"bushland" poems
I see a flash
A sight to behold
The work of an immortal sculptor
Walking straight in elegant pride
Worth of a princess of the sun
Firmly transfixed in her twelve
Moving into the emptiness of an Invalid society
Her innocence screaming
In an unchallenged clarity
And only twelve moons
The framework of her modelling salivates
Wolves in men
Who's been exposed to the virus
Emerging from the bushland of their desires
To seek their vengeance in a fanatical hatred
And poor me the Princess
With the *** Lunacy roaming the streets
Sanity of abstinence is the greatest challenge.
Swung from poverty to adolescence
A pendulum of fates
Hunger at home for the family
And her homestead a moonscape of desolation.
The two Hundred shillings does the trick
She trades out her innocence
And virginity too- a girl's pride
And alongside the legal tender comes the virus
The minute Monster
Savoring a society of huge minds.
There is the tuberculosis
In a hospital ward
Full of undug graves and shrines unnamed
Drawn into the vacuum of her fate
Eyes wide open in dismal finality
The princess
Lie in freeze frame of death
A pyramid of events
Molded out of her last several terrible seconds
Lamentation for the society
A dull eulogy
For our girls.
Feb 16, 2012
Feb 16, 2012 at 2:03 AM UTC
Abbie hailed a yellow top cabbie
Brenda had a sister in-law named Glenda
Cate ran late on her first date
Delly ate seven bowls of lemon jelly
Edwina drove to the town of Catalina
Fran burnt her finger on the very hot frying pan
Gwen had a strong yen to go and see her aunty Jen
Hope bought her husband a towing rope
Isobel fell under the magician's spell
Joann took her mother on a holiday in a caravan
Kylie went to the dentist with her brother Wylie
Lesley liked listening to Elvis Presley
Marcia enjoyed eating a freshly baked focaccia
Nell saw a turtle coming out of his shell
Olga lived at the top end of the river Volga
Primrose had a Pinocchio nose
Queenie knitted a multicolored beanie
Ruth could never tell the whole truth
Stacey loved playing dress ups with her friend Tracey
Tilly behavior was always rather silly
Una bought a house in the suburb of Yagonna
Verity wanted to be a well known celebrity
Winifred never stopped taking about Alfred
Xena was presented with a court subpoena
Yale told her teacher a tall tale
Zealand ventured out into the bushland
Aug 25, 2013
Aug 25, 2013 at 8:30 AM UTC
a silver moon
beams over the bushland tonight
a silver moon
like an illuminated spoon
gleaming with a glimmer so bright
to the eye giving such delight
a silver moon
Nov 13, 2016
Nov 13, 2016 at 4:49 AM UTC
Australia is the lucky country
Lucky, yes we are
Australia is the lucky country
Lucky, yes we are
The luckiest country
Compared to the Middle East
And I know Australians live in poverty
But we have beaches and footy mate
We also have events to bring the families in
To enjoy this wonderful country
Lucky, yes we are
We have loads of helpers
That look after the poor
We also have people
Who show our great bushland
To walk around and explore
Yes we are the lucky country
Compared to the Middle East
We do have our problems
Like a lot of people do
We enjoy the party people
Because we need to have fun
Yes we do oh yeah
We have great tv from our many stations
We bring what we don’t have on tv
To the radio
Because Australia is the lucky country
Lucky, yes we are
We play carols all over the country
And at the carols we collect money
To give to many charities
We go for walks and runs
And that is what we do for fun
And we march every Anzac Day
To honour Australia’s diggers
YouTube keeps the people in touch
Of this great big world
Because Australia really cares for
Other countries and that is why we are the lucky country
Lucky, yes we are
Aussie Aussie Aussie
Lucky yes oh yeah
Jun 6, 2019
Jun 6, 2019 at 8:17 PM UTC
The bushland calls
Of my childhood dreams
Amongst the wild
My soul it, sings
The gentle breeze
light upon the skin
Sun upon my face
it welcomes me in
To the lands of summers
Though now long gone
Memories of the heats haze
With a white juvenile horse
Within a closed off field it lay
But young and free it was born
Birds flying high above
Shielding the rays of the sky
Perfectly clear a crystal bright blue
Not a single cloud in sight
Fields filled with nothing
But the dirt beneath our feet
Dull patches of green and yellow
Amongst cattle it feeds
A rooster it crows loud
The chooks begin to run
As bruce, a little staffy
Chases them about
Work shed full of tools
Covered by a rusted tin roof
Parked beside it old barrols
And a broken down ute
Stone walls of the house
To keep it cool inside
Spread across the cold floors
A reddish brown cowhide
Worn down leather couch
Out upon the front porch
An eski filled with stubbies
Where the boys had their "talks"
I feel the memories flooding back
This peacefulness, this sense of home
Hours pass by within seconds
