Best Cobber Poems
The Long Drought
A raging drought is running, causing pain
Beneath the scorching sun, the barren plain
The river’s gone, she’s ceased her mighty flow
And bushland trees no longer thrive nor grow
The dams are low and dry, it pains my heart
Our town will slowly die and friends depart
No bales of straw or hay for starving stock
As more succumb each day, my dying flock
From hills of broom and land of dark”ning strife
He came to find a better way of life
The call of peaceful bush like magnet drew
In this sweet place my father’s dream came true
Beside a spread of bright and golden grain
A link was forged anew in our strong chain
Where ‘roos abound among the fields of corn
On this fair land, it’s here that I was born.
Work started for me at only fourteen
Became a sheep drover, still wiry lean
The days long an’ hard, the burden was light
The soil rich and dark, the future so bright
The farm became mine when my father died
Then came the dry clime, lost all of my pride
Long years of hard graft while still holding trust
Til lack of good rain turned soil into dust
The bank took our farm, I wished I were dead
Dark thoughts of self harm flood into my head
But senses prevail, I see them so clear
My darling wife, my young son very dear
I give you my hand, long time cobber mine
Take care of this land, it’s your dreaming time
Adieu my friends, for my time here is done
I'll pray for you all as the drought rages on.
Categories:
cobber,
Form:
Rhyme
His long cane pole limber and perfect,
Patiently waiting, his eye on the bobber
For his prey, he has the utmost respect,
The big fish almost becoming his cobber.
He’d seen it swim among the rocks alone
Unmindful of its nemesis on the bank
The water clearer, he could see the stone,
He longed to hook it firmly, give it a yank.
Four times before he’d watched it feed
Once in the rocks, thrice in the shallows
A great catch it would surely fulfill a need
To cement his place among his fellows,
But the sun now approaching mid-morn
Signaled he was too late to catch today,
Beaming on the fisherman with scorn
No prize catch would there be to filet.
Written August 15, 2022
Categories:
cobber, boy, fishing,
Form:
Rhyme
Carol Brown
Contest Name
Bunny Rabbits
Bunnys down here are a winning,
lissa virus, keeps a killing ,
man made by the blest,
to kill off this pest,
free food in the great depression,
old soldiers lived on bunny,
but the rich ground them down,
Myxometosis killed millions,
first ever germ warfare cotillion,
the master looked and he frowned,
bunny is back, an is willing,
though the rich might put him down,
the wasters want his killing,
but the Swaggies food is still around .
rabbit trap and billy
and me pocket knife silly,
and i'll be westward bound ...
thank you Robert Hinslaw, cobber mate...
Don
Thank you for my place Carol.
cooler summer is this way,
looking for autumn, shortly hey,
thank you for my prize, incidently,
sorry 4 the sadness bunn-ne ...
but it is a crime...downunder all the time...
greed for grass the rich have see...
So called Rabbit plague, when the ordinary workers were getting a quid by selling Rabbits, which incidently make the Aussie slouch hat for the Army.
A free feed was not on, it's un Australian? So the hungry drought cursed Squatter ordered a
genocide for Bunny...Without Bunny the Aussies got a taste for the masters sheep instead as in Waltzing Matilda....
Categories:
cobber, adventure, food,
Form:
Rhyme
Our internet freedoms
Say quotes?
Say Facebook pokes?
Say avatar Say hashtag,
My computer handbag?
Or smishing, dishing or instant phishing?
Our musical freedoms
Say princess of pop?
Say queen of hip hop?
The king of orgasmic rock
Who got writer’s block?
Or the Fab four, the king, say how to sing?
Our gourmet freedoms
Say double whopper with cheese?
Say double quarter pounder please?
Say 12 piece meal with 3 sides
Cheese burger with fries?
Shrimp toast, shrimp egg, shrimp halls, or shrimp balls?
Our television freedoms
Say you think you can dance?
Say a geeky romance?
Say Australian idol
Or celebrity survival?
Got talent, Bogan hunter and the struggle street punter?
Our literal freedoms
Say greenie?
Say bluey?
Brickie
or schoolie?
Cobber or dobber or jaw breaking gobber?
Our medicated freedoms
Say candy man cartwheels?
The back alley deals?
Say ripped with ice
When you name the price?
Knocked out with the burnt out, washed out, drop out?
Our freedoms were cried for, died for,
Romanticized, and politicised for.
They’re songbirds, they’re poets, and dark night sky comets.
To be questioned and spotlighted not hidden unsighted.
They’re sublime with a rhyme for all your lifetime,
To be sung from the tongue of that defiant young.
