown piece, threw the coin on the office table
and walked away with an air of offended majesty.
The Melbourne Argus Newspaper
3 September 1851
I wonder whatever happened to the majestic delinquent...
I reckon she'd have a lot of great stories to tell!
to read such delightful writing in old proper English, such as
this article found in the Melbourne Argus Newspaper.
THE DRUNKARDS LIST. James Ross, Margaret Plummer,
John Bird, John McNuff, John Connor, Henry Brophy, and
Margaret Sullivan, were yesterday charged with being drunk,
and fined five shillings each. The last named delinquent,
on hearing the decision of the bench, drew from her bosom
a large bundle of notes, enclosing some silver, and having
selected a crown piece, threw the coin on the office table
and walked away with an air of offended majesty.
The Melbourne Argus Newspaper
3 September 1851
I wonder whatever happened to the majestic delinquent...
I reckon she'd have a lot of great stories to tell!
silver
silver
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MYTERY'S DELIGHT
So seriously daylight came....
It dawned upon me then
I'd bought a pack of double A's
And stashed 'em for just such a day.
Birds were taunting "Treasure's there"
An I knew that too be true,
I'd smelt it just the other day
For t'was festering through my nose.
I reckon that's the very thing
That ensured just then I rose.
So risen up 'n dressed 'n fed
With nary a thought no more of bed
I sauntered off down yonder road
But.... No more that I could tell you now
Without divulging....just what I found.
Silver. 29-12-2018
So seriously daylight came....
It dawned upon me then
I'd bought a pack of double A's
And stashed 'em for just such a day.
Birds were taunting "Treasure's there"
An I knew that too be true,
I'd smelt it just the other day
For t'was festering through my nose.
I reckon that's the very thing
That ensured just then I rose.
So risen up 'n dressed 'n fed
With nary a thought no more of bed
I sauntered off down yonder road
But.... No more that I could tell you now
Without divulging....just what I found.
Silver. 29-12-2018
silver
silver
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- Dec 19, 2013
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- 25,833
Ohh yawn again...
I thurst for sleep
no seven hundred metre dash
to quietude or naptures brink
whilst tickity tock my fingers dink
a writing this poetic think
will bring me close to crossing veil
So deep within my soul
whence search for treasures doth begin
amidst the churning vision dance
till where new worlds have settled down
...that's where I wanna be... !
Ohh yawn again...
here hope lies yet
I close my eyes and see a set
of visions pass me by
Ohh yawn again...
persistent bright
to close my eyes to sweet twilight
but lines across my vision stare
as phones outline lays distant there
some pressure there I see a door
ease away see even more
no pressure on my eyes
dots of blue move off to right
a tube of white drifts off ahead
visions here inside my head
It's time to sleep now..... Yawn....
Silver
8-1-2019
I thurst for sleep
no seven hundred metre dash
to quietude or naptures brink
whilst tickity tock my fingers dink
a writing this poetic think
will bring me close to crossing veil
So deep within my soul
whence search for treasures doth begin
amidst the churning vision dance
till where new worlds have settled down
...that's where I wanna be... !
Ohh yawn again...
here hope lies yet
I close my eyes and see a set
of visions pass me by
Ohh yawn again...
persistent bright
to close my eyes to sweet twilight
but lines across my vision stare
as phones outline lays distant there
some pressure there I see a door
ease away see even more
no pressure on my eyes
dots of blue move off to right
a tube of white drifts off ahead
visions here inside my head
It's time to sleep now..... Yawn....
Silver
8-1-2019
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MegsyB007 said:
Being unendowed with a bosom I would have paid her majestys charge by pulling many a brown penny from my....
