Wednesday, December 7, 2011

A Fond Farewell

I am the greatest puddle chaser that’s ever lived in Tas,
Because of the attitude and all the courage that I has,
There’s not a bunny rabbit nor a possum can outrun,
This demon of the speedsters when the race has fair begun,
I’ll find them in the mulga an’ in the scrub I’ll search,
So that none of them can ever my goodly name besmirch.

Kevin, who comes here with me is forever on the look,
To make sure I do not vanish into a scrubby nook,
But I am well ahead of him an’ he knows it to be true,
For if I were to scarper there’d be a flamin’ blue.
So I’ll do me level best to scare the things away,
And carry on a walkin’ as we do so every day.

The plan is woeful easy for a dog like me to know,
We rise at six and thirty an’ make ready for the go,
We’ll head off, perhaps in his little four-wheel drive,
Or track across the paddock when the sheep will take a dive,
To let us pass unhindered and them in peace to be,
While him and me with careful eye take in all we can see.

Sometimes we venture far afield o’er hills an’ valleys green,
Sometimes we visit places that the day before we have been,
But together we are travelling like mates so often do,
A ponderin’ on the world an’ solvin’ problems new,
We work at it while marchin’ him callin’ out to me,
‘Clancy boy, where are you now, come on oh can’t you see.

It’s time for heading back and you cannot hide like that,
It’s not the world you’re looking for it’s some silly wally’s scat.
Come on you pup, you renegade, you’re a devil on four legs,
Don’t have me chase in after you it’ll be the bleeding dregs.’
So out I come as nice as pie not wishin’ for a blue,
Nor have ‘im in an apoplexy, an’ then me day to rue.

We settle down and step sedate the way back that we came,
I’ve had me fun he’s had his walk it’s really just a game,
And other things of great import are waiting to be done,
There’s jobs a plenty at the homestead it’s time they were begun,
Some folks have come to say hello an’ brought with them a dog,
I can see we’ll make it fine me an’ him as solid as a log.

We’ll share the home but not me bed nor grub I’ll give to him,
I’m keen to please an’ welcome them you know I am not dim,
But the very greatest joy I have is when I see them leave,
With throwing stick I dance about a twirling an’ a heave,
Into the air and down again I catch it in me gob,
To help them on their way I’ve learned this handy job.

It works you know for soon they’re gone with smiles and waves galore,
Leavin’ me to do me work an’ tally up the score,
But now me days are shortening an’ grindin’ to a close,
I can see round one last bend the end is comin’ I suppose,
It’s been fine to share the joys and the love they gave to me,
With him and her we were a team a team you’d rarely see.

I’ll tell you this an’ listen well for I have a bit to say,
Me time with you has just been great in each an’ every way,
I’ve done more things than any dog an’ that’s the truth to tell,
I’ve done ‘em good I’ve done ‘em smart I’ve done ‘em bloody well,
And now I’m for a well earned rest to cool me heels I’d say,
So long, adieu, farewell dear mate I knows I’m on me way.

Don’t fret old chum it aint too bad this is the way it has to be,
We all come here an’ have to go there is no other way you see,
You know dear Kev, I’d be a burden if I had to hang around,
I’ll go real quiet I promise mate without a single sound.
So say goodbye an’ have a grin, go on smile for me ,please do,
‘Cause when it comes to be your turn, I’ll do the same for you.


From Clancy, for me best mate, Kevin.
Transcribed very carefully by Adrian. 30th July, 2011.

Thursday, July 7, 2011

Back to work - hopefully

After such a long absence I think that our blog might have found a new lease of life - hopfully. I have been e-mailing Bill Guy in South Australia to see if he might have a go and deposit a few verses for our enjoyment. Other than that, if anyone else can muster the courage, interest or enthusiasm to throw in a poem or two, that would be appreciated.

I had thought that the Blog might have been discontinued by Google. Thankfully it was there when I sought to put on my effort for St Columba Day. Well that's it for now. I do look forward to seeing something new very soon.

Thank you everyone.

Adrian.

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Ode to Saint Columba

We are here today to sing the praise
Of a daring Irishman who set his world ablaze
By sailing far from old Eire’s shore
To convert the pagans by the score

He took to the sea without much care
And with his mates did keenly dare
To forage in a new land where he wished to be
Spreading God’s blessing for all to see

But word of this great man’s new deeds
Without much effort him precedes
To far off lands where now he’s known
And where over time his fame has grown

Columcill he was called when just a boy
But changed his name in a cunning ploy
And as Columba he’ll be widely known
For that’s the name this priest does own

And in Tassie there’s a waterfall where you can go
That bears his name for all to know
So get you there and have a look
At the might work nature undertook

So every time you see this sight
Be it a gentle flow or in its might
Just think of that great Saint beyond
Who did not from his Scottish isle abscond

And sail across the world to view
Those falls, that have been named anew
For if he had, the truth be known
The Aborigines might have turned to stone

When they saw that man all dressed in green
As an Irish priest would have surely been
He’d call to them, in Gaelic broad
But he could not strike a willing cord

For they would know, he was here to stay
To spread the gospel each and every day
While in the waters that now bear his name
He’d wash them for the Christian game

And turn them from their own belief
And steal their culture like a thief
Before he would quietly slip away
To collect his sainthood as a worthy pay

Well now my story is at an end
Has it sent you round the flipping bend
But truth to tell, it’s easy just to say
Saint Columba’d wish you well this happy day

Thursday, August 12, 2010

ExStanza is having a break - sort of!

