The Shepherd

[Gary Harding]

Ages ago I tried to to write for competitions but never really did much good. Looking back, that material was a trifle amateur and this poem from then is a bit like that. I will post it here with due apologies to the Reader. If there is any merit, I suggest that it entirely rests with my mate Leo Buckley who works beautifully in pen and ink and kindly illustrated (attached) this narrative verse.

The Shepherd

For it happened on a mountain pass in mud and slush and snow,
That we broke a wheel and axle when the sun was getting low.
Not enough to worry many who were used to snowy peaks,
But we'd only drawn the boss's cart for nigh on seven weeks.

So we tramped it through the twilight with the horse and pack behind.
Cursing luck and cursing weather for the way was hard to find.
Then the pack-horse tripped and stumbled in a hidden wombat lair.
Broke her leg before we knew it and we had to plant her there.

It was no use in complaining when we didn't have a choice,
But the silence as we plodded said it better than a voice
For we lost the way completely when the darkness closed around.
Each believing that the other was the surer of his ground.

Through the dripping ferns and mountain ash we staggered on for days,
Catching glimpses of horizon through the frosty mountain haze.
Till our tuckerbags was empty and our strength would rise no more
And the time had come we reckoned to be "adding up the score"

Then we woke all of sudden in flash of blazing light.
What we took to be the lightning though p'rhaps that wasn't right,
For a giant of a Bushman with a massive mountain stride
Came a'crashing through the timber with a kelpie by his side.

"I suppose you'll need some tucker and directions boys but first
Have a slice of jam and damper and some rum to fix your thirst".
Well, we were not up to questions and he might have thought us rude
So we drank his rum and water and we thanked him for his food.

But we noticed in the clearing where a patch of burning wood
Remained to mark the stump of where a giant gum had stood.
Then he vanished on a moment as we heard the lightning crack
But we found our strength and followed his directions to the track.

And we told the boss our story and enquired who he might be.
That kind bushman with the kelpie who took care of Bill and me.
- Well, I'm pretty brave that's certain but the answer that we got
Made my neck-hair stand and prickle and my face run cold and hot.

"That was Jim the gentle shepherd; with the pup it's him of course.
Died a year ago last Fri-dee, took a fall from Riley's horse.
He was searching for his sheep and lambs and rounding up his stock,
And tonight he found his strays my lads - tonight he found his flock."

[alongtimegone]

Nothing amateurish about that Gary. Great yarn and your mate's certainly handy with the pen and ink.
Wazza

[Gary Harding]

Many thanks Wazza, to be honest it was your latest verse A Cold Wind that made me suddenly sit up! As Catherine said "it's a beauty". It made me feel that I should contribute just one poem instead of simply sitting back and reading the work of other members.
Perhaps it adds little, but something at least.
There are talented writers on the Forum .

[alongtimegone]

So glad that you did Gary.
Wazza

[Catherine Lee]

Well Gary, I have to disagree with you there – “a trifle amateur”??!! ....As Wazza said, there is nothing amateur about this!

This great story really pulls you in and holds attention from beginning to end, and there is great rhyme and rhythm and some wonderful images. I like these lines in particular: “But the silence as we plodded said it better than a voice” and the images in: “Through the dripping ferns and mountain ash we staggered on for days, Catching glimpses of horizon though the frosty mountain haze.” Plus the way in which you end it with “And tonight he found his strays my lads - tonight he found his flock" is excellent, suiting as it does the atmosphere of the tale so perfectly.

Your mate Leo is clearly very talented – as are you! I love this and am really glad you decided to share it - so like Wazza, I sincerely hope you’ll consider sharing some more!

[Gary Harding]

Thank you so much Catherine, and Wazza again.

Catherine, you are always incredibly perceptive, "spot on" and encouraging. Something I hugely appreciate. Just had a tiny bit of glass surgically removed from my foot so may as well sit at the computer because walking is not encouraged for now.

