ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

Have you noticed that we frequently use Lawson and Patterson (and others of course) as the benchmark for "bush" poetry? We often say things like "Lawson did it so it must be acceptable". In another thread the use of "now" and "now" is given as an example by David of something Lawson used.

I wonder at what point in history (and who decided it) that Lawson, Patterson, O'Brien etc were determined to set the benchmark. Did Lawson and Patterson "write to rules"? Or did they just write poetry? Was it because Lawson and Patterson featured so often in The Bulletin and gained a large following that their writing became the accepted "norm"?

Heather

I think that The Bulletin was a major factor. The question is, who did Henry and Banjo look to, for poetic development, their verse didn't emerge from a vacuum.

I don't know much about Paterson, Neville, but from what I've read, Lawson was influenced by Rudyard Kipling, Henry Kendall, Adam Lindsay Gordon - and his mother was a huge influence of course. Both Kendall and Gordon's poetry is rhyming and metred but very archaic in terms of language.

It sort of relates to your recent question Neville about who wrote the rules as to how we should write "bush" poetry.

Heather

Who's Patterson?

Oh dear - it hasn't been a good day has it! mutter mutter mutter Have another wine Heather


Heather

To explain Heather's understandable confusion, "Patterson" is actually Vernon Igor "Ukulele" Patterson, a contemporary local Victorian poet who wrote the slightly lesser-known The Man From Yarra River, which begins as follows:

The Man From Yarra River

He had driven up from Melbourne for a country holiday,
in his Blunnies, his Akubra, and his jeans,
for he reckoned that a bushman had a life that looked okay,
far away from city traffic and machines.
He was heading for Glenrowan, where Ned Kelly made his stand,
and in Kilmore he had stopped to have a bite
at the famous pub Red Lion, very stately and quite grand,
where he met a girl called Heather, surname Knight.

There were plans at one stage to make a film based on the poem starring Nicole Kidman and Hugh Jackman, but the project collapsed when they went off to do something else that nobody ever went to see.

David

Ooooh David tell me more and our Heather was a part of all of this....WOW and who can resist a bloke in Blunnies, Jeans and an Akubra? Be still my heart.....(sigh )

The film failed to get off the ground because the Red Lion is currently the pub without beer It has a chequered history having previously been owned by Tony Mokbel.....

And, if anyone read my second post you will see Paterson with one "t" - it takes a while for me to wake up Marty.

Ah, Maureen, "Ukulele" Patterson (sometimes knowns as "Two Tees" Patterson), is something of a recluse so not a great deal is known about him. His father was an encyclopaedia salesman who was made redundant when the internet became popular, and who, sadly, was killed soon after when a bookcase fell on him. Ukulele still lives with his mother, who supports them both by sticking identification labels on Pink Lady apples. Ukulele only leaves the house on weekends to sell his poems at the Victoria Market but, apart from Waltzing St Kilda, a poetic history of the Palais de Danse on the St Kilda foreshore, none of his poems have ever sold more than five copies. He hopes that The Man From Yarra River will be his breakthrough work, so I have sought his permission to publish it. He has written me a letter, which I have, for want of better knowledge, quoted as he wrote it, for it seems the thing to do: “You can print it, but in sections, for I have to make corrections, and I need to take some time to check it through.” So here is the poem, with three more stanzas added:

He had driven up from Melbourne for a country holiday,
in his Blunnies, his Akubra, and his jeans,
for he reckoned that a bushman had a life that looked okay,
far away from city traffic and machines.
He was heading for Glenrowan, where Ned Kelly made his stand,
and in Kilmore he had stopped to have a bite
at the famous pub Red Lion, very stately and quite grand,
where he met a girl called Heather, surname Knight.

He approached her for assistance as he had a noble quest
that has haunted quite a few Australian men,
for he longed to be a horseman, one acknowledged as the best,
and he reckoned Heather knew a thing or ten.
For he saw himself a hero, mounted proudly on his steed,
with a skill that held the rest of them in thrall,
as he showed the local riders an amazing turn of speed,
for his talent was the envy of them all.

“Would you come and help me, Heather, for I’d like to learn to ride
like the man from Snowy River used to do,
and if someone could assist me, as my mentor and my guide,
in a day or two I’ll be a jackaroo!
’Cause I reckon it looks easy when I’ve seen it on TV,
and I’ve ridden on a Shetland at the Show…
it is just a case of rhythm, and some pressure with the knee,
and a horse will take me where I want to go!”

Heather stared at him a moment, but then gave a quiet smile,
and agreed that she would help him with his quest,
for if he was such a rider it would only take a while,
and he’d surely be the fastest and the best.
So she put him in the saddle of a fairly placid colt,
to begin at quite a slow and steady pace…
and she swore forever after that it wasn’t all her fault,
that what happened was a freak of time and place.

Cute ...