ASF Poetry Thread

http://www.bushpoetry.com.au/master...eWT/tabid/841/Default.aspx?PageContentID=1210
OUGH!’ A Fonetic Fansy
WT Goodge (‘The Colonel’)

The baker-man was kneading dough
And whistling softly, sweet and lough.
Yet ever and anon he’d cough
As though his head was coming ough!
‘My word!’ said he, ‘but this is rough;
this flour is simply awful stough!’
He punched and thumped it through and through
As all good baker’s always dough!
‘I’d sooner drive,’ said he, ‘a plough,
Than be a baker anyhough!
Thus spake the baker kneading dough;
But don’t let on I told you sough!

as Homer would say ... Dough!!

http://www.bushpoetry.com.au/master...nry/tabid/703/Default.aspx?PageContentID=1163
HIS EPITAPH (He alwas Rod to Win)
By Will Ogilvie

On a little old bush racecourse at the back of No Man’s Land,
Where the mulgas mark the furlongs and a dead log marks the stand,
There’s a square of painted railings showing white against the loam
Where they fight for inside running as they round the bend for home;
Just a lonely grave and graveyard that are left to Nature’s care,
For the wild bush-flowers that brighten it were never planted there;
No monument or marble that will speak his praise or blame,
No verse to tell his story and no mark to prove his name.
But carved upon the white rail that is weather-worn and thin
Is the simple, roug-hewn legend: HE ALWAS ROD TO WIN!

Some poor, uncared-for jockey-boy, who never earned a name –
It’s the boys who “ride to orders” who can find the road to Fame;
And the flowers and marble head-stones and the wealth of gear and gold
Are the prizes of the riders who will “stop them” when they’re told!
Just a whisper at the saddling; “He’s the only danger, Dan,
That’s the boy will try to beat you – stop him, any way you can!”
Just a crowding at the corner and a crossing in the straight,
And a plucky little horseman who is “pulling out” too late;
A heavy fall, a horse is loose – and a lightweight carried in –
A shallow grave, a railing and: “HE ALWAS ROD TO WIN!”

Some brave, brown-handed comrade who has learned the rider’s worth
Has carved those rough words o’er him for the eyes of all the earth;
And though few may chance to pass him as he lies in simple state,
Those few will hold him honoured by the friendship of his mate.
And when, in Life’s keen struggle, we shall fight for inside place,
When they crowd us at the corner and we drop from out the race,
When the ringing hoofs go forward and the cheering greets the best,
And the prize is for the winner, and the red spurs for the rest,
May we find some true-heart comrade, when they’ve filled the last clods in,
Who will carve these words above us: HE ALWAS ROD TO WIN!

And another poem by Will Ogilvie - about Breaker Morant no less ( another who "Rod to Win")
http://www.bushpoetry.com.au/master...nry/tabid/703/Default.aspx?PageContentID=1162
HARRY MORANT By Will Ogilvie

Harry Morant was a friend I had , In the years long passed away,
A chivalrous, wild and reckless lad, A knight born out of his day.

Full of romance and void of fears, With a love of the world’s applause,
He should have been one of the cavaliers , Who fought in King Charles’s cause.

He loved a girl, and he loved a horse, And he never let down a friend,
And reckless he was, but he rode his course With courage up to the end.

“Breaker Morant” was the name he earned, For no bucking horse could throw
This Englishman who had lived and learned, As much as the bushmen know.

Many a mile have we crossed together, Out where the great plains lie,
To the clink of bit and the creak of leather – Harry Morant and I.

Time and again we would challenge Fate, With some wild and reckless “dare”,
Shoving some green colt over a gate, As though with a neck to spare.

At times in a wilder mood than most , We would face them at naked wire,
Trusting the sight of a gidyea post , Would lift them a half-foot higher.

And once we galloped a steeplechase , For a bet – ’twas a short half-mile
While one jump only, the stiffest place , In a fence of the old bush style.

A barrier built of blue-gum rails , As thick as a big man’s thigh,
And mortised into the posts – no nails – Unbreakable, four foot high.

