En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Written At Broadbeach Queensland

The noisy miners chirp in sunburnt parkway by the sea
And lorikeets are noising as they fly from tree to tree
The scaly breasted and the rainbow keets from gum to sheoak fly
A blaze of dazzling colours for to captivate the eye.

The magpies pipe their sweetest notes just as the sun go down
And freshening sea breeze cool the air in humid Queensland Town
This is the nicest time of day a cool pacific breeze
And sun retire at close of day to songbird melodies.

Sun bathers in their beach wear through parkway make their way
Their bodies bronzed from lying on beach for hours on end each day
Sun lovers flock to Queensland the cruel sun they don't fear
They sun bathe on the Gold Coast the twelve months of the year.

An evening in October the second month of Spring
The miners and the magpies in Broadbeach parkland sing
And lorikeets are chirping on gum and sheoak trees
And People walk home from the beach in freshening evening breeze.

poem by Francis Duggan
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The First Of October

The first of October a beautiful day
And in the blue sky just a few specks of gray
And sunshine on the Parkland and on the park trees
And the warmth of Spring is in the freshening breeze,
The malelucas resplendent in their blossoms of white
And the magpies are piping in the warm sunlight,
The first of October and the capeweed in bloom
And beautiful golden flowers cover the broom,
In the paddock by the wood the grey kangaroos graze
They often venture out of cover on pleasant Spring days,
The first day of the second month of the Spring
And in the woodland nesting birds chirp and sing
And the sun shining brightly in the clear blue sky
And the swallows above the paddocks they sing as they fly.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Warrnambool In January

Tis warm in the full sun but in the shade tis cool
And the magpies and the mudlarks are singing in the City of Warrnambool
Their music in the Summer air where the cars buzz up and down
On Lava Street in the heart of the busy seaside Town.

A pleasant day in January a high of twenty nine degrees
And there is a nice sort of coolness in the freshening coastal breeze
And the magpies and the mudlarks pipe their distinctive melodies
Near where the traffic it is buzzing on the sunlit street trees.

In Warrnambool in January in the holiday time of year
The accents of different races in the shopping malls one does hear
Quite a nice City to visit if you are driving that way
So many people there do smile at you and bid you a good day.

An old rural City in Victoria in the coastal countryside
The famed City of Warrnambool it is known far and wide
The magpies they are fluting and the mudlarks sing pee wee
And the Summer sun is shining on the City by the sea.

poem by Francis Duggan
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You Can't Have Everything

The Queensland sun shines early in the morning
And keeps on burning hotter through the day
And though the Parklands watered by the sprinklers
Through the pale green patches of brown through gray.

But I know of a Land of natural greeness
Where Spring doesn't often come till early May
Though birds from early April on nest building
In that green Country half a World away.

I close my eyes I hear the dipper singing
And wild flowers bloom along the mountain stream
And chaffinch pipes his happy notes to April
And grass is growing and fields look lush and green.

Here in the Gold Coast in deep south of Queensland
The lorikeets and noisy miners sing
They have only known the warmth of the sub tropics
Where Winter's warmer than the northern Spring.

In distant Land above the bracken mountain
The lark is piping in the morning sky
Till lost to view he soars towards gathering rain clouds
And singing ever singing as he fly.

In South Queensland the rain is always welcome
And sun shine all year round and wild birds sing
But I know of a Country green and wetter
Which goes to prove you can't have everything.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Another Near To Perfect Day

In the sky the sun brightly shining the blue sky with some clouds of gray
On an afternoon in late October another near to perfect day
The white surf waves are gently rolling one reason no surfer in sight
And the silver gulls on the white beach search for food in the warm sunlight
An artist may well sketch such beauty and writers about it may write
By the coastal town on the surf beach there is beauty in peace and quiet
Today the ocean is not roaring no big waves for surfers to ride
The waves on the beach gently lapping so timid the sea at low tide
In the park the magpie larks calling the only notes they sing pee wee
And wattlebirds on the flowering coastal banksias their harsh calls familiar to me
On a beautiful day in the Springtime of around 24 degrees
And there is a cool sort of freshness in the cool freshening coastal breeze
Save for the silver gulls the beach is deserted and so clean is the fresh coastal air
A good memory to keep and to cherish and a good memory with others to share.

poem by Francis Duggan
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A Showery October Afternoon

It is a showery afternoon water drips from the trees
But it's not cold a mild Spring day perhaps twenty degrees
In late October in the hills you do get days like these
When morning sun give way to showers though cool enough the breeze.