Categories:
cobber, freedom, poetry, pride,
Form:
Rhyme
Dropped out of whap five, hyperdrive is fried and so am I. Cruised through
a seven eleven, picked up some goodies for me mates. Bottle of Jack Daniels
Black for me British mate Paul Beadnall, lovely coconuts for me Aussie
mate Don Johnson nutter on planet forty two. Hit the atmoshpere of
planet forty two, things gettin hot my fantasy ship is falling apart. I'm in trouble
need a rescue before my goose is cooked and I become cosmic dust.
Sent out an SOS ...---... on all frequencies to me mates. This is old Jack
cobber, I'm in trouble pick me up please on the double. All systems off line, I
was about to panic, when they came into view. Don's trusty old Sunderland
so thrilled to see. Beamed me on board, and I said thank ya me maties!
Handed Paul his bottle of black Jack, and Don his lovely coconuts.
I said pour me a stiff one Paul to calm me nerves please. I said Don
if you don't mind, keep your Coconuts in your pants please. I was just relaxin
when a giant Mother ship from planet forty two popped into view
Don said that thar be a big mother nutter old cobber Jack, and me
and Paul agreed. Don said bring er around Paul, We're gonna crack this
mother nutter. I looked at him with panic written on my face, he said no
worries mate. I've made some modifications you'll see they're great. He popped
up a puter screen, had a red and blue button. He pushed the the red one
and the puter said launching all torpedos brace yourselves please. Torpedos
lit up the inky dark space, Don chuckled and said take that you alien
buggers. His aim was true, huge flash mother ship cracked like a rotten nutter.
Paul laughed and said switch to auto pilot to his purter, let's drink a toast to
victory maties,we should be back to the Soup in a light year or two.
Categories:
cobber, fantasy, mother, me, old,
Form:
Prose Poetry
WALK THEN FALL
By James Edward Lee
Walk these cobber stone paths of unrighteousness alone
I stumble trip I fall all onto the diverse grounds covered up
with the dust, gravel, concrete, and dirt that surrounds us all
Categories:
cobber, blessing, endurance, engagement, poetry,
Form:
Sijo
I have a couple of internet Friends in Australia
We like to joke around some, so I wrote them this,
To the tune of "Talk To The Animals" (Dr. Dolittle)
If I could talk to the Aussies
just imagine it
Babbling to a Bloke, in Blokaneses
Imagine Bantering with Bludgers
Chatting to a Cobber
What a neat achievement that would be
If I could talk to the Aussies
Learn all their dialects
Maybe get an Aussie slang degree
I'd study Cone Toad and Dag
Galah, Dill and Bag
And of course Ab-bor-rid-gin-e
I would parle in Punter and Piker
And would curse in fluent Kangaroo
If i'm asked , "Can you speak 'Banana Bender' "
I'ld say "Both Genders, can't you"
If I could talk to the Aussies, learn their languages
Think of all the things we'd disagree
If I could walk with the Aussies
Talk to an Aussies
Slang and Bang and hang with an Aussies
And they could Slang
and Bang
and Hang
with Me !
Categories:
cobber, humorous, international,
Form:
Light Verse
The old cold war bird still is on guard,
though the Ruskys aint a threat,
they must have built em strong and hard,
those eagles, some of the best,
guys said the ground would jump an jive,
with the bombs a landing crunch,
Aussies in Vietnam,
thought highly of this bunch,
Sounds like the old DC3, still a flying some,
Biscuit bombers Kokoda saw,
when world war 2 was won.
B52s good one cobber Bob..
Don
Categories:
cobber, adventure, war, old, old,
Form:
Ballade
John’s Limerick
a touch of the animal,
a sweet refraim,
animal magnetism at it again,
power to you lad, keep up your end,
love them ladies, be my friend!
love it cobber, John.
Russell
cute distraction of the day,
with an angel oh so cute,
fender bender heaven sender,
sweet engendered beaut ,
great poetry mate...
fairy folklore coos capture,
brings on the thought of the rapture,
drowning so deep, am i asleep,
or is Linda-Marie this chapter :)
Nancy,
Thank you little baby doll,
them 38 slugs for nongs n trolls,
wax is clear for ventilation,
sex bex n fourex my preoccupation...
sometimes..
