"billabong" poems
Oh there once was a swagman camped in the billabong,
Under the shade of a Coolabah tree;
And he sang as he looked at his old billy boiling
"Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me."
Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda, my darling.
Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me.
Waltzing Matilda and leading a water-bag —
Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me.
Down came a jumbuck to drink at the waterhole,
Up jumped the swagman and grabbed him in glee;
And he sang as he stowed him away in his tucker-bag,
"You'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me."
Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda, my darling.
Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me.
Waltzing Matilda and leading a water-bag —
Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me.
Down came the squatter a-riding his thoroughbred;
Down came policemen — one, two, and three.
"Whose is the jumbuck you've got in the tucker-bag?
You'll come a-waltzing Matilda with we."
Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda, my darling.
Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me.
Waltzing Matilda and leading a water-bag —
Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me.
But the swagman, he up and he jumped in the waterhole,
Drowning himself by the Coolabah tree;
And his ghost may be heard as it sings in the billabong
"Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?"
Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda, my darling.
Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me.
Waltzing Matilda and leading a water-bag.
Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me
5.2k
in the outback of austrailia lived a kangaroo a funny little chap and very happy too
one day when he was hopping merrily along suddenly he saw a little billabong
he stopped to take a look to see what he could see then he heard a noise from behind a tree
then out popped a wombat who had lost his way so behind the tree he thought that he would stay
jump in to my pouch said roo i will take you for a ride then the little wombat climbed his way inside
so back in to the outback off they both did roam the wombat he was happy now he was going home
Feb 15, 2010
Feb 15, 2010 at 8:26 AM UTC
The drunk is hanging still
from his father’s old shoelace
and the gentlemen are inside
below the starry billabong
hunching and flinching
and forgetting their prayers.
Cattle of darken faces stare at me
and all I see are diamonds
a dim reflection
of those sweet dreams
that belched a fire on a squall.
Her dark green eyes reminded me
of those few days the midnight shone
a moon clinging from her *******
and the leafed body that she wore
She told me to disappear
behind the prairie we both built
and then burned her luscious look
across the lamp lit afternoon.
A thrush died cowardly
and the soldier broke the rotten gun
well, no timber man could hold still
as the drunken old man drew on the wall
the memories of those born to kneel
before a pair of dark green eyes.
The blatant look stood astride me
but I could never felt a thing
so I dreamt of paradise
welling from the blazing riverside
And as the wind swelled cold
all I saw were her dark green eyes
–they dwindle swiftly to the night –.
I felt a dire shot
as the shoal of words I’d forgot
kindle the last midnight moon
and all I could do is sleep away
leave the pledging river to shine out
just before the aurora from her crown
shut down those dark green eyes.
Mar 27, 2011
Mar 27, 2011 at 4:24 AM UTC
Demons of my past come and throng
My mind; query me of dreams forlorn:
“Isn't dwelling on redemption for the strong?”
But, I am a leaf on a rambunctious river, I reply,
My purpose is forever to be moving on.
Swept by wild winds off my grip on the tree,
Splash! Fallen! pressed on to the edge of me.
Flowing by, flowers and thorns, since I begun,
And though the current often swept me under,
I've always re-surfaced to look upon the Sun.
“But, life off the tree lacks meaning, dead wrong!”
“You may get swept to the wide open sea,
Or you might get struck in a forgotten billabong.”
Yes! Though perilous the Jungle may be
to the lone. I am still alive, and finally, forever me.
Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 5:20 PM UTC
in the outback of austrailia lived a kangaroo.
a funny little chap and very happy too
one day when he was hopping merrily along.
suddenly he saw a little billabong.
he stopped to take a look to see what he could see.
then he heard a noise from behind a tree
out popped a little wombat who had lost his way.
so behind the tree he thought that he would stay.
jump in to my pouch said roo i will take you for a ride.
then the little wombat climbed his way inside
so back in to the outback off they both did roam.
the wombat he was happy now he was going home
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 8:27 AM UTC
Let's master the pipeline
Billabong brands my chest
Let me ride my dreams
On my board and your *******
No plans past tomorrow
Gonna live loud today
Put on that wet suit
And let's make love to the waves.
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 9:20 AM UTC
Dare I say it,
The oasis,
More like a billabong,
Is love.
And every thirsty beast wants a drink.
The water hole is muddy and dangerous,
Nonetheless,
With mixed success,
Each will take their chances.
Some are killed outright
By a crouching tiger or hidden gator.
Others get a couple of quick sips
But are run off by fear.
And a lucky few
Drink deeply,
Sustaining them for years.