Losing myself in the zone
My footsteps have long faded with time
As has my name once carved upon the gumtrees
The white stallion no longer grazes near by
Nor do the same cattle dwell in that field
Worn down by time and way of the land
Though I do intend to return again
To share the beauty of this place
Drawn back by the old fate
The day melts away like the snow
And I hear my parent calling my name
This place will forever be my second home
Because I know here, I'll never be alone
Sep 30, 2018
Sep 30, 2018 at 7:58 AM UTC
dusk descends upon the Oz bush landscape
the sun slowly reclines westward
cattle and sheep make for nightly camps
the faint sound of birds are heard
gum trees cast last shadows
o'er the land a hush
day closes
then to
night
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
stars
aplenty
fill the sky
the scent of earth
flows on the soft breeze
so calming those night hours
the country is serene and still
how fortunate we who live here
in a place which is like paradise
as the moon sails across the bushland skies
Nov 12, 2013
Nov 12, 2013 at 5:17 AM UTC
the countryside is covered
in a blanket of smoke
bush fires are burning
around the Guy Fawk's spoke
some thirty thousand hectares
of land has been fried
farms and parts of the national park
burnt from side to side
fire authorities are working
day and night
to encircle the flames and embers
which so searingly bite
slowly they are winning
the protracted war against the flares
their fire fighting equipment
quelling the inferno's chilling nightmare
within the next few days
the fire shall be extinguished and put out
then the countryside wont be covered
in the smokes choking tout
the air will be as clear as a bell
and less smokiness will stand
all the ashes in the bushland
shall bear testament to the fire's brand
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 6:23 AM UTC
I am dreaming of a white Christmas
I say stop, cause it's too **** hot for that
You see instead of skiing and skating on ice
We are having barbecues and swimming in the pool
And instead of Santa coming down the chimney he goes through the computer screen and uncle robbie and jim bob
And Jacob lying on the beach getting a tan and if they are dreaming of a white Christmas well stop cause in Australia
It's too **** hot for that
You see kids are riding their surfboards
On Bondi beach and santa will join us
Everyone is having fun
And robbie pulls out six pack
And said lets get out backpacks
And hike through the kangaroo island bushland
If you dream of a white Christmas
Well stop cause in Australia it's too
**** hot
You see we go off the Queensland and sere the big pineapple and then go down to Coffs Harbour to see the big banana and mum is sweating in the kitchen cooking the Christmas bird
And we go to jamberoo to slide down the waterslide
And uncle Freddie said ** ** ** look at me go
I am dreaming of a white Christmas
I should stop cause in Australia it's too **** too ****
Too **** hot
Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 8:22 AM UTC
flames
fiercely racing
through the bushland terrain
consuming all within their path
charred trees and houses bear testament
to their tirade of destruction
the landscape badly burnt
furious fire
flames
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 11:15 PM UTC
This, the thin end of the green wedge,
Suburban bushland at society's edge,
listening to party platforms,
can anyone believe such reforms?
Yes, election time in anxious Australia,
Who is to be our climate saviour?
We hear spellbinding visions,
Are these swept away by ambitions?
Insatiable appetites of giant companies,
I thought the land of Oz was for you and me.....
May 25, 2016
May 25, 2016 at 3:28 PM UTC
the countryside is covered
in a blanket of smoke
bush fires are burning
in and around the Rhynie spoke
some thirty thousand hectares
of land have been fried
farms and parts of the National Park
burnt from side to side
the fire authorities are working
by day and by night
to encircle the flames and embers
which so searingly bite
slowly they are winning
the protracted war against the flares
their fire fighting equipment
quelling the inferno's nigthmare
within the next few days the fire
shall be extinguished and put out
then the countryside wont be covered
in the smoke's thick tout
the air will be as clear as a bell
and less haziness shall stand
the ashes in the bushland
shall bear testament to the fire's brand
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 8:50 PM UTC
I remember when you first came into my life. I had another brother … not a sister … but another brother. That was okay though. I was your big sister and so I could look after you.
I remember brothers who ganged up on their big sister when she was left in charge.
I remember hours and hours of playing board games together and riding bikes up and down the street.
