Cunningham's Gap
As I came over Cunningham's Gap
a skin of time peeled off the map
The fern's green ocean overflowed
the hard black surface of the road
and lapped the wheel rims of the dray
and the sweating bullocks where they lay,
and washed the car out of today.
A cloud of cockatoos, snow on the hill
shrieked out of distance and were still.
Cedar, sassafras, bunya pine,
stinging nettle and lawyer-vine
baffled my passage and blocked my sight
as I swarmed the hummocks and climbed the height.
But long months' labour through wood and waste
dropped from my bones as I gazed at last.
round to round, to the rim of the sun,
on a world of richness not yet won;
broad fat pastures and rolling downs,
Wheat fields and Orchards, farms and towns,
ghosts of the future surged at the gate
of time and being and would not wait.
As I shouted in triumph, the Darling Downs
leapt into life with farms and towns;
Wheat field and orchards, flocks and herds,
grass to the bellies, woke at my words.
the cloud of cockatoos, snow on the hill,
shrieked out of distance and were still,
and the skin of time crept over the map
as I started my car in Cunningham's Gap.
poem by Henry Mackenzie Green
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Black Sea
In the term of office we call the presents of festivals,
The black sea is offended by the great sea,
As of this moment it is angered from above,
It is the black problem we are against.
Fulfilling satisfaction has taken a nuisance
By telling tales of the black ocean with its blue,
And we more than one know swimmers of scent
And merciful are the boats on the surface.
The blood is tidy, we are intelligent,
As much as gold mixed with diamond,
Like the black ocean and blue sea,
As hard as the concrete of shelter.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song of the Old Bullock-Driver
Far back in the days when the blacks used to ramble
In long single file ’neath the evergreen tree,
The wool-teams in season came down from Coonamble,
And journeyed for weeks on their way to the sea,
’Twas then that our hearts and our sinews were stronger,
For those were the days when the bushman was bred.
We journeyed on roads that were rougher and longer
Than roads where the feet of our grandchildren tread.
With mates who have gone to the great Never-Never,
And mates whom I’ve not seen for many a day,
I camped on the banks of the Cudgegong River
And yarned at the fire by the old bullock-dray.
I would summon them back from the far Riverina,
From days that shall be from all others distinct,
And sing to the sound of an old concertina
Their rugged old songs where strange fancies were linked.
We never were lonely, for, camping together,
We yarned and we smoked the long evenings away,
And little I cared for the signs of the weather
When snug in my hammock slung under the dray.
We rose with the dawn, were it ever so chilly,
When yokes and tarpaulins were covered with frost,
And toasted the bacon and boiled the black billy,
Where high on the camp-fire the branches were tossed.
On flats where the air was suggestive of ’possums,
And homesteads and fences were hinting of change,
We saw the faint glimmer of appletree blossoms
And far in the distance the blue of the range;
And here in the rain, there was small use in flogging
The poor, tortured bullocks that tugged at the load,
When down to the axles the waggons were bogging
And traffic was making a marsh of the road.
’Twas hard on the beasts on the terrible pinches,
Where two teams of bullocks were yoked to a load,
And tugging and slipping, and moving by inches,
Half-way to the summit they clung to the road.
And then, when the last of the pinches was bested,
(You’ll surely not say that a glass was a sin?)
The bullocks lay down ’neath the gum trees and rested —
The bullockies steered for the bar of the inn.
Then slowly we crawled by the trees that kept tally
Of miles that were passed on the long journey down.
We saw the wild beauty of Capertee Valley,
As slowly we rounded the base of the Crown.
But, ah! the poor bullocks were cruelly goaded
While climbing the hills from the flats and the vales;
’Twas here that the teams were so often unloaded
That all knew the meaning of ‘counting your bales.’
And, oh! but the best-paying load that I carried
Was one to the run where my sweetheart was nurse.
We courted awhile, and agreed to get married,
And couple our futures for better or worse.
