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BUDGERIGAR by Beck, Sidney

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The Best Budgerigar Poems

Details | Budgerigar Poem |

Sunrise Breaks on a Morning Camp

It’s been a long day beneath hot sun,
with sunset looming and daylight done,
came across water with a stand of trees,
deep in shadow with a zephyr breeze;
a perfect place to camp for the night, 
joined by galahs in the fading light,
with swag rolled out near a cooking fire,
heating up a damper and then retire.

Stars like crystal light the outback sky,
way out here they don’t seem so high,
Dingoes howl beyond a red sand dune, 
a mopoke hoots ‘neath a silver moon.
And through the night as I try to sleep,
the night feeders either call or creep,
could there be a pig or a kangaroo?
maybe a camel or an old emu.

Sunrise breaks on my morning camp,
The sky is lemon and leaves are damp.
I poke the ash and I grass the fire,
add kindling and the flames reach higher.
I hear the call of a warbling wren,
a butcherbird and a water hen.
There’s nothing better than bird song,
by a campfire near a billabong.

The billy boils for a cup of tea,
bacon and eggs sit upon my knee,
already the thermals are in the sky,
a wedge-tailed eagle is soaring high…
passing by with babbling words,
is a feeding  family of apostle birds,
all quite content to stop for a chat,
as long as I feed them bacon fat.

Sunrise has lifted on my morning camp,
the suns’ in the sky, now nothing damp, 
I roll my swag and I douse the fire,
with the campsite left as it was prior
for the budgerigar and the cockatoo,
or a flock of redrumps passing through.
I won’t see them for I’m on my way;
perhaps next year on another day.

Details | Budgerigar Poem |

FAMILY DAY OUT

with the sun blazing hot
we set off in the car
with the kids and the dog
and the budgerigar

with a bit of a rush 
we're at the seaside
where the air's fresh and clean
and there's donkeys to ride

on the large sandy beach
we've a perfect picnic
with the sun beating down 
the time passes quick

with the sky turning grey
we expect it to rain
with haste we pack up
then we set off again

with the dusk drawing in 
we are back from afar
with the kids and the dog
and the budgerigar

Details | Budgerigar Poem |

Budgeri Jim

BUDGERY JIM
About the 1880s Joe came to the Hebel area...
He passed by an Aboriginal camp...
Saw one sick man a lying there..
Bad food gave him the cramp..
Poisoned Joe thought, so they purged him..
castor oil in, to make him well...
With a touch of Epsom salts, so grim...
But sickness grip still held its spell...

The Witch Doctor came to the rescue...
Said "too much white man's tucker you eat"...
Sucked the badness out from his navel....
Spat blood and froth, not so sweet...
Witch doctor had been spitting blood...
 a bite made in his own mouth...
He then spat out the bottle cap...
sauce bottles were lying about...
greedy fella too much tomato sauce...
spoke the Doctor with a sly grin...
you swallowed the bottle cap, like a horse...
cured you are now Budgery Jim....

Budgery rose and stepped, oh so lightly...
As only the Aussie native can....
Just like a young emu just might be ... 
No death song for Budgery man....
Don Johnson

Budgerigar ...good bird ...
Budgery fella  good fella...

Details | Budgerigar Poem |

Witch Doctor & Budgery Jim

BUDGERY JIM
About the 1880s Joe came to the Hebel area...
He passed by an Aboriginal camp...
Saw one sick man a lying there..
Bad food gave him the cramp..
Poisoned Joe thought, so they purged him..
castor oil in, to make him well...
With a touch of Epsom salts, so grim...
But sickness grip still held its spell...

The Witch Doctor came to the rescue...
Said "too much white man's tucker you eat"...
Sucked the badness out from his navel....
Spat blood and froth, not so sweet...
Witch doctor had been spitting blood...
a bite made in his own mouth...
He then spat out the bottle cap...
sauce bottles were lying about...
greedy fella too much tomato sauce...
spoke the Doctor with a sly grin...
you swallowed the bottle cap, like a horse...
cured you are now Budgery Jim....

Budgery rose and stepped, oh so lightly...
As only the Aussie native can....
Just like a young emu just might be ...
No death song for Budgery man....
Don Johnson

Budgerigar ...good bird ...
Budgery fella good fella...

Details | Budgerigar Poem |

BUDGERIGAR

BUDGERIGAR


Yellow green and a blue nose bump, 
Came in a small paper bag
From a big bag of  four,
Far from the warm southern sun 
Streaming from Uluru to Lake Eyre, 
And the distant salt scent of Spencer Gulf.


An excitement of yellow
A climax of chirping twittering then
Drinking  a nearby lake  dry. 
Enjoying cool breezes down from the hills
On a  cricket-loud   night
Under the Southern Cross.


His home is with us now - a warmth of yellow,
A solitude of tears  - welling and uncried.
A windowful of dampness
Obscures the smell of Spencer salt,
Swinging trapeze is not pomegranate trees
And their seeds of red pearls.
Clock tick silences the kookaburra laugh.
The clock  is  wrong  -
Even the seasons are reversed:
Summer crickets are now winter icicles.


A frozen heritage -
He can outfly a diving falcon  
But wire bars replace his southern stars. 
No memory of swaying in swelling 
Clouds  a million strong.  
A plastic mirror shows him he’s a bird.


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