ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

A while ago a work colleague of mine (nicknamed "Macca") told the tale of his nocturnal encounter with a possum on his roof. I have already written this story into a poem - but for this homework I thought it would be fun to give it a makeover in the style of The Man From Snowy River (with sincere apologies to the great Banjo!)

THE MAN WHO GOT THE POSSUM

There was movement at “McCastle” in the middle of the night
(when honest country folk would be asleep)
with a scurry and a scamper down the chimney – then two bright
and beady eyes looked out with cheeky peep!

Many tried and noted heroes would have quickly come unstuck –
but Macca faced the test with unconcern!
He just marshalled up the wife – for he was full of game and pluck
and gave his orders – definite and firm!

“Now then Missus – you must wheel it, try to wheel it to the right.
Stand boldly, girl, and never fear its teeth!”
But it all was unavailing, as the possum in its fright
aimed for her legs, and scurried through beneath!

Then from room to room it scampered as it tried to get away.
It took the kitchen benches in its stride.
And the Missus muttered fiercely, “We may bid this poss good-day!
We’re beaten if it finds somewhere to hide!”

But they caught it in the bathroom, where two open cupboards met –
and trapped it … so a photograph reveals
in a fluffy towel – wrapped up – a little face, defiant yet –
about to see how “relocation” feels!

But that possum had a brother, and the middle of the night
again saw Macca perching on a rail
so precariously balanced, hanging on with all his might
to awning roof … and to a possum’s tail!

He sent the possum flying, but it landed on its feet;
It cleared the garden bed and crossed the lawn,
which awoke the neighbour’s labrador, who, barking up a treat,
roused half the district – long before the dawn!

But the next night it returned, and did a tango like a goat
above the bedroom, loud and fancy free!
Macca rustled up a cat trap as he muttered (and I quote),
“I’ll teach the blighter! He won’t laugh at me!”

At 3 a.m. a sudden clang proclaimed the possum’s doom,
and Macca, more enthused than he was wise –
started out to climb the ladder in the drizzle and the gloom
and crept across the roof to claim his prize.

But the ladder rungs were greasy, and he couldn’t keep his feet -
descending with a clatter in his haste -
and Macca/ladder/possum made a tangle quite complete!
Another Kodak Moment gone to waste!

Then The Man Who Got The Possum let the Holden have its head –
He drove for forty miles along the track;
Now that sprightly possum’s dancing on another roof instead –
so far away – it’s never coming back!

Though the peaceful night was shattered by the trap and ladder fall
and revving up the engine for a run,
Macca found to his disgust the Missus slept on through it all
and never heard a thing till morning sun!

And down there in the Suburbs, where “McCastle” windows raise
their faces to the power lines on high,
where the swamp frogs sing in chorus, and the torches fairly blaze
at midnight, as the carpet snakes glide by …

And where the kookaburras seem to chuckle and display
amusement at the wonder of it all –
The Man Who Got the Possum is a household word today –
and neighbours wonder what next will befall!

© Shelley Hansen 2014

Great stuff, Shelley! We've had a posse of possums thundering across our roof for the last few nights. They do a high-wire dance along the electricity cable from the street and then stage a bacchanalian orgy right above our bedroom before heading back along the cable, which vibrates like a bass guitar. There's a big debate in our area about whether they're loveable, cute little animals which should be protected or destructive vermin that should be shot. Wide awake at 3am, my sympathies tend towards the latter opinion!

Cheers
David

Thanks David! Yes, I think my friend in the poem would concur with your less sympathetic view of the future health of the possum population!!! As you can imagine, for several days we waited with bated breath to hear (at the morning tea table) the next exciting episode of his nocturnal adventure! As you know, my original poem on this subject (Macca and the Possum) is on my CD - but it was fun to emulate Banjo and turn the tale into a mock epic

A side point - in the process of copying The Man From Snowy River, I discovered that Banjo was not consistent with his syllable count across the poem. It is so masterfully written that I've never noticed that before. This is not a criticism (who would dare??) - just an interesting observation.

Cheers, Shelley

Well done Shelley. That reminds me of a book I used to read to my kids Shelley - There's a possum in the house! They can be fierce creatures.

Heather

Excellent story and well told Shelley - Good for you. I like Possums and if you run into Glenny you should ask her about the Possum in the roof that croc mustered. He too gave his orders definite and firm.