I remember the day you ran away from home. We looked and looked for hours but you were nowhere to be found. They called the police and then everyone was looking for you. Hours later they found you in the bushland near home. I still don’t really know why you ran away that day but I think I know.
I remember how you were always quiet. Shy. You preferred people not to notice you.
I remember your paintings, the comics you wrote. They were amazing.
I remember your suffering through illness and the terrible things it did to you.
I remember the day I had to admit you to hospital. It was so difficult to do. You did not want to be there.
I remember hoping and praying that you would be okay. That you would recover and become all you could become.
I remember your last visit with me. A goodbye that I did not realise was being said.
I remember the next day. The day they told me I would never see you again.
I remember your poems. The ones you left behind … the poems so hard to read … so full of pain.
I remember the beautiful letter you wrote me.
I remember an innocent boy and the kindest young man.
I remember a child of God who never wished to hurt anyone or anything.
I remember an idealist who imagined peace for the world.
I remember your love for me.
I remember a beautiful soul.
I remember you.
And I will never forget you.
Jan 15, 2011
Jan 15, 2011 at 3:41 AM UTC
Endless dreaming wide brown land
Floods and droughts in cycles come
Long parched deserts they abound
Along the shoreline civilizations found
In horse and dray explorers roamed
Harsh bushland coastal open plains
Then the goldfields and coal seams
Steamers plied their river trade
Convict labour enshrined in chains
Bushrangers encased in metal mail
Laws and rules made across the sea
So many generations that set us free
Governors harsh like Macquarie
The common people did not see
On the sheep’s back we once did ride
Gone now that Australian way
Gone now our once countries pride
Again owned and at outsiders behest
Country strip mined foreign owned
Where now the old call of mateship true
Again the land owned and at outsiders behest
Country strip mined and foreign owned
Where again now the call of mateship true
Could our cultures time truly be through
Again the stain of religions from across the sea
Creeping forcing change from deep inside within
Even now words written such as these
They use our very laws to gag and choke
(If this offends anybody glad it served the purpose for which I wrote it )
(GE2014)
https://www.facebook.com/SilmarilliansPoetry
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 7:13 AM UTC
*Butterflies fluttering
through shrubs and trees
everywhere,
Kangaroo droppings
scattered randomly
here and there.
Wombat burrows
make for a cool secret home,
Wild ferns in clumps
where deer
has been known to roam.
An ocean of giant trees
making waves
as far as the naked eye can see,
This is my piece of the forest,
This is where my heart is--this is home
to me.
My dream
to own a piece of Australian bushland
has finally come to be,
I am forever grateful and ever so thankful
that God has given this grand blessing
to us - to me.
By Lady R.F©2017*
Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 7:18 AM UTC
Away up the top in Australia
Simply days drive from anywhere at all~
We were camped on the side of a river bank
Not far from a wet season water fall~
Running outa food to some extent
I assured them we were fine~
That I as camp cook had enough to last us
And tonight as usual we were gonna dine~
We were up there on a top end fishing trip
And Id been up there before~
Where the best fish were only caught
In the land that I adore~
One bloke had a friend with him
Who was a city well fed chum~
And he kept boasting how his wife could cook
As he sat swigging on the last of his ***
I knew they were going up stream for the day
To fish and do some prospecting up the way~
And I told them tonight a real Irish stew
And he replied that sounds real good ay~
He said no way I can eat that bush tucker
I gotta have whats proper and comes from shops~
I don't eat that out back wild bush Tucker stuff
It ll never pass through my chops~
But Irish stew yes that ll do
It sounds real good ta me~
When we get back from up the track
I ll have my share you wait an see~
So they left in one direction
And I left in the other~
Hoping the thick bushland would act as
To my rifle shots a cover~
I shot a Roo and a Goanna
A Bandicoot and one wild cat~
And then I shot a large parrot
Got a young croc in the water and headed back~
A little ways from the camp
I used a fallen log as a butchers block~
And then I got this big bucket full
Of meaty bits right to the top~
The fire now lit and big cooking *** half full
I went on a wild herb search~
And when down by the river again
I got my self a pool trapped perch~
Added it as well to the stew
With bush herbs and thickened with some flour~
And I can tell in awhile it smelt so good
When they d be due back in about an hour~
Had honey Id robbed from a distant hive
So I made a patty cake or two~
With what flour I had left