The black faced cuckoo shrike is back from places far away
A bird you never can mistake in cloak of silver gray
And in the wood the high pitched voice of the gray currawong
These birds you come to recognize by their distinctive song.

On the high gum tree in their nest young magpies chirp and call
And October in the Dandenongs the loveliest month of all
The high paddocks of Belgrave South are looking lush and green
And Mother Nature beautiful as lovely as I've seen.

The migratory welcome swallows back in the hills again
They fly low o'er the paddocks the flies are low in rain
My favourite Season of the year has always been the Spring
In storm and rain and sunshine the wild birds chirp and sing

This morning pretty butterflies flitted around the flowers
But the afternoon turned cloudy and sun gave way to showers
In October in the Dandenongs you do get days like these
A day of showers and sun shine water dripping off the trees.

poem by Francis Duggan
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On Seeing Little Lorikeets

They looked like African lovebirds that I see
On trees near Dimboola in the Vic Mallee
But then I told myself this cannot be
As African lovebirds in Australia don't live free.

Lit by a shaft of bright April sun shine
On pleasant evening in middle Autumn time
Small green feathered Parrots with red faces and dark bills
On eucalyptus branches uttered high pitched trills.

It took me back to photograph I'd seen
Of litle red faced parrots dressed in green
That fly from tree to tree in daylight hours
In search of fruit and eucalyptus flowers.

And 'twas then I realized that I had come to meet
The smallest of the lories little lorikeets
Near Dimboola Town on small roadside Parkway
On eucalyptus trees on sunlit April day.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Down to the beach

Down to the beach
Down to the beach
On a sunny day we go

Beach bags packed with sun screen lotions
Hands rubbing people’s backs in slow motion
Glistening oily bodies radiating with sensation

Down to the beach
Down to the beach
Where a chilly sea breeze blows

Let’s have some fun
In the red-hot sun

Down to the beach
Only there the ladies reveal saucy behinds
Whenever the raging sun is still kind

Down to the beach
As never-ceasing waves play across the shores
People happily play dreading any rainy downpour

Down to the beach
Where young lovers closely nestle
As sand creatures cause the sand to bristle
Seagulls gliding in the air with screams and whistles
Kids picking up shells and building stormy sand castles

Down to the beach
Where mostly good vibes flow
Down to the beach
We go whilst there is still sun without snow

poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Into The Last Month Of Winter

Into the last month of Winter and the wattles cloaked in yellow flowers in bloom
And pink flowers on the camellias and yellow flowers on the broom
And all through the night the white backed magpies sing
On the third week of August coming up to the Spring
On the third week of August in the Southern Hemisphere
One does have a sense that Spring is quite near
The paddocks and parklands are looking quite green
And fragile pink flowers on the fruit trees are seen
Into the third week of August and birds sing in the rain
And all through the night frogs sing in pond and drain
And in the calm of the night in the parkland nearby
The breeding spur wing plovers in their territory cry
And all through the night on the moonlit gum trees
The songs of the magpies carry in the breeze.

poem by Francis Duggan
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A Morning In Late June

In the cold depths of Winter the grey butcherbird sing
And only nine weeks or thereabouts till the first breath of Spring
Five days ago of daylight hours the year's shortest day
And time it keeps ticking and ticking away.

The drake in the pond performs his courtship display
As he swims by his mate he nods his head her way
And he quacks to tell others she belongs to me
He will be the father of her family.

The buds on the camellias beginning to sprout
In the coldest of Winter their blooms will be out
They will be cloaked in flowers by the end of July
When the chill winds of Winter blow across the sky.

A morning in late June a chill in the breeze
And the rainbow lorikeets chirp on the flowering gum trees
As with their tongues they sip nectar from the pink gum flowers
Amongst leaves rather wet from recent heavy showers.

