General Chat

The Never - Never Land ..... Henry Lawson By hut, homestead, and shearing-shed, By railroad, coach and track- By lonely graves where rest our dead, Up-Country and Out-Back: To where beneath the clustered stars The dreamy plains expand - My home lies wide a thousand miles In the Never Never Land. It lies beyond the farming belt, Wide wastes of scrub and plain, A blazing desert in the drought, A lake-land after rain; To the skyline sweeps the waving grass, Or whirls the scorching sand - A phantom land, a mystic realm! The Never Never Land. Where lone Mount Desolation lies, Mounts Dreadful and Despair- 'Tis lost beneath the rainless skies In hopeless deserts there; It spreads nor'-west by No-Man's Land - Where clouds are seldom seen - To where the cattle-stations lie Three hundred miles between. The drovers of the Great Stock Routes The strange Gulf country know - Where, travelling from the southern droughts, The big lean bullocks go; And camped by night where plains lie wide, Like some old ocean's bed, The watchmen in the starlight ride Round fifteen hundred head. Lest in the city I forget True mateship after all, My water-bag and billy yet Are hanging on the wall; And I, to save my soul again, Would tramp to sunsets grand With sad-eyed mates across the plain In the Never Never Land. Tony Oz..:>))

Thanks Jeff It’s a tad different from the doggerel I usually write and share on here, but it helped me sort my mind out this morning writing it Dee x

Very moving words Dee Thank you Jeff xx

I sat and wrote this verse this morning Here I sit behind closed doors Looking at these same four walls The sun may shine, but I feel blue Whatever am I going to do? That face is there each time I sleep It makes me want to sit and weep Those last few minutes etched on my mind I wish I could leave it all behind Her family mourn and miss her so Yet it’s me who can’t let the image go The paramedics were really good They did their best: we knew they would But before they went we just knew Her time on earth was surely through The days will pass, so will the pain And peace and love we will regain But in the meantime I sit and stare At four walls from my easy chair My will is broken, my heart is sad When memories they should make me glad

I've just took down the poet's pot And I've put on the lid, I hoped you'd try and fill it up But not many of you did. I really couldn't fill it up With things I've wrote myself, So now it seems it will just lie Forgotten on the shelf. I know I'll have to take the pot From off the shelf each day, But only just to wash it off And keep the dust at bay. Jeff

Carol Thank you so much for your poems, they are lovely. Keep 'em coming gel Lol Jeff xx

Ancestors........... a poem The special book upon the shelf was made with many hands Our ancestors who posed back then all came from different lands Their pictures were all tucked away and rarely did we see The importance of these treasures is the start of you and me The history of our families now here in black and white Preserved with special care and time each page is done just right When time permits, we take it down and think of days long past. Our hopes, our dreams, our heritage all safe and made to last. Life is a scrapbook, torn and old In which our little lives are told, And when the twilight shadows fall this is the sweetest thing of all; To turn the pages of the years, remembering with happy tears The faithful love, the perfect friend... these things are treasured to the end.

I'll never be alone. I haven't ever seen you but I know you're really there I click you into reality like magic from the air. Your voice is like an Angel though I really do not hear your hug as warm as any of loved ones I hold dear. You're always there for comfort or a simple word of cheer though you're very far away I always have you near. You're a very special friend like none I've ever known as long as you're in cyberspace I'll never be alone

OUR CAGE. I let my budgie out one day To let it have a fly, It flapped it's wings and then took off As though 't'were in the sky; It fluttered round the kitchen there As though in some wild rage, But after it had had enough It flew back to it's cage. Well then I started thinking Of this sight that I'd just seen, It brought me back some memories Of places I had been; Man has to leave his home each day To earn himself a wage, But then when he has done his toil He flies back to his cage. There's those who travel far and wide Throughout the long long year They flit round the old whirlygig For reasons they hold dear; Now what their job in life may be, Whether it be clown or sage, They do just what they have to do Then fly back to their cage. We've even rockets nowadays That take men up in space, There's those who've been up to the moon That cold and lonely place, And though their flight moved this old world Into another age, They had to come back down to reach The safety of their cage. For Earth is like a roosting place Where every man must perch, There's some who soar high up in it, There's some left in the lurch; But it means nought what man may be Whether he be prince or page, For rich or poor they both end up Locked in the same dark cage. Well now to end my little tale I'll leave you with this thought, It seems we're living through an age Where some folks care for nought; And if we do not want a world Where trouble lords about, Then we must strive to make it stop And get our cage cleaned out. Jeff

Cheers Tony, love the christening poem, keep 'em coming mate. I hope there are some more on here Who'll show the same devotion, Because to fill our poet's pot We need poetry in motion..