Categories:
cobber, adventure, , cute,
Form:
Ballade
Kokoda ‘s Doc Vernon
Doctor Vernon in 1942 was in New Guinea green,
He had been there looking after the native people,
A civilian went with the 39th Militia battalion, was seen,
A hundred at a time, sent to stop 10,000 Japanese,
These boys were too young to go to the Middle East war,
400 boys and old officers, to stop the Japanese,
No machine guns, or mortar, had to use I’m sure,
10,000 enemy came up, surging up from the shore,
15 year old boys put their age up, in battle if you please,
Doc. Vernon patched em up,
Pulled bullets out of wounds
right across the battlefield,
old man, yes he was doing,
Up an down the mountains ,
and hollows in between,
60 old age bugger, deaf,
Sprang about, as sweet as kerosene,
Doc said “hold the light nearer boy”,
as a Woodpecker machine gun,
cut chaff from the hut roof , while,
Doc. Said “the rats are bad here son,”
When the Aussies drove the Japanese,
back across the mountains,
Old bugger in a blue jumper ,
Was still there to count on,
Still there with the Aussies,
To patch em up, yes son,
A hero of Kokoda ,
Overlooked by more than some.
On ya cobber, Doc. Vernon.
Don Johnson 29-aug-11
Categories:
cobber, adventure, age, old, age,
Form:
Ballade
Edsel car, Bobs poem,
Heard of em,
but never bloody saw a one,
sort of bloody albatross,
a Goonie bird a walking,
flap n flop and sometimes drop,
as the Yanks did say from Gaum ....
got sidetracked hey,
on ya cobber Bob, ....of mine...Don
Seems the Yanks Air force were having trouble,
with bloody albatross,
coming in for landing ,
when the Yanks were landing cos,
runways blocked with birds across,
a stumbling and a falling,
at goonie birds was kinda cross,
on Guam they kept returning...
Categories:
cobber, adventure,
Form:
Ballade
GOOD IDEA TO USE BOTH HANDS oops,
right hand and left ...the brain expands,
helps a poet with his demands,
two brains to understand,
imagination grand,
sometimes....
are poets ambidextrous too???....Don Johnson 10-8-11
Sponsor Russell Sivey
Contest Name Challenge - Max 8 lines!!!
1st ...
thank you Russell, words in flight,
sometimes hit the mark,
writing lets in the light,
darkness parts the sparkkk...
on ya cobber..mine
Categories:
cobber, adventure,
Form:
Ballade
It was a bright cold sunny morning
The mist lifted without warning
As we walked through the cemetery gate
It had been nearly a hundred years wait
Outside of the Ieper Menin Gate
We had come to honour you, mate
About a kilometre down the Menin road
You marched this way with your pack and rifle load
But counter battery fire had put paid to you
When you died with your mates too
And you lay so long asleep
With now a promise we did finally keep
To visit you from Australia the Great Southern land
Keeping a family promise made long ago without demand
Honouring a fallen Digger lying far from his home
In Belgium's sacred soil
"Good on you, cobber" you've finished your earthly toils.
Categories:
cobber, remember, world war i,
Form:
Ballad
Cobber from the bush.
We had the Rockers an the Surfies
Crazy wild buggers true,
I was walking down the street ,
An they said “what are you ?”
I said “I’m a Bushie, don’t be pushy
Or you’ll smell the gum leaves too,”
So I went a riding Nortons,
And the Trumpys, just a few. (Triumph motorbike)
Would ya persecute an rob me,
Said shelia,giving me a push,
I’d hold ya down an scruff ya ,
Said me Cobber from the bush.
Would ya live off sin of harlots,
Would ya think it bloody good,
Would ya skim a quid to start with,
“my flaming oath I would “.
Beatle long hair was a flowing,
And we’d catch em one or two,
Short back n side, just one side,
Sometimes fisticuffs, a blue.
Don Johnson
1960s when I came away from the bush in Australia to the big smoke.
craig cornish
Contest Name Talk That Way
Categories:
cobber, adventure, me, , cute,
Form:
Ballad
Mute Mutterings
Of Carolyns Confessions Bartender...
Pistol packing momma lay that pistol down,
as the old song goes:)
sounds like the probby was suitably addressed,
bullet in kneecap, just a little perplexed,
back in ya corner you ***** cos your next,
hold on while im sukkin me last cigarette ...
on ya cobber, mine....Don
The world is in a spiral spin,
negative needs reversing in,
is the fix another bloody war,
blood n death of millions more,
yes mankind's mortal sin...
very just and kind of words,
hope, humanity, not unheard,
every man is just a brother,
every woman may be mother,
on the healthy scale of things.
Tony, beware of the deep,
the thoughts that creep,
memory searches one,
shut your eyes n go to sleep ,
and memory canters some,
beware the deep, of thinking some...
Bob
different views, different states of mind,
what is important, to that fellow of kind,
some of the spiritual, some money blind,
kindness to all doesn't leave us behind?
Don Johnson
Categories:
cobber, adventure,
Form:
Ballade