IN MY FATHER'S NAME

[Glenny Palmer]

This poem won ''The Rathdowney Heritage Festival'' comp back around Easter time. The organisers have not posted the results here, although they did submit same to Wally Finch's Newsletter. I applaud Geraldine & Jim's commitment to our craft because they also did quite an in-depth analysis of why they chose my poem as the winner. This attitude & effort is what I would dearly love to see embraced by all event organisers. I have been very keen to see this posted on our site, as I think it will be a great help to all who wish to succeed in written comps. I have posted that critique below the poem, & also in ''General Poetry Discussion.'' I do hope you enjoy....
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The emergence of ‘swagmen’ in Australia, many of them returned servicemen, was largely attributable to the then government’s disloyal mandate that each man must present at a different town for each welfare installment.

“IN MY FATHER’S NAME”
© Glenny Palmer 2004/adapted 2010

There was only one more case to go, the last of my Dad’s things,
the sad, once treasured fragments of a life.
I’d sorted all the others in amongst my grief last night;
browning photos, and a broken pocket knife.

There were pennies and a sixpence in an old tobacco tin,
and a union card stamped “1949”;
the Rising Sun from off his digger’s hat, brass buttons too,
and a lock of baby’s hair, (had it been mine?)

Then a worn newspaper clipping fluttered faintly to the floor
with a photo of a swagman…it was Dad!
The headline called him ‘hobo’, but I knew that label wrong,
for he’d worked like hell since he had been a lad.

This story of my father and so many other men
imprisoned by the mandates of their time,
was laid out there before me, and I share it now with you,
for this legacy is yours as much as mine.

It was just a fleeting snapshot then, this photo of my dad,
‘though down and out, his eyes still flashed with pride.
His threadbare trousers served him still with rope tied for a belt,
and a loyal but hungry heeler matched his stride.

From his shoulder, stooped from slogging an existence on the land,
swung his tattered swag, the wages of his toil.
His weary feet through ragged soles cursed bitumen beneath,
and yearned the talcum touch of red plain soil.

For his liberty was taxed by shameful mandates, drought and fire;
his blistered hands and heart the grim reward;
and there, against his grit and grain, in foreign town he sought
salvation, in the place that he deplored.

His weeping wife with baby at her breast, and on her knees
implored her god in prayer the days throughout.
She struggled in the small slab hut; he struggled in the town,
both pining for a future bound in doubt.

And I wouldn’t take a wager on which one was more bemused,
the faithful hound or master, at their plight,
for a man surrenders freedom to the city’s callous crush,
as sure as day surrenders to the night.

For the boss man shook his head, “No work, try further down the track...”
(each time he asked the answer was the same).
“…here’s tea and flour to see you out, the best that I can do,
and some scraps for that old dog that’s going lame.”

And the hundred times he asked a hundred miles or more he tramped;
a hundred lonely hours from home and hearth,
‘til the western track gave way to concrete, bitumen and steel,
where he’d not before trod such a painful path.

He was one amongst the thousands, just one pebble on the sand,
that the tides of time and history washed away,
but his footsteps echo loudly in our proud and promised land,
for his courage he bequeathed to us today.

It’s that courage in our countrymen from swaggie through to boss,
that nourishes the spirit of our land.
It’s woven in the fabric of a history steeped in toil;
from the hardship we learned how to take a stand.

‘And stand we must, together’, he had told me, ‘now, today,
for times are changing, sadly for the worse.
The rise of evil threatens creeping closer to our door,
and we need to shield each other from this curse.’

‘Yet how does one defend the whole?’ my trembling heart implored;
‘what consequence from one man standing tall?’
He’d pressed on how our fathers stood, in war, one at a time,
‘The strength of one, my son, forged strength for all.’

I dried my eyes and gathered up these fragments of his life;
these fragments that are sacred now, to me.
I closed the timber shutters and secured the rough hewn door
he’d fashioned with his axe, when I was three.

I lingered at the gateway, humbled by the courage shown
by men who’d fought the burden of their age,
and mused that each is father to a son who lives today;
a son who’ll make his mark on history’s page.