Hello everyone,

As all can see who read this Blog, precious little has been posted to it since April this year. That is because we have pulled the blinds down for a while to let some of our members do other things.

Do not be disheartned, I am sure that we will be back as good as new in the not too distant future. In the meantime, the Blog is available for any and all our members to post a poem. The fact that we will not be gathering to share it in person ought not matter. The important thing is to keep on writing poetry. Allowing your work to be read by all is a benefit to both the writer and reader.

My recommendation is, therefore, get with it and compose so that we might be able to share your words and thoughts.

Adrian.

Sunday, April 25, 2010

Kym's Limericks

1.
There once was a man named Adrian
Who was Irish and not a Bavarian
Twelve limericks he asked
I tended to gasp!
A task not very Herculean.

2.
There once was a poem called the limerick
A ribald verse written as a gimmick
Popularised by Lear
1846 was the year
Now that we know we can give this ditty the flick!

3.
The grey nomads are on their adventure
Before the onset of dementia
A group of girls were all talking-
They've gone off a-walking
So my limerick is read in absentia.

4.
There once was a lass turning fifty
Who pulled off a most marvellous swifty
She got back to her roots
By walking in boots
And declared that this was really quite nifty!

5.
A great group of friends once gathered
For Easter, nothing else mattered
The fish it was ling
Such a beautiful thing
A feast where the taste buds all lathered.
Kym Matthews.

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Limericks by AK

1

There was a young boy from Rinanna
Who was sent out to buy a banana
He could only find sticks
So went off to the flicks and when
He got home told a bunch of lies to his mamma.

2

There was an old man from New Jersey
Who wanted to swim ‘cross the Mersey
He took a high dive in the water
But then thought that he oughta
Get a boat to the Island of Gurnsey.

3

There once was a fat dancer from All Hallows
Who did her steps in the shallows
She was seen by the queen who
Let forth with her spleen
And sent her quite quick to the gallows.

4

There was a young man from the city
Who often thought it a pity
To ride on a bus
Without making a fuss
Of the folk who keep it so pretty.

5

There was a young maid from Galfairy
Who worked every day in a dairy
She milked all the cows
With the help of some Fraus
And gave the ice cream to sweet Mary.

6

There was a young man from Bombay
Who travelled to Rome in a quick way
He crossed all the mountains and lakes
With every short cut that it takes
To see why it was not built in a day.

7

I would dearly like to compose
A great work of poetry or prose.
I sit long into the night
But am quite unable to write
So it will never be done, I suppose.

8

The trees are all green with deep shade,
The ideal resting place for a young maid
Who wants to know more
Of the forest’s greats lore
And how on earth to get laid.

9

To save Tasmania’s old trees,
And bring that horrid Gunns to its knees,
We will do it with honesty by voting,
Which will put a stop to their rorting,
Because deep down we are Greens

10

A Limerick it takes ten seconds to read,
With some doing it less if at speed,
Now I have asked you for twelve,
So into the format you’ll delve,
And hopefully that’s all we will need.

11

There’s a wonderful group called ExStanza,
Whose main aim in life is to organza,
A verse that might rhyme,
If given the time,
Then the members will have a bonanza.

12

Now Jan runs a local book group,
Once a month they discuss in their coupe,
All the stories they choose,
With the talk that accrues,
Makes this a most formidable troupe.

13

Ian Matthews rides a bright red machine,
Around the streets of St Helens so keen,
Each day he’ll prevail,
To deliver the mail,
On the nippiest motorcycle to be seen.

Monday, March 22, 2010

Myths and Legends

History's pages are littered with legends
They come from land and sea
Their feats achieved from the much maligned
Or fearless gallantry.

Sailors huddled together
Taking comfort from the fire
Reading Greek classics
And absorbing mythological tales -
Of Jason and The Argonauts
Plying different dimensions
Homeric proportions.
Camping beneath canvas -
The sails of their sailing ship
In a quiet cove of water
Beyond the reach of the gale.

A warrior chief watches from afar
As these pale spirits enter his realm.
He meant to save his people
By meeting with their charge
Only to meet a tragic fate
Far away from his sacred land.

Few of their names are here
Though a little seeking will reveal
Their mark has left its trace.
A solitary rock to Kunnanara Kuna -
A memorial in place.

Hesitantly a township grew
Around that gentle bay
Emerging into a brave new world
With nomenclature intact.
There is Medea Cove
Along with Homer and Jason Streets
Argonaut can be found-
The sailors' stories and histories
Etched upon the landscape.

Myths and legends can blur and blind
One a tale of imagination
Explaining away the cause of our being
In a dreamtime beyond all knowing.
The other a thing to be read
Known and studied -
A collection of lives traditionally told
To further our own morality.

Me, I prefer another definition
Recounted by a modern Scottish bard
Legend is rumour plus time
That will do me fine.


Kym Matthews
6th February 2010