The following ‘poems’ were inspired by my recent trip to “Lorrina Hill’ the rural retreat of my niece and nephew(s). The property is situated near Braidwood, NSW. May on the Southern Highlands can be a severe time, particularly near the eastern escarpment when storm clouds rush up the Clyde. I have attempted to express some of my feeling of the people of ‘Lorrina’ (such as Ken, Elva, Dianne the Pauls and Murray Bunn). My nephew Paul is keen to see ‘Lorrina Hill’ transformed. In the interim, life on the land can be stark, unforgiving and filled with humour. Some of the sentiments are of a base and obnoxious nature, as are some of the most redeeming features of this place.
Not all that animate are animate.
Not all that live, are alive.
Take from these, what you will.
Will from these forever!
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EAST RETURNS
Cold as a beer
On a cloudy day
It whines then roars
It’s way, to the coast
The sun peeks thru
But does not see
The men below
Wasgging away
Birds shiver
Rabbits quiver
Waiting for summer
To return
The grass sleeps
Will-o-the-wisps
Float, and frolic
On dust
The images
Become hazy
With white noise
Zipping the ether
The cattle lower
Themselves, as well
Until nought remains
To freeze
A man sits
Pondering his navel
And waits
For the giant to sleep.
IN MEMORIAN
It sits, forlorn atop a rise
All green and stark
One day it will die
The lonely death of decay
Before it goes, it shades
A land, barren, rocky and hard
Creaking and gasping for breadth
Whilst breathing icicles
In its place will rise a Phoenix
Solid, and warm as toast
With waves of heat
And a place to sit in comfort
The tinkling will elicit
Fond memories of the days
When the water froze
On its way to hell.
WAITING FOR THE MIST TO RISE
The man shuffles, clinching his cheeks
To ward off the cold, of a sunny day
Dust rises, and settles, waiting, for the fly
To land and take a bath, watching his back
A sound is heard, quiet at first
But soon, growing to a rumble
Ruddy cheeks and a big grin, float into field
Followed by a hound, sniffing and scratching
Long coat, blue and hued, falling like stalks
Moleskins all torn, boots encrusted
Gidday, good weather, for chasing a wether,
Wether you want to, or not
LOST LOVES
Dead leaves
Lie wither and drying
On a dusty floor
Outside, a tree cries
Looking lonely
Searching for its loss
The wind roars
Boughs bending
Twisting in agony
All is quiet in the lull
Before the returning storm
The tree weeps.
THE CHOOK CHASER
There it stands on two fat legs
A tall bee, asleep
Suddenly, it is kicked
It roars to life, awake buzzing and gurgling
It moves, backwards at first
Then with a click, it shoots forward
Out the door and down the hill
Sucking in air and spitting black phlegm
Backwards and forwards, rushing here
And there, then around and around
Up the big hill and down the scree
Looking to shift, the flay on its back
It stops and waits, for the air to catch up
Then off again, on one leg
Off logs and rocks that bar its way
Till it flounders and flops
It gasps a last breadth
Before it is consumed, in fire.
VERDANT STEEL
Sitting on sand, itself
Colour of trees
Shaking in fear, cringing
Hiding from the hoary best
The beast roars and tears
Her stomach, twists
Punches, bellowing
She stands firm
Boys lie. Awake, scared
Waiting for the dawn
Frightened, the beast will roar
And break them free
With one last breadth
The hoary beast tosses
Its weight, running amok
She quivers, then breaks away
New life, soaring, turning
End on end and around
Slashing, breaking
Smitten to smithereens
The dawn breaks
New life begins
Sleeping, peacefully
In field of brown.
Travellers arrive, looking
Peering thru the mist
All they find is rust
Whitened bones and a beanie
A PEACOCK’S LAMENT
Withered, gnarled, unyielding
Cold and drawn
Scrabbling to hold
Life on the land
Heartened by a smile
From a Nightingale
A cheery look
A hot scone
Land is a legacy
That holds dismay
Rotting the muscle
Unbreathing life
They lie apart
United in love
For the land
A boy toils!
UNCHAINED MELODY
Dappled light, filtered
Streaming on the breeze
Framing those
Who would be framed
Birds twitter
Crickets creak
A rabbit twitches
In throes, of iron
The stream wends its way
With leaves plopping
Into a murky swill
When all is quiet
The sun comes out
The rains comes
Washing the soil.
JUICED SHEEP
The crags reveal
Nature, raw as the scrape
Of sandpaper
On a blighted life
Tempestuous, garrulous
Sparking with zest
Seeking soulless
On a distilled teat
Ready to bark
A crusty rejoinder
Seeking relief
For a troubled heart
He rises at last
Stumbles headlong
Into a grey blur
Straightens and sings
Along a path well worn.
THE ICEMAN COMETH
Little sprites, jump, and run
From clump to clump
Of willowy wisps
In a sea of stars
The branch breaks
Tumbling, they fall and plunge
Broken
By leaves and dust
Legs asunder, arms atwist
They lay, dying
White blood drips
Coalesces, frozen in fright
Morning comes, she squints
Peeks, one eye open
Slowly at first, looking
Melting the shards of death.
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Life follows Songlines 