ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

Lobby Holes and Butterfly Nets

I reach back to a childhood; another time and place.
It’s photos cached in albums of my mind.
Where sun filled summer weekends set my eager soul to soar.
Where sparrow hawks and thermal winds combined.

The images I conjure fill the long hours of my night.
They return me to a calmer day and time.
A time of languid wanderings cross clover covered fields;
beneath a sea of close hauled clouds sublime.

And there I find a carefree world of dignity and grace,
where I venture; nothing scheduled planned or reasoned.
Sustained by whim alone, I tread the pathways of old roamings;
a veteran, practiced, battle scarred and seasoned.

There are trees to climb and stones to throw; lobby holes to plunder.
Butterflies to chase through morning haze.
Treasure chests to seek, on sandy sun bleached beaches.
Gold to find in gullies; trails to blaze.

Lost photos are reprinted in the darkrooms of my memory.
The skies are always blue; the grasses green.
I see friendly faces; smiling eyes; neighbours over fences.
Everywhere a portrait so serene.

And the pictures move to soothe me. To calm my sleepless hours.
Until my thoughts surrender to the night.
And the images dissolve. Return to times when they were born
And my soul awakes to one more morning’s light.

We can't go back there though can we ?

No we can't Neville but memories can still be sweet and pleasure giving. Spending too much time with them is probably not healthy for most of us, but my dad lost his sight at about 80 years. With family help he was able to stay in his home until 90. He told me once that he was lucky his memory was so good as it allowed him to relive much of his life. He considered this to be somewhat therapeutic. Regardless, my poem was pure fiction.
Wazza

It might be pure fiction Wazza but it really strikes a chord, plus for me the added post about your Dad is very touching and enhances the poem. I've read this three times over and really enjoyed it - I think we can all relate to this as wandering down Memory Lane to such times is always a pleasure.There are some beautiful lines in this, like:

'Where sparrow hawks and thermal winds combined'
and:
'A time of languid wanderings cross clover covered fields;
beneath a sea of close hauled clouds sublime.'

I love the last two lines as well. Really lovely poem Wazza!

That's very kind Catherine. Thank you.
Wazza

"photos cached in albums of my mind"

The poem has a lovely feel to it Warren. I like the above line.

Heather

Thank you Heather.