Best Damper Poems
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.
We’ve picnicked at the local park
It’s time to go, as it’s getting dark
But Lucy’s lost her small rag doll
And can’t sleep without Millie Moll
We have to find Lucy’s special toy
The roundabout doesn’t bring us joy
We search the swings, climb the slide
Please find my doll, poor Lucy cried
Tears start to drip down Lucy’s face
Her doll has vanished without trace
Rain is falling, our clothes get damper
So I go to pack up our picnic hamper
Beside the cookies I find Millie Moll
Look Lucy, here’s your favorite doll
Oh I’m so sorry mummy, guess I forgot
But she loves those cookies such a lot!
A beaming smile lights up Lucy’s face
The rain turns heavy and so we race
Along the muddy path to our front door
Lucy has her doll, she’s safe once more
The sun is burning my eyes, my hands and my feet
Harsh light scorches the ground, setting it ablaze
The heat brings out the pests and flies.
I run from sliver of shade to sliver of shade,
hoping for merely a minute of respite.
Praying that the clouds will bring relief and rain
Rain never comes day in and day out.
Every sunrise rings more and more pain
I’m wishing that there will be relief from the heat,
But I have doubts
Rain never comes and the heat never ends.
I don’t want to burn.
It never stops.
The water never stops flowing,
During the dismal gray days,
Into the pitch-black nights,
With time, they only get damper and muggier
I hope and wish to see the suns’ rays
I want to feel the light and drying warmth of the sun.
I want to stand on solid ground that isn’t washed away,
My hands are numb from the flow constantly soaking them.
I continually fight to keep my head above the surface,
Rain never ends and drought never comes.
I don’t want to drown.
I can’t feel my feet,
I wish the ice could be melted but the sun is frozen
I long for heat to visit this land,
The cold is taking me captive
I want to feel a warm sun again.
An ice wind never ceases, never leaves
Bringing more snow and cold that bites
The endless wind taunts me with memories of warmth in the summer breezes
I can’t feel my hands.
I wish for just one spark,
I pray for just a small flame,
Something to melt the frozen sun.
I don’t want to freeze.
Far away I see a glimmer of hope,
A dark rain-laden cloud in the distance
Could this day be the last of the drought?
Could it be? A break in the clouds?
Yes, a ray of sunshine in my soggy gray world
The flood’s time is over
The sun is rising on a frozen plain once more
But I hear it, hope is nearby,
The dripping of melting snow and ice
As my hope builds, it is also torn down.
The cloud is gone;
The burning, ever burning sun has taken it.
I wish I wouldn’t burn.
But it isn’t so, the clouds have closed my only hope
They have destroyed my chance of standing on land
The rain pours and floods evermore.
I wish I wouldn’t drown
It wasn’t so, I didn’t hear a true sound.
The dripping was my own heart,
With my ears wishing to hear melting ice so much.
I wish I wouldn’t freeze.
We wished and wished,
We tried and tried,
We survived as long as we could,
But
I burnt.
I drowned.
I froze.
tanka
On the edge of sleep
lulled by the rain on the roof
my fluffy pillow
whispers a telling secret
sudden damper on my dreams
written 17 January 2016
The Grey Brumby horse
Don befriended him,
as he'd learnt from old Joe White.
He trained and taught and got him trim,
and rode him with delight.
Billy Dargan, he called the grey,
Ben Hall's, Assassin's, name. .....Ben Hall was an Aussie Busranger
He often towed dead cows away, Ben never shot anyone.
ride or drive him he was game.
Dargan was his only friend,
he fed him Mulga leaves each day.
On damper and corn meat he'd depend,
starvation said he may.
At last he left the sad Box creek,
rode Dargan to the Fish Lagoon.
Found Joe was sick and the horses weak,
death waited to call the tune.
'Its not too bad' spoke the Leatherhead,...yappy grey bird in that
from his perch in the Gum tree high. lonesome place
The blind old man swore aloud and said,
'It's not too good, you lie! '
He arrived in time to save the day,
saved Joe and the horses too.
He shifted camp found grass I say,
what else could a bushman do.
by D H Johnson.
Billy Dargin was Ben Hall’s friend who led the police to his campsite and death for Ben.
How many Pieces of silver ...
Saddle old Brownie
A saddle on me old brown horse,
To ride away into the sunset,
Light swag on me old pack of course,
Nother horse called my Regret.
Carry flour for damper or tasty fried scones,
Sugar n tea, few spuds n onions,
Carry a stockwhip to flog off the dogs,
Or galahs with the loony some ones.