Since both our horses were young and green, And had never jumped or raced,
Were we men who had tired of this earthly scene, We could scarce have been better placed.

“Off” cried “The Breaker”, and off we went , And he stole a length of lead,
Over the neck of the grey I bent , And we charged the fence full speed.

The brown horse slowed and tried to swerve, But his rider with master hand
And flaming courage and iron nerve , Made him lift and leap and land.

He rapped it hard with every foot , And was nearly down on his nose;
Then I spurred the grey and followed suit , And, praise to the gods – he rose!

He carried a splinter with both his knees , And a hind-leg left some skin,
But we caught them up at the wilga trees , Sitting down for the short run-in.

The grey was game and he carried on , But the brown had a bit to spare;
The post was passed, my pound was gone , And a laugh was all my share.

“The Braker” is sleeping in some far place , Where the Boer War heroes lie,
And we’ll meet no more in a steeplechase – Harry Morant and I.

STATION SONGS AND DROVING DITTIES
By Breaker Morant

'Station songs and droving ditties'! Strung together on the track
Far away from coastal cities In the droving days-outback;

Some on distant water-courses 'Neath the blazing Northern sun,
When returning with the horses To a far North-western run;

Some were fashioned in the gloaming While the morrow's damper cooked;
Some were penned by rivers roaming Where the wily fish was hooked;

Ere the midday 'quart' was ready And an hour was slow to pass
Whilst the nags were feeding steady On the ripening Mitchell grass;

Or, when horse-bells chimed and tinkled Where the feed was drenched with dew,
And the wintry white stars twinkled High above in heaven's blue.

Then-of stockwhips' ring and rattle In the range-some memory flashed;
Or of night-rides after cattle When the gidya branches crashed.

And a rhyme perchance I've come by Recollecting some past ride-
When we trapped the fing brumby On the Southern Queensland side.

Jingles!-neither good nor clever- Just a rover's random rhymes,
But they'll serve their turn if ever They recall the old bush times,

When a bushman, in his leisure, Reads them 'neath the shady pine;
Or they give one moment's pleasure To some old bush mate o' mine!
............................................

Also
THE BRIGALOW BRIGADE , (etc)
Bt Breaker Morant

There's a band of decent fellows
On a cattle-run outback-
You'll hear the timber smashing
If you follow in their track;.....
.................

The Brigalow Brigade are
Fastidious in their taste
In the matter of a maiden
And the inches of her waist;

She must be sweet and tender
And her eyes a decent shade-
Then her Ma may safely send her
To the Brigalow Brigade.
........... etc
...

You will see the options for all Breaker's Poems (as posted) on right hand side of his photo. The man was well known to be a larrikin of course - and not above doing the early morning flit to get out of paying for his lodgings etc

Here's a stack of other poets as well :-
http://www.bushpoetry.com.au/masterpoets/MasterPoetsHome/tabid/626/Default.aspx

Before leaving the topic of bushies and their poetry ...
here's one that floats up from my subconscious .. passed down from word of mouth...originally from my granpa who was a larrikin himself

Somehow a priest and a larrikin drover are having this debate - and each are asked to make a sentence with Timbuktu in it. (forget the details).

So the Priest says (very politely and reverendly):-
"I've been a preacher harf my life, I've preached through toil and trial and strife,
I've preached to the many , and preached to the few, I've even preached in Timbuktu!!"
and gently resumes his seat, feeling very happy with himself

So the larrikin drover has to respond...thinks hard . .. finally his eyes light up and he responds....

"ME AN TIM A'DROVIN WENT
WE HAD THREE SHIELAS IN OUR TENT
mmm
THEY WERE THREE , and mmm
WE WAS TWO, so, mmm
I BUCKED ONE , AND TIMBUKTO!!"