Vampire Jets and Bush Poetry

Story :

I recall the original inspiration for this poem came from a very engaging Frederick Forsyth novel of the same title ("The Shepherd").
He was a favourite author of mine (The Day of the Jackal, The Odessa File, The Fourth Protocol, The Dogs of War etc).

The story-line was :

"It is Christmas Eve, 1957, and there are cozier places to be than the cockpit of a de Havilland Vampire. But for the Royal Air Force pilot who has just taken off from West Germany, this single-seat jet is the only way to make it back to England for Christmas morning. His flight-plan is simple; the fuel tank is full. In sixty-six minutes, he will be back in Blighty. But then the plane's systems begin to fail. First the compass goes haywire, then the radio dies. Lost and alone above the English coast, the pilot is searching for a landing strip when the fog closes in, signaling certain death. He has given up hope when a second shadow appears on the cloud beneath him — it is a Mosquito fighter-bomber of World War II vintage. The plane is "a shepherd”, guiding the Vampire to a safe landing and its appearance is a gift from fate, a miracle out of time—"

A ghost aircraft.. or a phantom? Perhaps one that went on a wartime mission, never to return.. until now?

So why not adapt this goose-bump story-line into a similar Bush story?

Yes, it was a peculiar idea for sure ... and this poem was the result.

**The attached picture is my older cousin Ken (later Lt-Col. in the army) as a youth sitting in the cockpit of a Vampire at Laverton RAAF base . At this time it was a training aircraft. We did a family visit which was kindly hosted by John "Robby" Robinson who worked for my father and who flew Vampires with the Civilian Air Force Reserve on weekends. I dimly recall it.

Imagine ringing up the RAAF base and booking the Vampire for a little weekend jaunt. Chocks away, lads!!

So only for FUN...that is the story behind this poem The Shepherd..

Odd how things can work together to inspire a verse, isn't it. Even whale experiences it seems. Ha.

Sorry for writing a lot.

[Catherine Lee]

Oh my gosh, I'm sure I read that Forsyth story just last year - I recognised it from your storyline! Yes, it is indeed a great inspiration for your poem! Love the photos too, Gary....I'm only sorry to hear about your foot - make sure you stay off it, and I hope it gets better soon!

[Ron]

Yep, nothing amateurish about that one at all Gary, a really good write in my opinion.
Some great word pictures created along with a really good story line! And as Catherine has said it has great rhyme and rhythm.
Also an interesting read on your inspiration for the poem.
Also your mate did a great job on the illustration, the kelpie looks a dead ringer for the one we have here at home. (But not as spoilt I'll bet! )
Really enjoyed the read, thank you,
Ron

[Gary Harding]

Many thanks Ron!
I am not really a poetry writer like yourself or Catherine but I used to have a go .. being now mostly an avid Collector of Stuff, which is OK until the house is full.
One collector mate has a house that is so full he even resorts to storing stuff on the kitchen table and has to peer over it to talk to his wife at meal-times. True!

I recall reading that a famous (or infamous) politician (now deceased) asked someone what they did and when they replied "I am a poet", he reportedly said "Surely that is for others to decide?". This story is likely well known, and it sticks with me.

It implies that one is pretty much unable to assess one's own writing.. and thus the importance of gaining honest feedback from others on a popular forum like this. So I guess you have those who write and those who then generously make free of their time to read and assess it, even if just a few lines.
Your own kind feedback for me is reinforcing and generous too.

Catherine, of the millions of novels out there, it is such an incredible coincidence that you read The Shepherd last year! Staggering.

You might agree that must surely be a sign of something so I will buy a big lottery ticket next week and then if it wins I will share it with you!!
Well, sort of.

Thank you.

[Maureen K Clifford]

WOW! Well I would be delighted with your permission of course to share that bit of 'amateurish poetry' with the mob over on the ARP
Facebook page. Pretty sure it will get a good response there in keeping with its station