The sky clouded over and a chill in the wind
And the first month of Winter is close to an end
And old father time he keeps ticking away
And Spring is approaching with each passing day.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Oh Sing Me A Song Of Nature

Oh sing me of Nature's great beauty of sunlight on flowering gum trees
And the sweet scents of Nature's own perfume that wafts in the freshening breeze
And sing of the wildborn creatures the call of the boobook owl at night
And the wild cry of the brushtail possum on the blackwood tree in the moonlight,
'Tis only of love that you sing of the bloke who yearns for the love of his life
The one who left him heavy hearted for to become another man's wife
I do grow tired of listening to love songs how come few of Nature do sing
The cold starry nights of the Winter the beautiful birdsong of Spring,
The warm balmy days of the Summer the cool breezy evenings of the Fall
Oh sing me a song of our Earth Mother since she is the greatest of all,
The beauty of Nature's great ocean the beach on a warm Summer's day
The coolness of a coastal evening and the freshness of the ocean spray,
Oh do sing me a song of Nature and brighten my day with good cheer
I've grown tired of meaningless love songs such stuff i do not wish to hear.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Moments At The Beach

flowing water, cool breeze
waves washing a shore
birds drifting in the wind
boats sailing on the water
people strolling along the beach
children playing in the sand
sun bathers laying a shore
swimmers playing in the water
volleyball in the sand
family picnics under the trees
The lake so beautiful
The beach so free
people being friendly
the life so simple for a day at the beach
Strangers, friends and family enjoying the lake
the simple things in life is enjoy nature and ourselves

poem by Michael Peterson
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The First Of September

The morning it is breaking cloudy and gray
It does seem another cool late Winter's day
But the birds in the Parkland they whistle and sing
Believe it or not 'tis the first day of Spring
The first day of September the day of the year
When to Australia in the Southern Hemisphere
The Spring she arrives for her three months stay
With much warmer weather just a few weeks away
The Spring has arrived with her wildflowers and green
And her beauty in gardens and parks to be seen
Spring she arrives and she brings with her new life
And in parks and gardens Nature's beauty is rife
For the first day of September a cool chill in the breeze
But the birds chirp and whistle on the bushes and trees.

poem by Francis Duggan
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It Is So Good To Be Outdoors

On a sunny day like this day tis just great to be alive
Just to walk out in the sunshine or to go off on a drive
To the mountain or the coastal town or to the park nearby
It is nice for to be outdoors when the sun is in the sky
A sunny day in September of around 20 degrees
And the scents of flowers and blossoms wafting in the freshening breeze
And the young lambs in the paddocks around their mothers play
It is good for to be outdoors on a warm day like today,
The familiar song of the blackbird a feathered minstrel of the Spring
And the honeyeaters chirping and the shrike thrush pipe and sing
And October days are looming and September all but gone
And the Spring is passing quickly and father time keeps ticking on
And the welcome swallows chirping they are so graceful in flight
It is so good to be outdoors in the September sunlight.

poem by Francis Duggan
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The Tree And The Breeze

Have you ever noticed how the trees sway with the breeze?
It's as if they were dancing in rhythm with a mellow tune
Have you ever notice how a tree is home to a bird's nest...
where the birds rest?
It's as if the tree were a peaceful and relaxed get-away
From where their troubles stray
But then the tree also has another side
In which it can take the birds for a bit of a ride
It is its party side...
when a pile of birds get together in one tree...
to sing along to the breeze as back and forth it sways the tree

The tree's stuck in the ground
Every day its life's the same
But the breeze
Now that's a different story
The breeze is free
It goes and comes as it pleases
The tree it seizes
Have you ever noticed half the things a tree does are caused by the breeze?

poem by Amy Parkinson
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On Hearing A Grey Shrike Thrush Singing In The Rain

The grey thrush sing on branch of mountain gray
At twilight of a most Unspring like day
On October evening made damp by drizzling rain
And grey bird sing his same song o'er again.

And freshening wind has breath of winter sting
Seems more like Winter now than middle Spring
And wind driven rain fall from the darkening sky
And still the grey thrush pipes his notes of joy.

I wonder why he sing so merrily
On low down branch of noble gray gum tree
Could it be that he can tell from inner eye
That tomorrow's weather will be warm and dry?