And as my old feet grew too weary to drag on
The miles of rough metal they met by the way,
My eldest grew up and I gave him the waggon —
He’s plodding along by the bullocks to-day.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Flowers of the Sea
Tasting the pleasures
Of the ocean currents,
I find pearls
Black and white,
All different to my eyes.
Back and forth
The flowers of the sea,
Totally different.
Giving hidden meanings.
Back and forth
The flowers of the sea,
Totally different.
Always coming new
Giving each their pleasure,
With the blooming shades
Of the watchful sea,
Colors like the rainbow.
Back and forth
The flowers of the sea,
Totally different.
Billows wide and blue
Splitting into dark,
Crossing every surface
Under the ocean,
Under the green blue ocean.
Back and forth
The flowers of the sea,
Totally different.
Mermaids on the rocks,
Sea monsters in the dark,
Knowing every coast,
Swimming to every sea.
Billows wide and blue
Splitting into dark,
Crossing every surface
Under the ocean,
Under the green blue ocean.
poem by Peter S. Quinn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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White Skin Black Heart
Yeah, whatcha gonna do now, now that you started?
Whatcha gonna do now, now that its done?
The words got out there, they float around and are coming right back down.
You gonna leave us lying here
Dealing with the consequences of a bad sound
Of a bad sound.
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
Whatcha gonna do now, that its spoken?
These words of a habit, have not faded away.
.................... it clear, conscious gets opened like a wound.
If you cant concieve a better line and better times,
Then let silence bury you, in the end.
When you feel it, when you feel it
Youre condemned.
You see, youve lost your strangle on the freedom road! you
Think ........................of something a long time ago! you
[spewed it out you were so] insecure! it was like ............. on
The toilet floor! youre a [nine seat] drunk, ............... and
You say you want something, .......... you heard the rednecks
Roaring for blood and then they wanted more! life was so small, you
Couldnt get enough. you made a start.
White skin black heart
Dripping,
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
Drag your eyes from [aurora] black heart!
White skin black heart
Drag your leg, get outta here [my sight]!
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
You didnt have to start
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
song performed by by Midnight Oil
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Another Shoulder At The Wheel
(gary burr/john jarrard)
There are times when the winds blow every word I cry back again
And it gets hard, hard as I try to find the strength to even survive
But when Ive done all I can do
I can always turn to you
Another shoulder at the wheel to see me through
When the road is long, and the tears are real
When Im past the poin of giving up
Theres nothing like the feel of another shoulder at the wheel
In my path theres stones I could never roll away alone
There are times when I wake and my knees will tremble and shake
But theres someone who cares
And when I need you, youll be there
Another shoulder at the wheel to see me through
When the road is long, and the tears are real
When Im past the poin of giving up
Theres nothing like the feel of another shoulder at the wheel
Another shoulder at the wheel to see me through
When the road is long, and the tears are real
When Im past the poin of giving up
Theres nothing like the feel of another shoulder at the wheel
Oh another shoulder at the wheel
song performed by by Jo Dee Messina
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The River And The Road
THE merrymaking's over
The riverside is still,
The Sun, a radiant rover,
Gone down behind the hill.
The red Road goes awinding
Along the riverside;
The River, no man minding,
Winds on to meet the tide.
O Naiad of green places!
I pray you pause and say
How many pretty faces
Looked down on you to-day?
The River runs in silence
(A fern-frond is her load);
Just here and just a mile hence
She curves to kiss the road.
And now the kiss is over,
And now the tryst is done,
By flats of fern and clover
The River ripples on.
Again the Road turns to her,
Red-winding through the green;
The Road would pause and woo her,
But gray rocks stand between.
And here he rounds a boulder
And hurries to her side:
The River turns her shoulder;
She will not be his bride.
O fickle River, straying
Through green lands on and on,
A fern-tree heard you saying
'The Road will come anon.'
Not so, but you will waken
To lonely days and sore.
