ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

Final Muster
© 2012 Manfred Vijars

Oh my - splendidly sad Mannie

My Dad used to call the Nursing Home - God's waiting room - I guess he was right. They always seem to me to be soul destroying plaes devoid as so many are of animals.

Which is why we all should take our craft to respite centres and such.

The light in their eyes and smiles gives as much back to you as you give out.


This one bit looks odd Manfred "and aching knees."


Perhaps singular might work better " stiff back or aching knee "

Cheers Mate

Bob

I agree Bob. We have a small music group here at Singleton that visit a nursing home. I sometimes do a bit of poetry reading with them.

The other thing Manfred, that your piece reminded me of, is that there are people like that who have stories that no one records and will be lost when they go. I don't know whether you got this from a particular person Manfred, but maybe we should try and talk to oldies like this and turn their stories into bush poems. The Australian poet Roland Robinson did just that with aboriginal stories that he collected. He noted on his poems the name of the person who was the source.

I enjoyed your poem Manfred. Had you been challenged to write a piece just about nursing homes, you could have ended it after the first verse, which I read several times for the way it reads and for what it says. Both of my parents ended their days in nursing homes. I have vowed that it will not be the way I trip out.
Wazza

Bugger ya's all. I will entertain the others in the Nursing Home that the kids put me in. Until then, I do not wish to know about their existence!


Neil

There's many an old stockman spending the last of his days in a bush nursing home remembering those times you describe thank for the memories mate

bill the old battler

Thanks Manfred. Your poem reminds me of an old gentleman I knew from Tumut who ended his days in a nursing home in Wagga. He had dementia but also lost a leg to diabetes. His wife was terribly distressed that he was in the nursing home but Jim was as happy as larry - he got to spend every day flying and fly fishing - he was where he was happy.

Thank you all for your kind comments.

It's rather ironic, the piece is primarily about an old drover, but I see so much of my Dad (an old 'Reffo') in it ...

Here's the original poem Wazza, I'll post the resultant lyric in the lyrics section.

Poems seldom make good lyrics, as they can be verbose and the artist tends to trip over the words.
Translating from a poem to lyric is a distillation process - dumbing down if you will, and you can't be too precious about your words ...

Hope this helps ...