Camp every night by blazing fire light,
Out where the Coolabahs sway,
Dip water from the river and boil,
Gumleaf smelling tea today.
Seach for mussels at the waters edge,
Put him on the hook today,
Catch em a cod, good tucker by God,
Spit out the bones I may,
Protein n calcium hey….
Don Johnson 20-july-11
Grey clumper
Our old grey clumper horse,
bit by brown snake, bad egg,
The horse stood on him, snake struck a leg,
Grey had him pinned, stomped snake to death,
Both died, horse fell on the snake inept,
(clumpers are half draught horses, we wept)
Snake hunting, bull terrier cattle dogs, (cattle dogs eat snakeys brown)
Pull down humans goats n frogs,
***** Damper tore a brownies togs, (hide)
She lay there in the water sick,
Old man trimmed, the poison bite off *****,
Pinched up the poison, shears in hand,
Cut the poison hide to which,
Condys crystal poison fix,
And she was back a hunting,
Death adder one foot long,
Death trap, touch him, death belong,
Never see him neath the leaves,
Chicken wire, fence out, him weaves,
Step on him, you are gone!
It’s a deadly poison, nong. (dummie)
Don Johnson
Russell Sivey
Contest Name Good Luck Meal
Aussie Drover’s tucker
Build your fire upwind of the billy,
If you want it to more than shepherd boil,
Thick slabs of Corn meat n damper, (camp oven bread)
with a drop of tomato sauce,
Or corn meat fritters fried on the coals,
In kidney fat of course,
A billy full of Bushels tea,
Just sitting on a log,
And banana fried well, fritters,
Washed down with some tea or grog,
Sometimes .
On New year’s days a droving .
Although I am raising a tapir,
I don't know since when.
I don't know
where he came from or how I wound up in raising him;
I am raising him only because he is there by my side.
He is neither cute nor of amiable nature.
He doesn't sleep while I am sleeping and
feeds from the crumbs of my dreams that have fallen on the floor.
One day the tapir,
although fed by my dreams
he disappeared from my side.
My sleepless nights began from that day,
they really are an unbearable series of chaotic nights,
I was suffering from night after night of evil dreams.
Because of the countless wakeful nights,
I lost my sense to distinguish night from day; became
unable to tell myself as to real or unreal in the standing-still-time.
Wherefore I began to roam aimlessly
searching for myself just like a sleep-walker.
My ego, unknowingly, while I was lost from myself, left me
and stepped into a wasteland no one seems to have ever stepped in;
astoundingly, however, I found an abandoned gold mine
which swallowed heaps of gold diggers' dream, body
and soul standing before me open-mouthed.
Although a gallery was glowing with golden color
it was darker, deeper and damper then the grave.
And when I stepped in the gallery which seems
so feeble that it may collapse at any moment,
I saw my tapir gazing at me gloomy-eyed.
Whether he was sorry or delighted to see me again,
or maybe hated me for not coming earlier to find him;
I was glad, nonetheless, I saw myself reflecting in his pupils.
I felt I had unloaded all those heavy burdens I was carrying all along,
and because my mind became so at ease that I got into a deep sleep,
lay by his side and beat less my heart ceased.
Note: By old Chinese tale:: a tapir is said to eat man’s nightmares.
I scoot as I scatter
and toss all around,
I break and I batter
so miscues abound,
I dim and I damper
demeanors so sweet,
I hurt and I hamper
those fast on their feet,
I frisk and I frazzle
each honest days' work,
I blunt and bedazzle
the judge and the clerk,
I grin as I garrot
as your failure unfolds,
I crack like a parrot
as frustration explodes.
So, have you figured me out-
the end sting of my tale?
Not bedevil, but D E V I L !
and I'm in the details!
( Ah, yes, it's me! Ha Ha Hee Hee!)
( I love to turn you red..like ME!)
Can you hear the distant echo of the
hauntingdidgeridoo,
as it pulses through the airwaves? Yes, my friend it’s calling you.
To this land beneath the Southern Cross, it welcomes one and all,
and its drone spells out a message. Can you hear its beckoning call?
So come share our hospitality and shake an Aussie hand.
Mate, enjoy a trip down under … share the culture of our land.
It abounds with nat’ral beauty from its coasts to Uluru
and you’ll share our nation’s freedom just like we have learnt to do.
You’re invited friends to join us on a wond’rous holiday,
where the sun, our surf and golden sands are yours in which to play.
We’ve the Opera House and Harbour Bridge, The Reef and Kakadu
and experience the magic of a Darwin sunset too.