The Road a vow has taken
To play Love's fool no more.
On high the sunset lingers
With one still star above,
And there the merry singers
Sing silverly of Love.
And now in distance dewy
They halt awhile, and so
Wave hands with 'Coo-ee, Coo-ee!'
Ho, laggard down below!'
If she should cease to worry
And say, 'I love but you' —
'O hurry, hurry, hurry!'
And 'Adieu, Adieu, Adieu!'
This one last chance I give her
To lighten my heart's load,
And if she play the River
Then I shall prove the Road.
I caught her, heard her sighing,
And felt the moment's charm. . . .
'Tis sweet when day is dying
To walk so, arm in arm!
poem by Roderic Quinn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tsholofelo, My Hope (A tribute to the Asian & African women I have lived with)
How shall I paint your portrait?
In purple, in black, in green...
Passionate and romantic...
Dancing a woman's tango.
Tsholofelo, I see you
primed in blue maid's uniform
serving hot coffee or tea
in locked executive rooms.
in construction work: digging;
chipping boulder's; sweating black;
climbing, laying hollow blocks;
looking sturdy; undaunted.
How shall I paint your bright hope?
In your womb, a child so dear;
Trapped in a world so unfair
Where diamonds are not rare.
How shall I paint your portrait?
Purple with your bleeding heart;
Black with your skin so unspoiled;
Green with your unfailing hope.
poem by Remedios Nalundasan-Abijan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Long Journey Home (Anthem) (feat. Anna)
(composed: elvis costello/paddy moloney)
If on every ocean the ship is a throne
And for each mast cut down another sapling is grown
Then I could believe that Im bound to find
A better life than I left behind
But as you ascend the ladder
Look out below where you tread
For the colors bled as they overflowed
Red, white and blue
Green, white and gold
So I had to leave from my country of birth
As for each child grown tall
Another lies in the earth
And for every rail we laid in the loam
Theres a thousand miles of the long journey home
But as you ascend the ladder
Look out below where you tread
For the colors bled as they overflowed
Red, white and blue
Green, white and gold
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Long Journey Home
(composed: elvis costello/paddy moloney)
If on every ocean the ship is a throne
And for each mast cut down another sapling is grown
Then I could believe that Im bound to find
A better life than I left behind
But as you ascend the ladder
Look out below where you tread
For the colors bled as they overflowed
Red, white and blue
Green, white and gold
So I had to leave from my country of birth
As for each child grown tall
Another lies in the earth
And for every rail we laid in the loam
Theres a thousand miles of the long journey home
But as you ascend the ladder
Look out below where you tread
For the colors bled as they overflowed
Red, white and blue
Green, white and gold
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Distort
diluted intoxication,
elixar of yours that
candy coats my throat,
provides disorient
dizziness of illusions
in this motled Kaleidoscopic
dream
that bursts at the seams
with
verbosity.
not verbosity..
simplicity in a complex skin
that revels in sticky black
reels of string gone twine
that is noose to your mind.
it burns and bubbles to the
surface,
oil slicked brimstone,
lapped and spewed
by probing finger tips.
moving sickness.
.hit.
.the ceiling.
.hit.
.the floor.
.hit.
.the fan.
awaken raw
poem by Amber Luna
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bolton
Black skin,
Black eye,
Black hair,
Black lips,
Black tail! !
A small one,
A long one,
With the blue of the sky and,
The green of the grass!
And within time and patience,
And like the elephants at the seaside;
But, Bolton is here to teach you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hard Road
(h. vanda / g. young)
My mama n papa told me son that youre just a fool
When I told em I was leaving home I was leaving school
So then in a couple of hours I found myself
Heading down that southbound road
With everything I owned on my back
I carried such a heavy load
And its a hard, hard road that I travel
Its a hard, hard road that I travel
Its a hard, hard road that I travel down the line
And its a hard, hard road down the line
Well I wanna tell ya friends
That its good to be a traveling man
cause Im doing what I want to
Living just the best that I can
Nobody putting rings around my neck
To put me in a pigeon hole
Ive got my dog and my radio
To listen to some rock n roll
And its a hard, hard road that I travel
Its a hard, hard road that I travel
Its a hard, hard road that I travel down the line
And its a hard, hard road down the line
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Old Bullock Dray
Oh! the shearing is all over,
And the wool is coming down,
And I mean to get a wife, boys,
When I go up to town.
