ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

THE OLD SLAB HUT

To span the Hunter River, there's a bridge
with clean and modern pre-stressed concrete forms.
Where once the drays and sulkies rolled on timbers,
b-doubles growl and mining traffic swarms.
Just past the bridge and off the busy way,
a side road wanders through tree sheltered lanes.
And there, the spotted gums and ironbarks
stand kindly watch over old time's remains.

A rough made hut is not the sort of thing
that most might notice in their driven rush
these days. It could be just another clapped
out pile of useless clutter in the bush.
The roof is clad with iron sheets that have
eroded into shabby russet scales.
The door and windows covered up with bits
of roofing iron banged on with rusting nails.

Straight as they were the day the walls were made,
grey thick cut slabs stand side by side, and could
hold firm in any storm that tried to breach
that palisade of weather seasoned wood.
It must have been a warm and cozy place.
The cookhouse chimney lasted well with rock
and roofing iron construction. Rigged up wide
enough it seems, to suit a family cook.

But no-one comes and no-one stokes the fire
and no-one sweats and toils to make a home.
And there's no sound of laughing, talking, crying,
now no-one's there to tell how it was done.
It's sixty ks per hour across the bridge,
but up the track, old greying timbers croon
a gentle muted counterpoint against
bright sunburst clusters of blackwattle bloom.

Lovely, Neville, and nice to see 'russet' taken out for a spin. It spends far too much time indoors these days.

Neville this is delightful - I love it and what a great sketch as well.

Totally agree with Stephen's comment

The roof is clad with iron sheets that have
eroded into shabby russet scales.

That is inspired writing IMO

Cheers

Maureen

that poem brings back memories Neville thanks
bill the old battler

Thanks Stephen and Maureen. you're very kind.
I had to struggle with my meagre vocabulary for some things in this piece. I even had to consult a friend who is a horticulturalist so I got the names of the flora correct.

The drawing was done at the place, just over the river from Singleton.

Goodonya old Bill.

Thanks Matt. The old chinese painters used to write poems on their paintings.

You're a clever old ex Mr Plod Neville, a philosopher, writer, artist....of several kinds.. and of course, a poet!

Both the drawing and the poem are very good Neville.

Great picture in words Neville - you didn't really need the sketch. I love this poem, it conveys a sense of loss, and the warmth that was in the cottage and the world going about its business while it remains un-noticed. You've outdone yourself Neville.

Heather

Thanks Ross, I suppose the several kinds of artist includes bull.artist

Thanks Heather. I take the point about the picture, I got carried away with the "show and tell "

...that was foremost in my mind...

While I agree that you didn't need the drawing, it certainly doesn't distract from the poem, in fact I think it is a nice touch.

So lovely Neville! I love those old huts and they are few and far between. You have made this one speak to us. Thankyou.

cheers
Dot