THE TRIPLE R

© Jim Kent

Winner, 2025 Laura Literary Awards – Bush Poetry Section, Laura, SA.

The Triple R he called his holding – Rabbits, Rocks and Roots,
walking paddocks rarely without his Blucher boots,
heavy webbing leggings, army issue, always worn,
protection from the tiger snakes, the thistle, rampant thorn.

The last remaining Settler block, the only bid his own,
others laughed and called him fool, the block was mostly stone,
stumps and rocks, no grazing grass, no future there to carve,
if he didn’t die of snake bite surely then he’d starve.

Ignored the nasty knowing sneers from those who said he’d fail,
though rough and rock and thorny scrub the block his holy grail.
believing that beneath the rock a deep and fertile soil,
virgin land responding to determination, toil.

Old the tractor purchased calling it the “Little Fart”
cranky engine spluttering and often hard to start,
willing though and versatile and never weary worn,
grubbing stumps and hauling rock and slashing scrub and thorn.

Married then to Millie May, a local farmer’s lass,
who he met one Sunday morning on his way to mass,
cynic tongues were loose again, she wouldn’t stay, they said,
on that ugly little block – but she was country bred.

Born of sturdy farming stock she shared his vision grand,
toiling hard beside her man to tame his chosen land.
Rocks and stones to fences made the goodly Irish way,
fences strong across their land and still in place today.

Rabbits trapped, outwitted, like the snakes they disappeared,
rocks removed and warrens gone they never reappeared,
scrub and thorn were bashed and burnt, the thistles slashed and dead,
ploughing ground, the weeds destroyed and pasture gown instead.

They built a cosy cottage on the slope above the stream.
morning blessed by rising sun, each golden magic beam,
orchard planted at the back, a veggie garden neat,
son and daughter born to them and life became complete.

Toil rewarded, dreams fulfilled, now masters of their land,
stud developed, Murray Greys, their cattle in demand,
cynic tongues were silent for the man had come to stay.
rocky land to pastured soil, success along the way.

Joining lands he purchased, adding acres to his own,
reputation justly earned; the finest cattle grown.
rock and thorn to pasture grand and known near and far,
but the name has never changed, it’s still the TRIPLE R.


Return to 2025 Award-Winning Poetry.

Terms of Use

All rights reserved.

The entire contents of the poetry in the collection on this site is copyright. Copyright for each individual poem remains with the poet. Therefore no poem or poems in this collection may be reproduced, performed, read aloud to any audience at any time, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without prior written permission of the individual poet.

Return to 2025 Award-Winning Poetry.