Robert Ross - Sullivan, wrote this piece back in 2005 when we tried to find Lasseter's Reef. Our search was ended by heavy rain, the most since 1923, years before Lasseter lost his life. http://www.lasseteria.com/LASSETERIA.htm
By Christopher lake and Circus Water
Detour to Lasseters Cave he aught to
To ponder Harrys ghostly lamentation
Of bolting camels and starvation
Then onwards east to Winters Glen
Where the prospecting legend met his end
Ever eastwards to the Olgas
Not like Terry bashing mulga
Nightjars road is now well traveled
With track-side flats he should not be troubled
Unless he turns north to Lake Amadeus
Then his disappearance will confound us
On to the Alice for a resupply
Then northwest to the Tanami
Where golds been found, more or less
Maybe a chance for a detector test
At Halls creek hell have better luck
Before he tackles the infamous Canning track
And all this on one slab of Emu Bitter
Never happen, maybe later
When hes back in the Golden West
Successfully reflecting on the severest test
Of man and wheels and detector too
But no doubt, his laptop maps have seen him through
Then onto keyboard with fingers pounding
Via this forum with tales astounding
Of his journey through cental Oz
Then well know where the Nightjar was
Sullivan
By Christopher lake and Circus Water
Detour to Lasseters Cave he aught to
To ponder Harrys ghostly lamentation
Of bolting camels and starvation
Then onwards east to Winters Glen
Where the prospecting legend met his end
Ever eastwards to the Olgas
Not like Terry bashing mulga
Nightjars road is now well traveled
With track-side flats he should not be troubled
Unless he turns north to Lake Amadeus
Then his disappearance will confound us
On to the Alice for a resupply
Then northwest to the Tanami
Where golds been found, more or less
Maybe a chance for a detector test
At Halls creek hell have better luck
Before he tackles the infamous Canning track
And all this on one slab of Emu Bitter
Never happen, maybe later
When hes back in the Golden West
Successfully reflecting on the severest test
Of man and wheels and detector too
But no doubt, his laptop maps have seen him through
Then onto keyboard with fingers pounding
Via this forum with tales astounding
Of his journey through cental Oz
Then well know where the Nightjar was
Sullivan
On Saturday the 19th of January at 2.50pm, My second eldest brother Robert John Langlands took his last breath surrounded by his loving wife and children, grand and great-children. He was 83years old. One of his all-time favourite songs was...Danny Boy... I will sorely miss his sky-blue eyes and infectious smile. His timely advice and his independent and 'can do' attitude to life has influenced my own life so very much.I'm hopeful that he would have approved of my humble tribute...given that I was so overwhelmed by his passing, that I have been in tears these last couple of days at the mention of his name.
My brother Bob, I learned that you were dying
Im sorry that I was not by your side
Just now Im told youve gone off on your journey
Swept like a leaf upon the endless tide.
And I recall whenst last I stood before thee
And we shook handsembraced as brothers do
And then you told me truly that you loved me
For it may be the last Id see of you.
And you were right your words come now to haunt me
I feel as though a spear has pierced my heart
So now forever I will sorely miss thee
Until I too, from this world must depart.
And so I pray someday, somewhere Ill greet you
Well take a cup and drink to old Lang Syne.
And on that day I know well both be smiling
My brother Bob...My brother Bob Oh, brother mine. Rossco19-1-2019.
My brother Bob, I learned that you were dying
Im sorry that I was not by your side
Just now Im told youve gone off on your journey
Swept like a leaf upon the endless tide.
And I recall whenst last I stood before thee
And we shook handsembraced as brothers do
And then you told me truly that you loved me
For it may be the last Id see of you.
And you were right your words come now to haunt me
I feel as though a spear has pierced my heart
So now forever I will sorely miss thee
Until I too, from this world must depart.
And so I pray someday, somewhere Ill greet you
Well take a cup and drink to old Lang Syne.
And on that day I know well both be smiling
My brother Bob...My brother Bob Oh, brother mine. Rossco19-1-2019.
My sincere condolences on your loss Reefer. Many of us are coming closer to that day and for some it is not far away.
Rob P.
Rob P.
Thanks, mate.YES ...None of us is guaranteed even a day in this life...I am the youngest of six children, there is only four of us now...all things being equal I will probably see them all go before me...that's just about more grief than any one person deserves...God knows the past few days have been very hard on me. But as Ned said...'such is life'