Everything that has two legs
Represents itself in view,
From the little paddy-melon
To the bucking kangaroo.
So it's roll up your blankets,
And let's make a push,
I'll take you up the country,
And show you the bush.
I'll be bound you won't get
Such a chance another day,
So come and take possession
Of my old bullock dray.
Now, I've saved up a good cheque,
I mean to buy a team,
And when I get a wife, boys,
I'll be all-serene
For calling at the depôt.
They say there's no delay
To get an off-sider
For the old bullock dray.
Oh! we'll live like fighting cocks,
For good living, I'm your man.
We'll have leather jacks, johnny cakes,
And fritters in the pan;
Or if you'd like some fish
I'll catch you some soon,
For we'll bob for barramundies
Round the banks of a lagoon.
Oh! yes, of beef and damper
I take care we have enough,
And we'll boil in the bucket
Such a whopper of a duff,
And our friends will dance
To the honour of the day,
To the music of the bells,
Around the old bullock dray.
Oh! we'll have plenty girls,
We must mind that.
There'll be flash little Maggie,
And buckjumping Pat.
There'll be Stringy bark Joe,
And Green-hide Mike.
Yes, my Colonials, just
As many as you like.
Now we'll stop all immigration,
We won't need it any more;
We'll be having young natives,
Twins by the score.
And I wonder what the devil
Jack Robertson would say
If he saw us promenading
Round the old bullock dray.
Oh! it's time I had an answer,
If there's one to be had,
I wouldn't treat that steer
In the body half as bad;
But he takes as much notice
Of me, upon my soul,
As that old blue stag
Off-side in the pole.
Oh! to tell a lot of lies,
You know, it is a sin,
But I'll go up country
And marry a black gin.
Oh! "Baal gammon white feller,"
This is what she'll say,
"Budgery you
And your old bullock dray."
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What to Wear
Skin-close, stretched crimson,
to be gently peeled above my head,
with delicate finger quiver
down over exposed skin,
bumps spike with surge of endorphin,
trembles puctuate each cell,
your hand moves soft
over the heated swell.
Or black crepe, torn violent
to its shredded end,
rip-break of fabric,
no cloth spared, flung aside
with slap and throw,
a bomb onto the sheets,
rapid pulse-pump on the creases.
What choice relieves a passion's howl,
the red dress or the black?
poem by Sonja Broderick
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Don't Talk Back
Well it's half my heart and a little bit of soul
That makes me feel I've gotta ride this road
I wouldn't change it if I could
And me and this road you
You know we've got an understanding
It won't leave me at home and I am
Too tired to do just what I should
And last night I asked if I could
Take comfort in the rosewood
The road said nothing at all
Well cos it don't talk back unless the wind blows hard
I drive it all night with the wheel of my car
It won't leave me running for the door
And if the paints still wet I can just slow down
And it all goes away on the other side of town
And nothing is that easy anymore
Well the hurt won't leave with the sight of white line
But it eases up my pain for a while
The only habit that I keep
And miles take time but the time is mine
And always moving suits me fine
I'll catch my breath when I sleep
And after all that I've done
I'm not half what I'd hope that I'd become
There's still along way to go
Well cos it don't talk back unless the wind blows hard
I drive it all night with the wheel of my car
It won't leave me running for the door
And if the paints still wet I can just slow down
And it all goes away on the other side of town
And nothing is that easy anymore
And last night I asked if I could
Take comfort in the rosewood
The road said nothing at all
Well cos it don't talk back unless the wind blows hard
I drive it all night with the wheel of my car
It won't leave me running for the door
And if the paints still wet I can just slow down
And it all goes away on the other side of town
And nothing is that easy anymore
Yeah cos it don't talk back unless the wind blows hard
I drive it all night with the wheel of my car
It won't leave me running for the door
And if the paints still wet I can just slow down
And it all goes away on the other side of town
And nothing is that easy anymore
song performed by by Kasey Chambers from The Captain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Who Invented The Wheel
I wanna know, who invented the wheel.
