ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

It's Lonely on the Forum Now...

It's lonely on the forum now. The tumbleweeds roll by.
From a distant treetop I can hear a curlew cry.
Above the clouds hang heavy in a grey and brooding sky.
At least I'm not producing rhyming couplets.

The scene inside the bar-room's guaranteed to bring you down.
The furnishings are coloured in a gruesome shade of brown.
All the residents, it seems, have checked out of this town.
At least I can't see any rhyming couplets.

The streets are all deserted. Not a buggy. Not a cart.
I'd like to make new friends, but I do not know how to start.
All I have for company, my thoughts...my words...my art...
Oh God, I miss those darling rhyming couplets!

Stephen Whiteside 29.07.2016

El Dorado

© David Campbell 29/07/16

There’s a place that they call El Dorado
that’s never been marked on a chart,
but it doesn’t stop people from searching,
still dreaming they’ll make a new start.

And the yarns that they spin in the bar-room,
when late nights are starting to wane,
tell of mountains of gold for the taking,
and riches that shower like rain.

But a wise man once said to me: “Listen,
by all means hold on to your dreams,
but that gold is most probably pyrite,
for nothing is quite as it seems.”

So I queried the source of his wisdom,
which prompted a sad little smile,
and he said: “I once married my sweetheart,
a woman of beauty and style.”

“Then the tales of the bar-room bewitched me,
and lured me to travel the land
on a quest for those fabulous mountains,
but all I discovered was sand.”

“And when finally I journeyed homeward,
that place where my love brightly shone,
there was no-one there waiting to greet me,
for she had packed up and moved on.”

“So be true to your loved ones, young feller,
don’t leave them in their hour of need,
for if loyalty cannot be treasured,
you’ll lose any chance to succeed.”

Very true, David!

I think we've all been sucked in to the age-old theory that "the grass is always greener ... " only to find that what we might be searching for is not geographical at all!

Excellent poem, as always

Cheers
Shelley

Thanks, Shelley. My mother always told me to watch out for the bindi-eye!

Cheers
David