Yep .... That ll surely do~
Well when they got back the aroma drifted
And they picked it up down the track~
And couldn't wait to eat the lot
And complimented the cook for the snack~
The city bloke that did all the complaining
About running out of food~
Said he was sorry that he went on a bit
And didn't mean to be at all rude~
He said Id have died if I had to eat bush Tucker
And believe me it is true~
In all my life .. including the wife
Never tasted a better Irish stew~
Terrence Michael Sutton
copyright ( 1970 ) .....2018
May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 6:58 PM UTC
a peaceful mood is within the country's chair
rain drops falling dispersing their fare
the bushland no more in despair
a quenching drink on soils bare
terrain out of dry lair
getting a wet share
lands now repair
moist the care
goodly
air
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 8:56 PM UTC
the hot tongues of fire
lapped
at the ****** bushland
May 4, 2013
May 4, 2013 at 9:17 PM UTC
the elongated shadows of eve
across timbered paddocks were cast
a last remnant of sunlight
pierced through unto the grass
sparkling star light ensued
at the seventh hour of night
the bushland heavens adorned
in a display of mesmeric delight
dawn's breaking sun came to the fore
it shone on the homestead's verandah
with dazzling beams by the score
enchanting twas its extravaganza
tis a wonder of nature
observing the changing moods
of day to night
doth bring to the eye
such breathtaking sights
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 11:49 PM UTC
dusk descends upon the Oz landscape
the sun slowly reclines westward
cattle and sheep make for nightly camps
the faint sounds of birds are heard
gum trees cast last shadows
o'er the land a hush
it's settling time
day closes
then to
night
''''''''''''''''
stars
aplenty
fill the sky
the scent of earth
flows on the soft breeze
so calming the night hours
the country is serene and still
how fortunate we are to live here
in a place which is like paradise
as the moon sails across the bushland skies
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 9:37 PM UTC
beside the slow flowing bushland creek
lay the body of a stock man who's build twas sleek
his remains were not found in eighteen ninety two
though a search for him did for days ensue
the mount he twas riding had been given a scare
by something that moved in the prickly pear
a heavy fall he took to the hardened soil
where his head bled in a torrential scarlet coil
on the sixteenth of May in nineteen eighty three
a bush walker stumbled upon the stock man's body
he found a tobacco tin in the creeks silted dirt
along with the remnants of his trousers and shirt
for years his family had waited to hear good news
that he'd been discovered within the bush land's muse
but of his passing they were told at a later date
a brown snake moving in the prickly pear sealed his fate
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 2:57 AM UTC
the hot tongues of fire
lapped at the ****** bushland
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 8:16 PM UTC
They’ve come early this year,
before the start of summer.
Hot dry days
for hot dry weeks
leave bush and grasslands
tinder dry -
at flashpoint.
A faulty vehicle exhaust?
A stray piece of broken glass?
A smouldering cigarette ****
An arsonist or pyromaniac?
A lightning strike in a dry thunderstorm?
A forgotten electrical connection?
So many ways to start a bushfire.
A spark
becomes a flame
becomes a fire
becomes a bushfire
becomes a holocaust.
Homes,
businesses,
infrastructure,
livestock,
pets,
human lives,
whole townships,
our precious bushland,
our wildlife and flora,
endangered species …
all at risk -
all under threat.
And yet,
human spirit prevails.
Communities unite in mutual support.
Firefighters - many as volunteers -
sacrifice home comforts, families and income
for days on end.
Others provide food, safe havens,
funds and resources.
Under threat we hold together
and so we survive.
Hot dry days
for hot dry weeks
leave bush and grasslands
tinder dry -
at flashpoint.
Summer is still young.
The worst is yet to come.
We must survive.
Jan 8, 2020
Jan 8, 2020 at 11:26 PM UTC
A raging fire,
the bushland's lost.
Caused by a match
Carelessly tossed.
The animal's escaped,
with lots of woes.
But later caught
and put in zoo's.
Lost their freedom
to my dismay.
The predator yesterday
is the prey today.
We put make-up
and put on shoes,
nothing to do but
laugh at their blues.
Who's to be blamed
not me,not you.
Just a burning match
can **** you too.
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 6:01 AM UTC
They bulldozed the bushland and put up a concrete building
They moved the bushland into the building so the building would look more inviting
I went to find the bushland because it's my favourite place to write
Only to find a building in which I was not allowed inside
Dec 18, 2020
Dec 18, 2020 at 10:27 AM UTC
the sun's shining beams
did burnish the bushland stream
in a glossy gleam
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 6:44 PM UTC