(ahh guess you had to be there lol)

the following was obviously written under the grip of some extremely intoxicating grape.
WHAT DO YOU DO WITH A WINDBREAK EXPERT

What do you do with a Windbreak expert when the expert is a-busy breaking wind
W.d.y.d.w.a Tinhead roofer when the roofer’s head is busy being tinned,
W.d.y.d.w.a Sinbinned half-forward when the forward claims he only half sinned.
And W.d.y.d.w.a Spindoctor agent when the aging fellow’s doctoring a spin.

What do you do with a……
Back spin bowler when the bowler’s busy spinning on his back
Crack sharp shooter when the shooter’s busy sharpening his crack
Wacky wittle wabbit when the wabbit are a-wittlin’ its wack
Sacked poli-tician when the ‘ticians are makin’ Polly in the sack.

What do you do with a……
Daredevil stuntman when the stuntman’s out a-devilling his dare
Scare monger journo when the journo’s out there mongering a scare,
Tare weight re-checker when the checker’s reaching back to fix a tear,
Bare back jumper when he’s out the back and busy jumpin’ bear.

What do you do with a……
Fly fishing angler when he’s angle-ing to fishing with his fly
Lie detector copper when the copper is detector-ing a lie
Pibald palimino when your pal is a-balding like a pie
Rhyebread loaf when the loafer’s busy breeding in the rhye.

What do you do with a……
Morse code cracker when the coder is a-crackin on his morse
Force fed Jeddi when he’s out there a-feeding on the Force
Horse float designer when he’s busy out designing floating horse
Course record holder when the holder’s out recording something coarse.

What do you do with a……
Lousy imitator when he’s busy out there imitating lice
Ice cream confection when the ice confection’s busy creaming ice
Mighty mouse fanatic when he’s busy out there fanning mighty mice
Rice paddy farmer when the farmer’s out there paddying his rice.

What do you do with a…
Roman gladiator when the gladiator’s glad –e- ate in Rome
Foamrubber mattress when the mattress is a-rubbing on the foam
Disco dancefloor whn your discs are floored and saying “take me home!”
Poetry tribunal when the ‘bunal is as trying as this poem.

"He was beautiful"

He was beautiful
Beautiful to my eyes
From the moment I saw him
The sun filled the sky
He was so, so beautiful
Beautiful just to hold
In my dreams he was springtime
Winter was cold
How could I tell him What I so clearly could see
Though I longed for him
I never could be free
It was beautiful
Knowing now that he cares
I will always remember moments we shared
Now it's all over Still the feelings ling' on
For my dream keeps returning
Now that he's gone
For it was beautiful Beautiful Beautiful to be loved

Don't you love that last stanza...

.......Friendship that can laugh at fortune, friendship that can conquer pride!
Offer this as to an equal -- let me see that you are true,
And my wall of pride is shattered: I am not so proud as you!

A PROUDER MAN THAN YOU, by Henry Lawson

If you fancy that your people came of better stock than mine,
If you hint of higher breeding by a word or by a sign,
If you're proud because of fortune or the clever things you do --
Then I'll play no second fiddle: I'm a prouder man than you!

If you think that your profession has the more gentility,
And that you are condescending to be seen along with me;
If you notice that I'm shabby while your clothes are spruce and new --
You have only got to hint it: I'm a prouder man than you!

If you have a swell companion when you see me on the street,
And you think that I'm too common for your toney friend to meet,
So that I, in passing closely, fail to come within your view --
Then be blind to me for ever: I'm a prouder man than you!

If your character be blameless, if your outward past be clean,
While 'tis known my antecedents are not what they should have been,
Do not risk contamination, save your name whate'er you do --
`Birds o' feather fly together': I'm a prouder bird than you!

Keep your patronage for others! Gold and station cannot hide
Friendship that can laugh at fortune, friendship that can conquer pride!
Offer this as to an equal -- let me see that you are true,
And my wall of pride is shattered: I am not so proud as you!

"NEVER, NEVER, NEVER"

I'd like to run away from you
but if you never found me I would die
I'd like to break the chains you put around me
but I know I never will

You stay away and all I do
is wonder why the hell I wait for you
but when did common sense prevail for lovers
when we knew it never will?