Can you hear the distant echo of the
hauntingdidgeridoo,
as it pulses through the airwaves? Yes, my friend it’s calling you.
To this land beneath the Southern Cross, it welcomes one and all,
and its drone spells out a message. Can you hear its beckoning call?
Come and cuddle a Koala, feed our unique kangaroo,
see our Emu and our wombat and our talking cockatoo.
Boil a billy, bake a damper, share a campfire’s flick’ring light,
in our vast Australian outback on a glorious star filled night.
See the paintings and the craftwork of the aborigine
and experience the stories of their dreamtime history.
More than anything you do here or wherever you may roam
we’d just like to say you’re welcome and please make yourself at home.
Can you hear the distant echo of the haunting
didgeridoo,
as it pulses through the airwaves? Yes, my friend it’s calling you.
To this land we call Australia, it welcomes one and all,
and its drone spells out a message. Can you hear its beckoning call?
Striding into the snowy fortress my tepid heart at double time
paces
Entering a pine colonnade sprouting a wintry mane, saddled with
velvety laces
Cloaked with icy needles forming a brittle, hooded trellis
Golden beams seap through the shielded parapet gilding the frosty
mantle with an iridescence
The distant peaks shrouded with the glow of satin evanescence
Following an unmarked, winding trail spurred on by an eery
prescience
My unbridled senses discharged; my tempered spirit for the
mysterious journey braces
A haunting stillness shadows my movements; stealthily my
boundary encases
Shuttered from the outside world and its vapid spaces
Where time is muted and nature's discordant rhythm races
A pristine environment where tendrils caress, limbs bristle, the cold
wind chases
A cloudy fondue swirls overhead and each spiralling steeple
embraces
Squawking squirrels prance freely on the floor without leaving any
traces
Bald eagles glide above the crenelated spires crowning the summit
with their magestic graces
A maverick-cardinal's chirps funnel through the shrouded mist,
temporarily the dreary damper effaces
A Snowy owl crests over the hollowed thickets scanning the tight
nooks and crawl spaces
White-tailed deer cautiously trek through covered thickets, matted
fields which their camouflage erases
Filtering through the blustery labyrinth, an open field the rough
terrain displaces
The broad meadow teaming with yesterday's cares my
adventurous journey replaces
Looking longingly back on my charted path, my bridled heart the
solitary life praises
Once a
jolly Drongo sat on
the riverbank,
sucking Go-anna eggs
till it brought
insanity,
oh he tried a bit of
thinking,
but his mind was
just a blank,
Fourex beer he'd be
a drinking,
But the Kiwis' are
owning that
so he chewed on some
burnt Damper,
and drank some Billy
tea,
and thought about
the master,
and his obscenity,
bloody torys on a
working class
attack,
15 thousand in
Queensland got the
sack,
sacking Nurses,
Doctors, closing
bush hospitals a
fact,
advertising lies on
tv, “we're fixing
hospitals' ole
chap,”
but all two faced
tories, do agree,
a fixing debt is
bloody good for
thee,
get crippled or
sick, you'll feel
the smack,
when Medicare is
dead? and the poor
die back!
just like the first
war slaughter,
when they killed off
humanity,
march into the nice
machine guns,
are you bloody
cowardly?
but slaughter bloody
slaughter does
attract,
the monkey morons
will attack,
for any cause they
can find, it ought
to be?
and greed is taking
over, don't you see?
It will affect the
poor tory, alas &
alack?
And the fat toads
are laughing,
laughing,
sucking cigars on
the track,
“And the rich are
getting richer and
the poor a
certainty?”
so do you like any
part of that?!?
Don Johnson
........... Drongo
is dumb Aussie bird
May Showers
Drops of rain give life to flowers born in May.
The white azalea for a time have their pure way.
In luscious ecstasy of a perfumed flower,
the gifted roses have dominion in wet hour.
Then the tulip bulbs burst forth in their full bloom.
Rain can’t damper their performance at high noon.
May showers work like hidden elves at night.
By the morning we'll have colors of delight.
They finish off the task of bringing spring around.
Trees are clothed with green array, not bare or brown.
This beauty can't be captured solely without pain.
Bless May showers for their brief and gentle rain.
5/6/17
Death and its mournful tidings
Obituaries and eulogies, read
Black ties and black veils, all in rows
Surround this shell and the open earth
The cold, damp wind sashays through and through
Memories, half a century old are lost and forgotten
A flight of geese overhead, perform a last flyover
Victory in death
Vestiges of family, say farewell and Godspeed
Tomorrow brings colder and damper weather