Tell me who discovered steel.
It was the wheel and the steel that caused this pain,
That made the car that took him away.
I wanna know, who invented the wheel.
I wanna know, who found the rock.
Tell me who made the black top.
It was the rock and the black top that caused this pain,
And made the road for the car, that took him away.
Chorus:
Somebody give me a name.
Cause I just need someone to blame.
For all of this heartache,
And pain I've been feelin' since he had to go,
I wanna know.
I wanna know who invented the time.
Out in this spand when he was mine.
It was all that time I didn't take,
It was the rock and the black top that made the highway,
For the wheel and the steel for the car, that took him away.
Chorus:
Somebody give me a name.
Cause I just need someone to blame.
For all of this heartache,
And pain I've been feelin' since he had to go,
I wanna know.
I wanna know.
I wanna know who invented the wheel.
song performed by by Trisha Yearwood
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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After Rain
The rain of a night and a day and a night
Stops at the light
Of this pale choked day. The peering sun
Sees what has been done.
The road under the trees has a border new
of purple hue
Inside the border of bright thin grass:
For all that has
Been left by November of leaves is torn
From hazel and thorn
And the greater trees. Throughout the copse
No dead leaf drops
On grey grass, green moss, burnt-orange fern,
At the wind's return:
The leaflets out of the ash-tree shed
Are thinly spread
In the road, like little black fish, inlaid,
As if they played.
What hangs from the myriad branches down there
So hard and bare
Is twelve yellow apples lovely to see
On one crab-tree.
And on each twig of every tree in the dell
Uncountable
Crystals both dark and bright of the the rain
That begins again.
poem by Edward Thomas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Corona
the water on the pail
has overflowed
now you must feel
the coldness too
the rain will be heavy
and it will fall for nights and
days and the road will be
flooded again
this time no child will play
boat in the water
women with black umbrellas
will pass on the streets as
though nothing happened
life is like that
even the vine with nice flowers
are pruned
the trellis sometimes do not
want any tendrils
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Evil Walks
Black shadow hangin over your shoulder
Black mark up against your name
Your green eyes couldnt get any colder
Theres bad poison runnin through your veins
Chorus:
Evil walks behind you
Evil sleeps beside you
Evil talks arouse you
Evil walks behind you
Black widow weavin evil notions
Dark secrets bein spun in your web
Good men goin down in your ocean
They cant swim cause theyre tied to your bed
Chorus
You just cry wolf
I sometimes wonder where you park your broom
Oh black widow
Cmon weave your web
Down in your ocean
You got em tied to your bed
With your dark, dark secrets
And your green, green eyes
You black widow
Chorus
Evil walks so bad
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Celtic Sonant
Deep peace of the running wave to you
Deep peace of the flowing air to you
Deep peace of the quiet earth to you
Deep peace of the shining star to you
Deep peace of the son of peace to you
One man stood firm guarding cups overflowing
Brimful of memories and yesterdays dreams
He could never explain his own silent thunder
The ocean just blows rough at this time of year
And the wheel keeps on turning
The wheel keeps on turning
The wheel keeps on turning
Turning around
Away we will sail with all our flags flying
Too many changes can cause us delay
Each star in the sky is there for a reason
Making it so bright for this time of day
And the wheel keeps on turning
The wheel keeps on turning
The wheel keeps on turning
This fool made it round
song performed by by Moody Blues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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