Impossible to live with you
but I know I could never live without you
For whatever you do,
I never never never Want to be in love with anyone but you...

You make me laugh, you make me cry
you make me live, you make me die for you
you make me sing, you make me sad
you make me glad, you make me mad for you

I love you, hate you, love you, hate you
but I want you til the world stops turning
For whatever you do,
I never never never Want to be in love with anyone but you...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gyY8QkKMEig&mode=related&search= never never

One of my favourites, and relevant to that anti muslim thread:

We Are Accused Of Terrorism
We are accused of terrorism
If we dare to write about the remains of a homeland
That is scattered in pieces and in decay
In decadence and disarray
About a homeland that is searching for a place
And about a nation that no longer has a face

About a homeland that has nothing left of its great ancient verse
But that of wailing and eulogy

About a homeland that has nothing in its horizons
Of freedoms of different types and ideology

About a homeland that forbids us from buying a newspaper
Or listen to anything
About a homeland where all birds are always not allowed to sing
About a homeland that out of horror, its writers are using invisible ink

About a homeland that resembles poetry in our country
Improvised, imported, loose and of no boundaries
Of foreign tongue and soul
Detached from Man and Land, ignoring their plight as a whole

About a homeland to the negotiating table moves
Without a dignity or shoes

About a homeland
That no more has steadfast men
With only women therein

Bitterness is in our mouthsin our talkin our eyes
Will draught also plague our souls as a legacy passed to us
from ancient times?

Our nation has nobody left, even the less glorified
No one to say "NO" in the face of those who gave up our
homebread and butter
Turning our colorful history into a circus

We have not a single honest poem
That has not lost its virginity in a ruler's Harem

We grew accustomed to humiliation
Then what is left of Man
If he is comfortable with that?

I search the books of history
For men of greatness to deliver us from darkness
To save our women from fires' brutality

I search for men of yesterday
But all I find is frightened cats
Fearing for their souls
From the authority of rats

Are we hit by national blindness
Or are we suffering from color blindness

We are accused of terrorism
If we refuse to perish
Under Israeli tyranny
That is hampering our unity
Our history
Our Bible and our Quran
Our prophets' land
If that is our sin and crime
Then terrorism is fine

We are accused of terrorism
If we refuse to be wiped out
By barbarians, the Mongols or the Jews
If we choose to stone the fragile security council
Which was sacked by the king of caesuras

We are accused of terrorism
If we refuse to negotiate the wolf
And reach out for a whore

America is fighting the cultures of Man
Because it lacks one
And against the civilizations because it needs one
It is a gigantic structure but without a wall

We are accused of terrorism
If we refuse current times
Where America the arrogant the mighty the rich
Became a sworn interpreter of Hebrew.

--Nizar Kabbani

chops_a_must said:

One of my favourites--Nizar Kabbani

Click to expand...

Wow Chops, interesting that you know of Nizar Kabbani, I didn't think he's that famous in the west. He's mainly known for his romantic poetry (really nice stuff). How do you know of him if you don't mind me asking?

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nizar_Qabbani
thanks chops and ng - interesting . his smile is a good start
Hell, one way or another we have to become more cosmopolitan !!

Lol , although I can tell you now, I'll never understand Egyptian music - different scale for a start! - NOTHING like our music.
- don't know which is worse !! - Chinese or Egyptian or Thai or etc, lol ). Thai is like a bull in a crockery shop !! with a stack of mad drummers on crack thrown in

2020hindsight said:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nizar_Qabbani
thanks chops and ng - interesting . his smile is a good start
Hell, one way or another we have to become more cosmopolitan !!

Lol , although I can tell you now, I'll never understand Egyptian music - different scale for a start! - NOTHING like our music.
- don't know which is worse !! - Chinese or Egyptian or Thai or etc, lol Thai is like a bull in a crockery shop !! with a stack of mad drummers on crack thrown in

Click to expand...