And in my reverie it struck that I’m that father’s son,
that son who’ll fight to keep Australia game;
that son who guards the legacy our forebears gifted us
for generations… in my father’s name.
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The Written Competition
Our approach to your feedback will be two- fold, firstly to
critique the winning poem and then to give you a few
comments about your own poem/s.
It’s a very good process to see the winning poem, that’s
where we can learn the most.
A brief critique of ‘In my Father’s Name’ written by Glenny
Palmer from Theodore Qld.
1. Alliteration: Glenny used a lot of alliteration- two or
more words close together with the same letter or sound
that helped to get our attention e.g. ‘Tobacco tin’; ‘brass
button’. The alliteration at times went hand and hand
with meaning e.g. ‘threadbare trousers’; ‘hungry heeler’.
It also helped to create feeling e.g. ‘blistered hands and
heart the grim reward’ and movement e.g. ‘fluttered
faintly to the floor’.
2. Rhythm: The poem moves quickly with good metre and
rhythm and you feel the swagman moving from place to
place and you also get the sense that you are moving
through his life story. The alliteration also joined the
rhythm and helped to propel us along.
3. Word usage: Glenny used many feeling words to
describe her father’s hard life e.g. weeping; pining;
painful; struggled and ragged etc. The words chosen are
strong and powerful, but tragic. e.g. ‘blistered’; ‘worked
like hell’; ‘stooped from slogging; implored her God’;
‘place that he deplored’. The poem cleverly outlines the
difficulties and the pain of a generation after the first
World War. Glenny also used words and phrases in fresh
ways which helped to keep our interest by creating
wonderful images e.g. ‘ragged soles cursed bitumen’;
‘talcum touch of red plain soil’; ‘courage nourishing the
spirit’ or ‘that’s woven in the fabric of history’
4. Grief theme: Glenny mentioned her grief, the human
process we go through when we lose something or
someone we love, but then she cleverly dealt with the
stages of grief by externalising them in the poem... by
reflecting on a few relics from his life, Glenny pushed us
along with her images so we could feel with her, the guilt
because a generation had to work so hard, the blame
aimed at a government that created the laws of the time,
the enlightenment where we learn from their lives, and
the resolve to carry on the lessons learnt, so it won’t all
be in vain. This was so very cleverly done.
Well done Glenny!
If there is a criticism, perhaps it’s just an opinion......perhaps
a poem like this can sometimes be overlooked because the
themes are so complex....we had to take time to be able to
come to the understanding we have now.
Bush poetry is often much simpler not as much work– So we
were in two minds that a poem with a simpler theme/story
would be a better choice but in the end it was Glenny’s poem
that won the day and the money.
She truly is a poetic craftsperson extraordinaire!
Gerry King and Jim Tonkin.

[william williams]

Very very good Glenny with that you diserved to win and a good example of what the judges look for

Bill the old Battler

[Glenny Palmer]

Thank you Marty, & Bill me old china. This was a real ''problem child'' of mine. It took 8 years to finally be born!! I must have done a half dozen re-writes before it finally behaved itself & could be trusted out in the world. Just goes to show that persistence wins out.
Did you think the critique helped you at all? I was really hoping it would.
Cheeers
Glenny

[william williams]

Yes Glenny it sure did. It answered some questions in a much clearer way

regard sis catch you later Bill the old battler

[mummsie]

Genny...what a beautiful piece of writing, I was enthralled from start to finish and like the judges I could realy feel for the character.
Thank you for sharing the critique- I have taken so much on board reading this, so much so that I have printed it off and kept a copy near my writing desk. It's a piece I know will be referred to many times. Your a gem!!

Cheers
Sue

[Maureen K Clifford]

totally agree with all the above comments - 8 years Glenny even elephants don't take that long.

The critique was very good wasn't it - certainly gives some food for thought


Glad to see you back on line, I was getting worried - hows's the reno going???

Cheers

Maureen

[Glenny Palmer]

Thank you all for your great feedback & kind words. I am so pleased that this critique was helpful. Perhaps I should send it to our Keats baby for the mag?
Sorry I don't have time to reply individually. Croc is not well & we are waiting on test results, so the reno is a tad slowed at present. Also I got hogtied in Brisbane with Grandkids & pregnant daughters for an entire month!! during which my car blew up...literally..& cost me $1200....whaaaa!

Anyway, enough whingeing.
Bless you all...
Love Glenny

[Neville Briggs]

Great work Glenny. I can't take this one in, in five minutes, I'll have to spend some time on it.

[Terry]

Hi Glenny,

First of all congratulations on the win.

A great story, beautifully told and written.

And thanks for posting the critique, it contains some excellent advice.

Regards

Terry

[Robyn]

Hi Glenny,
Adding my congratulations as well, as also many thanks for posting the critique, it is really helpful.
Robyn