ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

Was Harry ever married?

Wild woolly clumps of grey,
Blacker in a younger day,
Memories go but wrinkles stay,
He smiled and shook my hand.

We sat, he talked of days of old,
Of running cattle, panning gold,
Of searing heat and killing cold,
Across this gruelling land.

Weathered hands and thirsty skin,
Outward hard but tender in,
A common trait amongst his kin,
Yet all just grains of sand.

Honest as the day is long,
Epitome of right from wrong,
Animated through his song,
Devoid of wedding band.

The fact his finger bore no ring,
Enticed engrossed imagining,
Surely love not lingering,
And wasted as it seems?

Features changed upon his brow,
Silence held his fervour now,
Embarrassed I began to bow,
For asking of his dreams.

Yet love had held him once before,
‘Twas just the once and never more,
But fate ensured his heart was tore,
Left bleeding at the seams.

Her horse had taken quite a fright,
And bolted wildly through the night,
Her trampled body soaked in light,
From anxious searching teams.

For now she lies beneath the hill,
Retaining precious memories still,
She always has, and always will,
Embrace his absent band.

In awe I stood before this gent,
Recounting what our time had lent,
I reached to him before I went,
Just smiled, and shook his hand,

©MadMick 10-01-11

©'day Mick,

Great to hear from you again and with such a delightful poem. You know I like the 'slightly different' ones. A beautiful love poem, simply, but skillfully written. Thank you for sharing it with us. I know when I see 'MadMick' that I am in for a treat and even a little modest lesson in weaving the words into magic.

Hi Mick - I like the brevity and sparsity of words used in this it works well IMO with the conversational style of a lot of country people where sometimes the silences are deafening.

Totally agree with Zondrae's comment - this is a beautiful piece, You're an old romantic Mick at heart I think,

Cheers

Maureen

and Maureen,

If you saw Mick walking down the street you would never (and I mean never) guess he was all poet at heart.

Zondrae.. ..now, now! just because he wears a pink beret with matching scarf & walks with his left hand on his hip while his right arm is outstretched with a limp wrist, does not mean a thing. .................dodging one of those flying VB things from Mick..

It was a lemon spritzer Dave damn it!

LOL!!..I realise that now cause the damm little umbrella stuck in my arm.

Good one Dave . . . Gotta agree with Zondrae . . if you had to pick the 'offending romantic poet' from a police line up you'd hardly give Mick a second glance. "Have you seen this man? If so, approach under no circumstances, he may be armed with soppy rhyming couplets!"

So, warooa,

you have met him too? and by the way just does 'warooa' mean?

My guess is "Warooa" is FNQLD jargon for smarty pants.
I'll come back up and SLAP you Marty.