2020

You left me no choice seriousley though, where did you hear egyptian music??? this thread IS becoming cosmopolitan, you're right (nailed it as usuall)!!! Actually more like ARABIC and what's "hilariously ironic" is that both of you aren't (I think). This whole thing is starting to feel a little weird.

ps: It's almost like "Valuing the intangible? Measuring the incalculable?" don't you think chops

another ps: I agree 2020 Thai music and chinese music is definately something you won't find in heaven

new girl said:

2020

you left me no choice seriousley though, where did you hear egyptian music? this thread IS becoming cosmopolitan you're right. actually more like ARABIC and what's "hilariously ironic" is that both of you aren't.

ps it's almost like "Valuing the intangible? Measuring the incalculable?" don't you think chops?

Click to expand...

and/or "the inscrutible smile on the Sphinx?" maybe
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R0xBuTEiCoM
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abd_el-Halim_Hafez
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Music_of_Egypt etc -

"instruments: the ney and the oud. Double clarinets and lyres were played from around 3500 BC, while percussion instruments were added to orchestras by 2000 BC. However, there is little notation of Egyptian music before the 7th century AD, when Egypt became part of the Muslim world."

there are those veils again Must've been very relaxed mufti's in these days .!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eCZoyh6I5Kk&mode=related&search=
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O5vqWnhGAew&mode=related&search= (interesting music lol)

2020hindsight said:

and/or "the inscrutible smile on the Sphinx?" maybe

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2020

This thread is becoming too deep, intellectual and a little lefti for my liking, let's go back to romance please :remybussi

ps light type of kiss, something a mufti would approve of don't you think?

2020hindsight said:

and/or "the inscrutible smile on the Sphinx?" maybe
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R0xBuTEiCoM
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abd_el-Halim_Hafez
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Music_of_Egypt etc -

there are those veils again Must've been very relaxed mufti's in these days .!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eCZoyh6I5Kk&mode=related&search=
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O5vqWnhGAew&mode=related&search= (interesting music lol)

Click to expand...

Un-what i feel when i'm excercising-BELIEVABLE!! 2020, you always manage somehow to surprise me, how do you know of abd-el halim?? people, this thread has to be renamed!!!!

ps those veils are very dear to me

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b0zAkMRfPfY - speaking of cosmopotitan blokes With A Little Luck - Paul McCartney & Wings

Folks, I was wondering if anyone out there had a copy of a poem "SHADOW SAN" , possibly "SHADOW-SAN" etc.
Theme is not dissimilar to the shadow girl in this video. But there are also references to fights between doves of peace etc.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eIfrqdru1B8 the shadow girl ( o boy )

Such a modern concept - and such a terrifying one - the only thing left of a person is their shadow

Any assistance much appreciated - but don't waste too much time on it - could be it isn't on google for instance - or possibly slightly different name (?) - but I was hoping someone just might happen to have a copy.

PS the original references to "ground zero" seem to have been coined at Hiroshima. (?)

PPS After the war, the Japanese invented monsters like Godzilla - fire breathing etc - even the term "shadow man" is frequently used - but the meaning has changed over the years. o Boy, you reckon that those bombs had a major effect on the Japanese psyche or what !!http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ynO9_EGZCw

googled Nizar Qabbani looking for some of his work in english

In "Diary of an Indifferent Woman," he writes as a woman:

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I want to escape from my own skin
from my own voice, from my own language
and stray like the fragrance of gardens
I want to flee from my own shadow
and from all addresses

"The Book of Love" is worshipful and timeless.

Click to expand...

The name of my love.
I wrote it on the water.
I did not know
That the wind rushes by without listening,
That names dissolve in the water.

He also asks: "What is Love?" Then he humorously explains how he cannot change the woman he loves for she is "a storm trapped in a bottle."

Click to expand...

I write
to save the woman I love
from the cities of no poetry,
of no love
the cities of frustration and gloom
I write to make her a misty cloud
Only woman and writing
Save us from death.

new girl said:

googled Nizar Qabbani looking for some of his work in english

Click to expand...

yep - and what's more, better a storm in a bottle - than a storm in a teacup