This homework exercise has proven to be a bit of fun

might want to fix the typo in there - descending

Thanks for the nice feedback Maureen and Heather - and thanks Maureen for the typo pickup. It's fixed now

I agree Maureen - homework this week has been fun. May I ask you a question - when you give us a list of prompts, are we supposed to use all of them in a poem (as I did with the "garage sale") or are they simply an "inspiration trigger" ... or is it altogether open and optional?

Regards, Shelley

You’re right about the metre, Shelley…from a strictly technical point of view, The Man From Snowy River is all over the place. But, perhaps surprisingly, that’s not unusual in traditional verse. For example, two of the most memorable poems in the English-speaking world, Blake’s The Tyger and Wordsworth’s Daffodils, have irregular syllable counts. Maybe it’s because poems back then were usually passed on by word of mouth rather than read, and it’s relatively easy to accommodate such variations in a performance.

We’ve had lengthy discussions about how to deal with this in written bush poetry competitions, which have had pretty strict rules, and there’s no simple answer. Basically it comes down to a judge having to decide whether the poet understands metre and is in control of the rhythm or is merely taking a stab in the dark. Quite a challenge sometimes! If we take Paterson’s first stanza and simply look at where the first strong stress in each line falls we get the following:

There was MOVEment at the station, for the word had passed around
That the COLT from old Regret had got away,
And had JOINED the wild bush horses - he was worth a thousand pound,
So ALL the cracks had gathered to the fray.
All the TRIED and noted riders from the stations near and far
Had MUSTered at the homestead overnight,
For the BUSHmen love hard riding where the wild bush horses are,
And the STOCKhorse snuffs the battle with delight.

From the first 3 lines you expect the stress on the third syllable, but in the fourth line it’s the second. Then it’s third, second, third, third. The next stanza is different again, and so on. But you don’t notice when you’re hearing it.

It’s interesting to see that you’ve tidied things up in your version by keeping the lines to 15 and 10 syllables, with the first strong stress on the third syllable in the long lines and the second syllable in the short ones…well done! Is this what Paterson intended? Who knows? And does it matter?

Cheers
David

I think Banjo just wrote as a spoken word and we tend to read to much into counting silly bells and stresses.


Bob

Bob Pacey wrote:we tend to read to much into counting silly bells and stresses.

Go for the free verse then Bob, you won't have to worry about silly counting.

I think that if we choose to work in a formal construction we need to gain some control in that form. Only then, I think it is valid to subvert the "rules". In other words departure from the strict formal design should not look like clumsy mistakes, it should look like tweaking for the sake of expression.

I was a bit bemused by David's comment that Paterson's Man from Snowy River is technically " all over the place " does this mean that Paterson's poem would end up on the reject pile in an ABPA competition. How preposterous that would that be.

No, Neville, not preposterous. If a competition is governed by ABPA rules and those rules say that metre should be "consistent throughout", then what does a judge do if the metre is inconsistent throughout? You might think it's a wonderful poem, but a decision has to be made based on the stated criteria, and the poem may have to be assessed against others that are also evocative, but in which the metre is perfect. Decisions have been criticised in the past where poems with loose structures have been given awards. Of course, if the rules are relaxed, then judges have greater scope to allow for flexibility.

But, as you say, "...departure from the strict formal design should not look like clumsy mistakes, it should look like tweaking for the sake of expression." However differentiating between those two possibilities can be hellishly difficult, and, as I've said several times before, judges can't get into the poet's head to find out if variations are just "tweaking for the sake of expression". Decisions will often be based on the number of irregularities and, in the case of TMFSR, there are heaps. Exactly what is the "formal design" of TMFSR? I can see two distinct alternatives. It will sound like heresy, but if we ignore the iconic nature of Paterson's poem, I reckon it could be argued that he was guilty of "clumsy mistakes". It'd be an interesting debate to have! Maybe he just wasn't too fussed about being absolutely precise and let the lines flow as they came to him. Nothing wrong with that, as long as a judge isn't confronted with making a decision based on strict criteria! The metre is quite easy to 'fix', and Shelley has shown one way of doing it with her parody. (And sorry, Shelley, I don't want to hijack your thread, but you've raised a contentious issue.)

Cheers
David