Best Lawson Poems
There's little left now, Lawson, mate, of your home by the hill,
Except, a guarding sentinel, the chimney stands there still;
To some it's just another site, for tourists passing through,
Perhaps they've never read your works - how sad, but maybe true.
Eurunderee and childhood days, please tell me if I'm wrong,
Instilled in you mixed memories and feelings, oh so strong.
Yes, monumental moments mate; the hardship and the joy.
They brought to mind old childhood days when I was just a boy.
Is that your Dad with shouldered axe and wand'ring off somewhere?
His cross-cut saw with him as well. I'm sure it's him, I swear.
The dark haired lady on the log and scribbling on a pad;
Your Mum I guess at work on verse; she taught you well my lad.
Old grandpa Albury's visiting and dons his greasy hat.
I know it's him, no other soul could ever shout like that.
The muck on brother Charlie's face. It's not Jim Nowlett's brew?
He surely can't believe that tale, 'cause none of it is true.
I see young brother Peter mate is tending cows again.
You mentioned how they liked to stray. You're right, they are a pain.
Is that a horseman riding up and pack horse by his side?
It can't be old Dave Regan. No! They told me he had died.
If Billy Grimshaw's teams passed now, his bales of wool so high,
He couldn't swear from being bogged; the bitumen runs by.
The gold has long but disappeared, though grape vines grow here still;
Red wine is known around the world; I know, I've had my fill.
I can't stay any longer mate I've got a way to go;
To join up with my poet friends, up Queensland way you know.
I'm glad though that I stopped a while to reminisce with you,
Like Banjo mate, deep down within, I saw you as true blue.
Categories:
lawson, people, brother, old, childhood,
Form:
Ballad
I am the bushland dawning
in the stillness of the morning
I am the sunlit plains
and the mighty river's flow
I'm the drought and I'm the flood
I'm the earth and I'm the blood
I'm the breezes ever blowing
where the wild pandanas grow
I'm the stockman and the drover
and I've walked this land all over
and I share forgotten secrets
that the wild ones only know
I'm the dust of outback trails
I'm the wind that fills the sails
I'm the city and the country
and the first high mountain snow
I'm the Murray River flowing
and the cattle softly lowing
I'm the kangaroo and emu
and the sunset's orange glow
I'm the Southern Cross at night
the explorer's guiding light
I'm the place that tells the traveller
that it's better to go slow
I am Banjo and I'm Lawson
I am Kelly and I'm Mawson
I am the Melbourne Cup
and the Sydney Easter Show
I am wild and still untamed
and there's beauty in my name
I am the land Australia
where the lucky people go.
From my PDF book "Bush Ballads and Bulldust"
Categories:
lawson, uplifting,
Form:
Ballad
Luke Laker locks lengthy lovely letters and lollypops in a
locker lying at lonesome lounge in learning field, linking
lake Lawson to the left of Larry`s law school.Lady Latoya a
Latina licks Luke Laker`s lollypops , looks into and reads his lovely
letters with levity.Luke Laker loses his cool,lashes and lunges
for Latoya and their lips locked in... a long lasting kiss of life,
just like licking lollypops and lemonade.
Later Luke weds Latoya legitimately in a large littoral land zone.
Categories:
lawson, life, romance,
Form:
Alliteration
Nigella Lawson
Her food my source of inspiration
Cooking up a storm of exotic tastes
A master chef on the hot plates
09-13-2015
Categories:
lawson, food,
Form:
Clerihew
Simon used to take part in motocross,
Before his bike stalled once mid-air,
When he was training on his farm land,
Which left him paralysed waist down.
He was born in 1982 on the 7th June,
And having fought back from that day,
In 2001 when he did dance with death,
He now races the Marathon T52/53/54.
He most often competes alongside Weir,
But worries about safety combinations,
Because safety issues can concern him,
And the Zika virus was a scare, quite big.
He lives in Maryport but trains in Carlisle,
At the Sheepmount Stadium to neatly chat,
With olympians Tom Farrell and Nick Miller,
Who he knows to be top athletes, class.
Dr Ian Thompson, Tanni Grey’s hubby,
Who trained this fantastic legendary idol,
Also trains Simon by propelling, pushing,
Him to muscle on further and further.
In 2015 he did brave to firmly complete,
The Great North Run, the half marathon,
When he won the silver in the T53 class,
And he works as a car mechanic by day.
Categories:
lawson, body, courage, dream, endurance,
Form:
Blank verse
PETER'S SON PETERSON
Peter’s son was rowdy Peterson
He met plug-ugly drug lord Dawson
In a raucous party
Came in "Bliss"ful Dirty
And tipped Dawson off about Lawson
SCOTTISH Mr BRIAN
Scottish Mr.Brian came from the country of Shamrock
Found a plover under cover of a clover rock
Plover clover screeched a little
And sat on a hefty skittle
Both fitted the bill as the pinball struck a cock-squawk
© Rajat Kanti Chakrabarty
15 October, 2014 21:55:43 IST
Categories:
lawson, fun, nonsense, drug,
Form:
Limerick
I panicked as you touched and I touched as you laid.
I knew no longer I would be afraid.
Blushing and sweeping my feet wrapped with yours, hushing and weeping out
of love, as we closed the door. Tickles and kisses while sleepy and weary, prickles
and listless, my sweetie so cheery. A love so divine lasting throughout all time, as our bodies lay entwined, oh my love, you’re all mine. Sweet whispers from my darling, my lover in the night. Our heat’s flames starving, there’s no other for the delight of my sight. Caution to the wind as you desire my every move, my dear Lawson light my fire, as we sway to our groove. Eager and waiting and hungry for your thirst, you’re my feeder while we’re mating and spunky while submersed. Is it infatuation and lustful or lovely romance? Or imagination while trustful willing to take a chance? Can we continue this affair without hurt or damage? Or is this just a new breeze in the air full of flirt and baggage? I see your eyes as they gaze at my lips, I am free from disguise all these days under the eclipse. I feel the need of passion when lying in your arms, I’d steal the heed of compassion when dying from your charms.