Or could he sing that in some nearby tree
His wife on nest shelter new family?
And he tell his neighbours this my territory
And I'm now a dad 'oh lucky happy me'.

And why he sing should it matter anyway
His song at close of wet October day?
The weather dreary for the time of year
But grey thrush's notes sweet music to my ears.

poem by Francis Duggan
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The Women Like Mother Nature

blue skys overnight sittin alone on the beach
im outta my mind
the special one i cant find
sparkling stars
smilling at me
hello james
are that one that will change to my last name
'naw' im dreaming
the cool breeze on my neck
are you that women
nope its just the wind teasing me
but some day she will come
and we both will be sent out on the beach
with the midnight stars and breeze

poem by James Bost
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Somewhere Up In Queensland

He's somewhere up in Queensland,
The old folks used to say;
He’s somewhere up in Queensland,
The people say to-day.
But Somewhere (up in Queensland)
That uncle used to know—
That filled our hearts with wonder,
Seems vanished long ago.
He’s gone to Queensland, droving,
The old folks used to say;
He’s gone to Queensland, droving,
The people say to-day.
But “gone to Queensland, droving,”
Might mean, in language plain,
He follows stock in buggies,
And gets supplies by train.

He’s knocking round in Queensland,
The old folks used to say;
He’s gone to Queensland, roving,
His sweetheart says to-day.
But “gone to Queensland, roving”
By mighty plain and scrub,
Might mean he drives a motor-car
For Missus Moneygrub.

He’s looking for new country,
The old folks used to say;
Our boy has gone exploring,
Fond parents say to-day.
“Exploring” out in Queensland
Might only mean to some
He’s salesman in “the drapery”
Of a bush emporium.

To somewhere up in Queensland
Went Tom and Ted and Jack;
From somewhere up in Queensland
The dusty cheques come back:
From somewhere up in Queensland
Brown drovers used to come,
And someone up in Queensland
Kept many a southern home.

Somewhere up in Queensland,
How many black sheep roam,
Who never write a letter,
And never think of home.
For someone up in Queensland
How many a mother spoke;
For someone up in Queensland
How many a girl’s heart broke.

poem by Henry Lawson
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A Lovely Day In September

The nesting songbirds are singing on the sunlit bushes and trees
On this warm day in September of close to thirty degrees
The cows in the nearby paddock sit and chew their cuds at ease
And there is a pleasant freshness in the freshening coastal breeze
For the second week of the Spring a very warm day
The fruit bearing trees looking beautiful in their blooms of pink and gray
The poets and the artists by such beauty feel inspired
Of singing Nature's praises one never could feel tired
After the heavy rainfalls of late Winter the paddocks are looking green
And wildflowers known to some as weeds in plenty to be seen
Dragon flies out in swarms in the bright sunshine fly
And the dark winged welcome swallows are chirping in the sky
A lovely day in September close to thirty degrees
Songbirds sing in the sunshine in the freshening coastal breeze.

poem by Francis Duggan
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The Marigolds

The Spring is in her prime now and the lovely marigold
Are blooming in the blackwood shade so lovely to behold
On a warm day in October close to thirty degrees
With the sun glowing in the blue sky and warmth in the breeze
In the breeze the marigold are nodding in their beautiful golden flowers
They came to bloom in the early Spring in the cool September showers
A gift from Mother Nature for to look at and enjoy
I have loved Nature's beauty ever since i was a boy
Such marvellous things of beauty that Nature does create
Though most of Nature's wonders have their own use by date
A sunny day in October warm for the time of year
And the songbirds in the parkland sound melodious and clear
And partly lit by the sunshine in the shade of the blackwood trees
The beautiful golden marigold are nodding in the breeze.

poem by Francis Duggan
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A Bright Sky

I walk down the beach in the beaming sun,
My feet sink into the sand, gently,
My hair is swept backwards as the warm breeze hits it,
Suddenly I turn around and everything is opposite,
My hair is swept backwards as the cool breeze hits it,
I feel as though I walk above the sand,
And I walk back down the beach in the night,
I look up and all I can see is darkness,
The night sky is lit by the moon and the stars,
It’s a bright sky.

poem by Sophie Shaw
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