Aug 29, 2010
Aug 29, 2010 at 5:45 PM UTC
some days
the bunyip
comes
to
rip
tear
and rend
the
dreams
from
your
flesh
and
the
flesh
from
your
soul
somedays
the bunyip
just
comes
and takes
you whole
but most days
he sleeps
in the billabong
everdeep
in the stolen
lives he
has chosen
to keep.
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 2:45 AM UTC
for some reason,
unnown yet
i am sitting here
hot coffee in hand
transfixed by the
memory of a day
lifetimes ago.....
when i took a wrong turn
seeking a small town... and
a cobbler of soft leather shoes...
instead i found myself
on a bush track, far too
narrow to turn my combi
van around
forced to travel on...
getting further and further
along
until, abruptly the track widened
and the most gorgeous vista
appeared
green grass, sedges and spinfex in waves,
led down to a billabong, eucalypt gums,
ghost and red,
large in size and old in years
dotted the irregular,
ameboic shape
and the water,
so clear, so clear, so clear
reflecting the cloud dusted sky,
to one side the face of a gorge, ochre red rusted
crazed weith black cracks
and green whiskery growths,
on which rock wallabies fed.
unafraid of the big lemoned
wedged combi, who sat
monolithically in their environs.
as i disembarked,
up from the grass thicket, one thousand and one (i counted) budgerigars alight and took to the wing,
in a swirling mass of
god's whimsical glory.
the sound, a deafening
chirk-chatter and whoosh
as they, in sychron,
wheeled and turned flew over my head and back into the bush.
needless to say, i never bothered to buy those soft
leather shoes.....
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 7:03 PM UTC
though this sounds absurd
I do believe
I'm a bird
as many times
I've twittered a song
whilst perched in a tree
overlooking
a billabong
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 7:43 PM UTC
There once was a codger from Sydney
who said, 'That bloke stole my sheep, didn' 'e!'
He chased him to Illawong,
pushed him in a billabong,
and stabbed him twelve times in the kidney.
Apr 24, 2018
Apr 24, 2018 at 4:59 AM UTC
Down among the Zed men, lay a little lullaby,
Waiting to be sung; by the children of the sea.
And waiting in the billabong with a feather helmet on,
Was Willie of the three hearts, to see what he could see.
‘Well, lookie here’, said Willie, when he saw the little lullaby,
‘Who left you to lie around, unwanted and unsung?’
‘Bad boys, mad boys, they left me here to waste away,
Won’t you to take me across the sea, to shores far flung?’
So, Willie picked up lullaby and put him in his little sack.
‘I’d better take you home my love, it’s time for tea’.
‘Oh thank you” said the sweet refrain” I will be your friend,
For you have saved me from my fate, as well as you can see’.
So! Off they went with merry step, to find the way to ******* home
And soon they heard the calling voice of ******* faithful mum.
‘Hello lad, where’ve you been now and who is that you’re carrying?’
You’ve both arrived in time for supper, jellied wasps and roses, and cream.
An hour later warm and fed, soft lullaby wished them many thanks
‘Think nothing of it’, said ******* mum, pouring another cup of steam
‘Come on said Willie, Let’s light a fire
Well lullaby, so happy now, living with his special friends,
Laid a spell upon them both and gave them the eternal dream.
This is how they dream,
Fairy cakes and shaggy dogs
Washing lines and rainy days
Hammers, nails and rusty iron
Pretty dolls and mornings in May
Clouds that look like Ships of the line
Leviathan whales and teapot cosies
Skipping children and Waterfalls
Thunderstorms and sweet little posies
Blues and reds and pinks and greens and
Black and red and black and blue and black and blue and black and blue...
Sweet dreams,
Remember,
Lullabies are forever.
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 8:13 AM UTC
Life is a Bi-ach
Not a beach
Bring your mi-ti
Don't preach
Sing a song
Dream of Billabong
Corona and cabanas
Life is bananas
Jun 9, 2018
Jun 9, 2018 at 11:22 PM UTC
Idling in a wedding gown,
white on white skin reflecting in its paleness
the filth of what has been
and what is to be.
Slips of fabric tease hard lines of shoulder,
a wispy, hyaline veil cascades in reverence
about honeyed curls
and through the curtain, his lashes flutter
a boyish acquiesce.
Fruit trees sprout on the petticoats of the billabong:
desert figs and passionfruit
and currants thick with black flesh
who peel themselves back
to tumble into his wide-open mouth.
Tulle and silk bunch around his knees
soaking in juices from the feast.
Eyelids lower over two blissed out
messy half-moons,
while drool or puke or juice
drivel down his chin
in uneven, marbled strings.
Jul 23, 2023
Jul 23, 2023 at 11:15 PM UTC