One of my Favourites A Bush Christening......A.B ( Banjo ) Patterson On the outer Barcoo where the churches are few, And men of religion are scanty, On a road never cross'd 'cept by folk that are lost, One Michael Magee had a shanty. Now this Mike was the dad of a ten-year-old lad, Plump, healthy, and stoutly conditioned; He was strong as the best, but poor Mike had no rest For the youngster had never been christened. And his wife used to cry, 'If the darlin' should die Saint Peter would not recognize him.' But by luck he survived till a preacher arrived, Who agreed straightaway to baptize him. Now the artful young rogue, while they held their collogue, With his ear to the keyhole was listenin'; And he muttered in fright, while his features turned white, 'What the divil and all is this christenin'?' He was none of your dolts -- He had seen them brand colts, And it seemed to his small understanding, If the man in the frock made him one of the flock, It must mean something very like branding. So away with a rush he set off for the bush, While the tears in his eyelids they glistened -- ''Tis outrageous,' says he, 'to brand youngsters like me; I'll be dashed if I'll stop to be christened!' Like a young native dog he ran into a log, And his father with language uncivil, Never heeding the 'praste', cried aloud in his haste 'Come out and be christened, you divil!' But he lay there as snug as a bug in a rug, And his parents in vain might reprove him, Till his reverence spoke (he was fond of a joke) 'I've a notion,' says he, 'that'll move him. 'Poke a stick up the log, give the spalpeen a prog; Poke him aisy -- don't hurt him or maim him; 'Tis not long that he'll stand, I've the water at hand, As he rushes out this end I'll name him. 'Here he comes, and for shame, ye've forgotten the name - Is it Patsy or Michael or Dinnis?' Here the youngster ran out, and the priest gave a shout -- 'Take your chance, anyhow, wid `Maginnis'!' As the howling young cub ran away to the scrub Where he knew that pursuit would be risky, The priest, as he fled, flung a flask at his head That was labelled 'Maginnis's Whisky'! Now Maginnis Magee has been made a J.P., And the one thing he hates more than sin is To be asked by the folk, who have heard of the joke, How he came to be christened Maginnis! Tony Oz..:>))

Jennifer, There is nothing corny about putting your true feelings into print. Jeff xx

I'm often feeling down, so I often look around for a pick me up thats quick, that is why GR board I pick. You are all such lovely folk, and like to share a joke, but also there for me when I am low so please folk, stay do not go. corney or what-I know.

PERSEVERE. Brother ! choose the path of duty, Keep that path and have no fear ; Life will show thee all its beauty If thou wilt but persevere. When dark clouds are hanging o'er thee And thy way seems dim and drear, Think of Heaven that lies before thee Strive for that, and persevere. Grieve not, though thy lot be lowly And thou toilest year by year ; Christ's own toil made labour holy, Do thy best and persevere. Be thou Statesman, Artist, Poet, Hold thy own vocation dear ; Thou hast genious ! Toil will show it, Help thy brethren, persevere. God has given all his creatures Duties, loving, true, and clear, Every state has noble features, Choose thy own, and persevere. Make each day in life a witness, Spreading tidings far and near Of the glory and the fitness Of the watchword - Persevere. George Hull.

Nudge June ..

So many gods, so many creeds, So many paths that wind and wind, While just the art of being kind, Is all the sad world needs. Ella Wheeler Wilcox.

Thank you Suz for that little gem, I hope you'll keep on sending them, There's plenty room left in the pot So keep that pen of yours red hot. Jeff xx

Rocking Chair. Echoes the memories of tears once shed, Old lady through silent waters led, She rocks in the stillness, her youth ,unheard laughter,deaf! she sits in the dark to cry, this forgotten face ,too old to dry,time passes,like love passes,by! Too old,silent waters,tears to cry, tired heart,alone tonight,left behind. Rocking chair,her souvenier of life, grief,loss of friends,arthritic side, her pain is much,its there--- but nothing like the echoes in her rocking chair. Moulded to its back,wooden and worn the tapestry flap. Alas! she alone controls the picture shows, as she sits in the freezing winter cold. Empty within,without those little cries, photos of the lost ,her child. Gone,she smiles,rocking chair,and laughs she ,at love with such despair. And friends,the voices,everyones gone! Rocking chair,I believe you creak at the memories you keep!

Keep them coming Tony, mate Your little stories, they are great. I hope there'll be some more like you Who'll post a little verse or two. Jeff

Tony from Oz - brilliant made me smile:o) jude sarf wales