ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

Thank you for your guidance Maureen.

I am wanting to return to that which I refer to as the 'Isolated Outback', but probably too late now.

This which follows, is one from my Amblin' Australia Collection -

Wise ol’ Coolibah.

Standin’ on a river bank watchin’ times pass by,
your shape is ever changin’ as is the distant sky,
from a young and splendid sapling more than a century ago,
you have seen some mighty changes which many can not know.

Tuned to a turbid river, tuned to her tidal flow.

You listened to her silence, you listened to her news.
You heard her gentle sighing and heard her point of views.
She brought you need for wiseness, she helped to make you strong,
listen to your river, listen to her song.

Tune to a turbid river, tune to her tidal flow.

Back in 1770 when times were hard and tough,
you heard about a sailing ship with crewmen very rough.
You heard about a captain who sailed to come and look
for a beautiful southland country - you know his name was Cook.

Tuned to a turbid river, tuned to her tidal flow.

Fast floods they came and soon they went, to make way for the drought,
swiftly flowing waters, tried to pull your roots right out,
while dry times sapped remaining strength but still you had to grow.

Tune to a turbid river, tune to her tidal flow.

Your form became grotesque, malformed, it was forever change.
Decades passed and seasons went through times eternal range.
But still today you’re standin’ there, your leaves nod - as if they know.

Tuned to a turbid river, tuned to her tidal flow.
I listened wisely to your thoughts in tuned, in timed tableau.

(c).Rimeriter. 2006.
Revised 3/2012.

This has a lovely languid flow to it Jeff like the river rambling on by. There is much to like in it.

Did wonder why you went from 4 to 3 lines though in the last part?? Just a thought here yours to use of lose - what about if you moved that last line up and and then almost but not quite echoed it - the constant refrain works well IMO


Standin’ on a river bank watchin’ times pass by,
your shape is ever changin’ as is the distant sky,
from a young and splendid sapling more than a century ago,
you have seen some mighty changes which many cannot know.

Tuned to a turbid river, tuned to her tidal flow.

You listened to her silence, you listened to her news.
You heard her gentle sighing and heard her point of views.
She brought to you her wisdom, she helped to make you strong.
Listen to your river, listen to her song.

Tune to a turbid river, tune to her tidal flow.

Back in 1770 when times were hard and tough,
you heard about a sailing ship with crewmen very rough.
You heard about a captain who sailed to come and look
for a beautiful southland country - you know his name was Cook.

Tuned to a turbid river, tuned to her tidal flow.

Fast floods they came and soon they went, to make way for the drought,
swiftly flowing waters, tried to pull your roots right out,
I listened wisely to your thoughts in tune, in timed tableau.
Dry times sapped your remaining strength –you continued to grow.


Tune to a turbid river, tune to her tidal flow.

Your form became grotesque, malformed, continuing to change.
Decades passed and seasons passed through times eternal range.
But still today you’re standin’ there, your leaves nod, like they know.
Tuned to a turbid river, tuned to her tidal flow.

I listened wisely to your thoughts - admired your timed tableau.


Cheers

Maureen

Good effort Jim. The use of a refrain is a good poetic device, I think, sort of ties things to-gether.

Just a " technical " note, are coolibahs to be found beside tidal rivers ??? sorry to be pedantic, I just wondered.
I was at Bourke when Fred Hollows funeral took place. he requested to be buried beside a coolibah tree, and so he was.

I visited his burial site, along with Jack Bourke the Tall Tale Teller.

It is as you know, within the local cemetery, can't say I noticed a Coolabah nearby.

Fair enough. I thought I remembered a big tree close by the grave. I might have had a touch of the sun. The best part was when Fred's kids jumped in the car and spread red dust all over Paul Keating's designer suit.

Mate, i didn't mean to infer that there is not a Coolibah nearby.
Maybe I just did not notice it.

Crikey, I would have enjoyed being there for the 'red dust rodeo'.
How did PK react.

The then PM remained very dignified, as far as possible.