I panicked as you touched and I touched as you laid.
I knew no longer I would be afraid.
Written By: Laura Loo
Date Written: May 30, 2016
Categories:
lawson, love, lust, passion,
Form:
Prose Poetry
[ In the early 1890's, Henry Lawson tramped to Hungerford which inspired him to
write a short story on his reflections. In the 1980's I was part of a team
connecting Hungerford to the electricity grid and write the following by way of
reply.]
You've tramped the hungry road from Bourke
Up North to border gate,
A country lad in want of work
With Gordon your old mate.
Then camped the night in Hungerford
Beside the old Paroo.
I sensed that you were not impressed,
You're not among the few.
I had a chance to work there once
To build a power line,
And saw myself what you had seen,
The privilege was mine.
The rabbits are still there you know,
On both sides of the fence;
Though myxo slowed them down a bit,
They're now not quite as dense.
Two pubs have been reduced to one
Still on the Queensland side.
The store is but an old shell now,
Where cats and mice abide.
That hungry old dirt road you tramped
Now runs right through the town;
From New South Wales to Queensland, mate,
Folk travel up and down.
Town water has not changed since then,
'Tis red as mother earth,
And though folks there are used to it,
I gave a bath wide berth.
Post Office building stands there too,
But not the New South side,
While local law enforcers still
In Queensland do reside.
I never met old Clancy mate,
Though met a jackaroo;
When asked of work conditions there
He'd Clancy's point of view.
The houses are all much the same,
I guess they'll never grow,
But now they've got the power there,
One really doesn't know.
Your sentiment was right my friend
On how some toughed it out,
Those men who travelled 'cross this land,
Before towns came about.
No doubt someone in future years
Will pass this way again,
Who may reflect on what we saw,
And write down some refrain.
Categories:
lawson, life, people, places, write,
Form:
Rhyme
PROGRESS: Living
Newspapers and Magazines are different from the past
With the pictures words and format rearranged.
The striving and the needs of the people seem to last,
It is only sights and sounds that since have changed.
The buildings are now taller, and the walls are glass not stone.
The vehicles make more noise than horse-drawn carts.
There are super-market chains, instead of shops, that stood alone,
And sold everything from nails to apple tarts.
Mr Lawson penned his verses of the people in the city,
And saw the gutter children fighting in the dust.
He looked out on their faces with sorrow and with pity
But did not let them know whom they could trust.
Our people of all ages, still squat in doorways of the shops,
Or in great big cardboard boxes they call home.
The run-a-ways and homeless, as street-wise as the cops
Are left, with no alternative but to roam.
Silently crying, heavily sighing, struggling along on tired, dusty feet
We who have all that we need to without trying,
Can help if we don’t turn away when we meet…
Those tired and weary faces we see in our streets.
Sorrow and pity cannot shield our folk from harm,
When the need is for stability, by putting wrong to right,
Pity and sorrow does not hold any worth or charm,
Or keep people warm on cold wet winter’s nights
With taxes and excise filling States’ and Federal coffers,
All our governments today have enough to share
With all folk in need; fathers, children, mothers
Without a home, without food, wanting; needing care.
The goodness of our countries and our peoples are renowned,
For helping all in need and giving what they can,
We must continue fighting poverty, wherever it is found.
Giving, when need is present, whether woman, child or man.
© 2011 Wordancer
Categories:
lawson, caregiving, childhood, depression, family,
Form:
Rhyme
Robert Lawson claimed to be a saint
but some people said that he ain't.
He smirched them
unchurched them.
Now lives in hell a man quite quaint.
Categories:
lawson, hyperbole, identity,
Form:
Limerick
cat's tail question mark
is swishing behind the hedge
trailing lobelias
Copyright: Julian Lawson June 2017
Categories:
lawson, cat, flower, nature, seasons,
Form:
Haiku
Thomas Lawson,
A Tough Taskmaster
Haiku by: Miracle Man
4/9/2023
My grandfather said,
“never heard of anyone
dying from hard work”. ‘
Came to Oklahoma in covered wagons and 10 kids worked the farm.
Each kid had a job when old enough to work.
Categories:
lawson, farm, work,
Form:
Haiku
The Tale of the Liverpool Blitz
Mill Road Hospital took a Direct Hit
On the Maternity Ward indiscriminately killing Pregnant Women and new-born children
Reduced the City , Docks and Quarter's to smouldering ashes
Blew the Malachant into a Billion
Shrapnel pieces the quake could be
heard over 3 miles away
We even lost a National Treasure in
the form of Mary Lawson because she
never returned to the Bomb Shelter
Left countless homeless
But far more curse
Left thousands of Families bereft and bereaved
Yet the question still persists
Why help in the form of the R.A.F
Never Came
Categories:
lawson, world war ii,
Form:
Free verse
Highgate's Lawson Wood
lovred to illustrate when he could
Posters&cards with much humour
imagined scenes in caricature
Categories:
lawson, art, people,
Form:
Clerihew
H-eavenly
E-xpression
N-icely
R-elieves
Y-our
L-onely
A-nguish
W-ith
S-cribe's
O-utstanding
N-ote
Topic: Birthday of Poet Henry Lawson (June 17)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
Categories:
lawson, birthday, poets,
Form:
Acrostic