Related quotes: I was playing with my...

The Turn of the Road

I was playing with my hoop along the road
Just where the bushes are, when, suddenly,
There came a shout, -- I ran away and stowed
Myself beneath a bush, and watched to see
What made the noise, and then, around the bend,
I saw a woman running. She was old
And wrinkle-faced, and had big teeth. -- The end
Of her red shawl caught on a bush and rolled
Right off her, and her hair fell down. Her face
Was awful white, and both her eyes looked sick,
And she was talking queer. 'O God of Grace!'
Said she, 'where is the child?' and flew back quick
The way she came, and screamed, and shook her hands;
. . . Maybe she was a witch from foreign lands.

poem by James Brunton Stephens
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes

The Turn of the Road

I was playing with my hoop along the road
Just where the bushes are, when, suddenly,
There came a shout.—I ran away and stowed
Myself beneath a bush, and watched to see
What made the noise, and then, around the bend,
I saw a woman running. She was old
And wrinkle-faced, and had big teeth.—The end
Of her red shawl caught on a bush and rolled
Right off her, and her hair fell down.—Her face
Was awful white, and both her eyes looked sick,
And she was talking queer. 'O God of Grace!'
Said she, 'where is the child?' and flew back quick
The way she came, and screamed, and shook her hands;
... Maybe she was a witch from foreign lands.

poem by James Stephens
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The veldt is all around me

The veldt is all around me
and I am beyond enemy lines
camouflaged, clothed in
military uniform, wearing tracking boots,
with the soles almost like
running shoes,
with a weapon in my hands

viewing, taking reconnaissance
of enemy soldiers, driving by
on pickups, in cars without roofs
in trucks waving guns
in the air and sometimes
firing as they pass by

and suddenly a young boy
is beside me
clothed in a blue short sleeved shirt
and grey short pants
looking like school uniform
but being too young for school
and walking barefoot
right next to me.

Wherever I run from bush to bush,
catwalk, leopard crawl
and hide behind bushes
getting nearer to enemy positions
he stays at my side like a shadow
running, walking and standing openly

and it annoys me
and that he keeps talking to me
as he can draw attention to us
and I say:

“Gerrie, come and lie down.
Hide behind this bushes. Stop talking.
You will draw the enemy to us.”

Unconcerned like walking in the veldt
in my young days, and being ignored
by the natives passing by
the boy looks at me
shaking his head and asks:

“Why are the enemy shooting in the air
while they drive past?
Why do they sometimes
rob their own people? ”

Realizing that it’s my own thoughts
and I look at the child again
and see my younger self
with childish innocence
accompanying me.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Bush Hay

The stamp of Scotland is on his face,
But he sailed to the South a lad,
And he does not think of the black bleak hills
And the bitter hard youth he had;
He thinks of a nearer and dearer past
In the bright land far away,
When the teams went up and the teams came down,
In the days when they made bush hay.

The fare was rough and the bush was grim
In the “years of his pilgrimage”,
But he gained the strength that is still with him
In his hale, late middle age.
He thinks of the girl at the halfway inn
They use as a barn to-day—
Oh, she was a dumpling and he was thin
In the days when they made bush hay.

The ration teams to the Bathurst Plains
Were often a fortnight full.
And they branched all ways in the early days
And back to the port with wool.
They watched for the lights of old Cobb & Co.
That flashed to the West away,
When drivers drove six on a twelve-mile stage
In the days when they made bush hay.

He has made enough, and he’s sold his claim,
And he goes by the morning train,
From the gold-field town in the sultry West
To his home by the sea again,
Where a bustling old body’s expecting him
Whose hair is scarcely grey,
And she was the girl of the halfway house
In the days when they made bush hay.

poem by Henry Lawson
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Ghost Train

We were off to visit the Carnival,
Me, George and Julie Anne,
George was our mother's boyfriend,
(Though in fact, he was a man!)
I was seven and Julie six
And our Mum waved us goodbye,
She said she had some shopping to do
Told Julie not to cry!

George looked up to the heavens with
His fake, long-suffering grin,
For Julie cried a helluva lot,
She couldn't keep it in,
He took us down on the bus that night
There wasn't room to park,
The evening stars were coming out
It was getting kinda dark.

We saw the lights of the Carnival
And Julie's face lit up,
There were lots of rides and coconut shies
And Julie rode in a duck,
While George and I on the rifle range
Picked off some metal bears,
That raced across at the back, stood up,
Then fell to the pellets there.

There were clowns and men with megaphones,
And Chili Dogs with cheese,
And plenty of fluffy candy floss
That Julie stuck to her knees,
There was soda pop at this little shop
And we ate and drank our fill,
While George went up on a flying fox
And he said: ‘Now you be still! '

The evening mist came down at last
And George said we should go,
For Julie Anne was ready for bed
But I said, ‘Can't we go? '
I pointed over the other side
Where a stall was draped in black,
With a skeleton painted on the front
Near a man with a bowler hat.

The sign had said ‘The Ghost Train'
And it looked all creepy, too,
With little cars that rumbled along
With room on them for two,
So George went over and paid the man
Who gave us an awful leer,
Said, ‘Come on kids, here's an empty one,
We can sit you both down here.'

So I sat me down on the outside
Julie Anne was next to me,
The car jerked once, then rumbled off
Through a curtain, I said ‘Wheee! '
We travelled into the darkness
With the odd red flashing light,
A spider brushed against Julie's cheek
And she screamed in a sudden fright.

A skeleton stuck out its bony arm
And it made a horrible sound,
Much like the scream of a banshee
Then a monster spun it around,
Its head revolved on its shoulders
And its teeth were yellow and red,
As a witch on a broomstick flew at us
And sailed right over my head.

I think I must have been more than pale
As the train passed ghosts and lights,
And creepy-crawly horror things
That would give you an instant fright,
We went through a darkened spider den
It was then that I looked around,
No Julie Anne, just an empty seat
As the car went thundering down.

I called and called for Julie Anne
But I couldn't hear her scream,
Only the weird and ghostly sounds
As that train passed by in a dream,
But then it parted the curtain and
I found myself in the air,
With George just standing there startled
Running his fingers through his hair.

‘What have you done with Julie Anne? '
He shook me, made me sick,
‘She disappeared in the tunnel there,
It must be a Ghost Train trick! '
Then George looked round for the barker,
For the man in the bowler hat,
But the man had gone, and the lights went down
And the car sat, still on the track.

‘Your mother will kill me, ' George had cried
As he dived through the curtain there,
I followed him in, I wouldn't be left
With the crazies at the Fair,
We stumbled over the rails, and fought
The cobwebs and the freaks,
With George still calling out ‘Julie Anne! '
In a voice that sounded bleak.

We went right through, saw nobody,
And stood in a sweat outside,
When suddenly there was a rumbling
From a car that was still inside,
The curtain parted, the car came out
With a woman as old as Pan,
She staggered up with a walking stick
And she cried: ‘I'm Julie Anne! '

12 September 2012

poem by David Lewis Paget
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The snake was in the tree

The snake was in the tree
and watched the woman and man
and both of them were free
and at the woman he looked
and both were innocent and happy.

He wanted the woman for himself
as she was beautiful
and had some grace
and in his plans
the man had no place,
but of all of this
Eve heard never a word.

She was on her back
and looked at the blue sky
and the shadow of Adam
fell over her
and his smile he couldn’t hide.

His hands was like magic
and he spoke of love
and of God
and they were one
with the setting sun
and God smiled
and blessed all lovers
in His new world
called earth.

poem by Gert Strydom
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