kevy the big red male kangaroo
impressed the girls with a manly woo
out to set hearts on fire
wore his best bushie attire
as he blew on his didgeridoo
wally the hairy nosed wombat
was very hairy, round and fat
waddled when he walked
loudly screeched when he talked
and friends with a nosy numbat
kerry the cuddly koala bear
sat in a tree just to eat and stare
saw the swirling-coloured lights
a feral hippies delight
so-how much can a koala, bare?
kelly the laughing kookaburra
though she was grown up and matura
made a lot of ha ha
with gary the galah
in their gum tree home near mildura
emily is a fast running emu
her funny strangeness just grew and grew
amongst all the bushland folk
subject of many a joke
when her feathers started turning blue
.....................
Jan 26 is Australia Day-to all Aussies, happy Oz day
I’m a very early riser - the first settler’s
alarm clock you might say-
If you haven’t heard my native name
Wiradjuri guuguubarr- That’s OK
you would know me as a Kookaburra.
You’ll often hear me laughing with my kinsfolk
from treetops to greet the morning
Then at day’s end we bid it a fond goodbye-
with a jovial, raucous chorus.
You could mistake it for human laughter
but it isn’t imitation- we’ve been laughing this way
since the beginning of creation.
I have a diet that will often make people shudder.
I can eat a 3 foot snake and then go looking for another.
I stun it first by dropping it — then whack it on a tree
And then, believe me — I swallow it — carefully.
I blend in well with the bushland
bark brown and dappled shades
You can’t see me in the gumtrees—that is
until my laughter gives me away.
Bumblebee
b u m b l e s
bushland
Second Place Contest Winner
Written: July 7, 2021
In Just A Few Words 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joseph May
A long ago, during warm midsummer-nights glow worms reminded me
That constellations in the sky were not the only bright specks,
I’d run my life checks
Irregular but stern
As if I were a dying drifter
Who throws rocks left and right
Of the long railway of life
As if marching uphill rugged Brumby bushland
For the last stand
To defend not only the fragile Earth’s crust
One providentially stands on
But also to withstand the tastiness of madness
The present provides in filled up Phoenician stone vases
That were resting on the bottom of the sea
Until the lungs of young divers
Brought them back to the surface
Right into the nexus of our lives
Like a gong of a cosmic time system
With the purpose of timing heart beats
Of the living,
And the decay process of the dead.
Aesthetically the battle might have been pleasing
In the realm of morbidly catatonic reality
In the end, it turned out to be
Just a slice of the vintage Hermelin
Often served in the Central Bohemia
Where big breasted waitresses know very little
But compensate with the Karamoazovian smiles, so well.
Terra firma, I stand on, I battle on.
free-roaming feral
Australian mob of brumbies-
Snowy River man
Close 'round the crackling fire we three,
with sweet acacia in the air -
tell stories of Gallipoli
and digger's bond of friendship there.
We laughed and shared like family
with roof and walls of stars our home -
tracker Wiley, Henry and me
on highland edge of bushland dome.
But now across the outback trail
away from Henry's place of rest,
near to where he fell and failed
with bloody head against my chest.
We slowly lead his faithful mount
through clear streams where spirits flow
and tales the bushman mates recount,
the final sail of mateship souls.
The bright lights of the city
Have lured me away
From bushland plains and mulga scrub
from plains of rich red clay
Away from the serenity
to noise and toil and strife
To pay the bills and cure the ills
of living city life
Into a world of buildings
and people crowded round
of cars and fumes and airplanes
a world of ceaseless sound
I long to take my swag again
into the far outback
To walk the trails and feel again
the sun upon my back
To make camp by a billabong
cook dinner by a fire
Lie back and see the stars at night
then silently retire
But here I sit beside a screen
a keyboard and a phone
My time belongs to someone else
my life is not my own
Down below the city sprawls
around and out of sight
But in my mind I'm wandering
my fantasies take flight
And once again I'm on the road
not knowing where I'm bound
I'm off into the wilderness
somewhere I can't be found
From my PDF book "Bush Ballads and Bulldust"
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"
A track leads through a gully in the bushland
Following the least line of resistance in a haphazard plan
The kookaburras and the magpies squawk happily away
The sun on my back makes me want to stay
Walking to the rock face broken on the gorge face
Two wallabies look our way and away they race
A creek flows through glistening in the sun
The day exploring is heaven easily done.
© Paul Warren Poetry
Have you walked the bushland trails?
With Banksias all around
And whiffed the scent of rotting leaves
All scattered on the ground
Have you walked with sand beneath your toes?
Amidst the seashells lining beach
Your hair all blowing in the wind
As salty air your mouth does reach
Have you lifted up your face?
And felt the snow-flakes on your skin
The feel of this is oh, so great
As Autumn dies, winter comes in
Isn't it great to be alive?
With so much beauty on this earth
To smell the flowers in the morn
As new day it comes to birth
To take the time to dream awhile
By winding rivers and bushland trails
Lacy ferns line rivers edge
And reeds grow tall to cast a hedge
The sun filled hours of a summers day
Makes me feel so happy and gay
With the smell of the fragrant balmy air
And the cooling breeze blowing through my hair
So take the time to wander down memory lane
When you take time to dream again
I passed by Old Man Banksia, a wonderfully gnarled tree,
While trekking through the Jamison, a bushland pedigree,
I saw the broad leaf of the Geebung, with its yelow frill,
The distant sounds of Katoomba Falls with its water spill.
Suddenly excitement grew, new noise, a whipping sound,
Its shrilled call pierced the air, the unbelievable was found,
A lyrebird with all its beauty, elusiveness personified,
Stood before me tail flared,my mouth was open wide.
It was clawing in the leaf litter, with insects being found,
Its ornate, opaque tail swished on to the ground,
It hopped around in the mulch, paused then moved on,
I was waiting in anticipation for another whipping song.
My encounter was a brief one, for as soon as I got near,
It decided to fossick elsewhere without the risk of fear,
But I had seen this ancient animal with vocal chords unique,
The world's greatest mimic, its repertoire so complete.
Excitement filled the bushland as December was near
Every creature had been waiting for Christmas time - all year.
Wallabies hung their stockings on a gumtree branch with care
Just as all nice children do – everywhere.
Meanwhile those more up to date logged on the internet
sending E mails to Santa to see what they could get
Koalas draped high treetops with shiny garlands green
And furry possums lined their dens in golden glitter sheen
Wallabies joined in with bright balloons hung on their tails
All the crows tied streamers, cascading from the rails.
Kookaburras’ laughter changed to Christmas songs
While magpies and peewees piped along in throngs.
A wombat and a bandicoot made honeysuckle punch
The parrots came too early and drank’ til they got drunk
And when the’ Magic Pudding’ came to help with Christmas Dinner
His taste was so delicious he left a trifle thinner.
With a Kangaroo as Santa, his pouch stuffed full of cheer
hopping ‘round the outback in the hottest time of year
Just guess what all the drovers got- lots of ice-cold beer.
Suzanne Delaney
For Children's Christmas Poem Contest for Carol Eastman
Wrenched from bushland
To London Zoo, they labelled you
“Jumbo” – fed you by hand.
African Wonder! You were feted,
Reduced to spectacle,
Humorous vehicle,
And otherwise humiliated.
Submissiveness turned to rage;
Branded dangerous;
A threat to all of us! –
And so condemned to Barnum’s cage.
Now your sad name’s applied
To all your related
Who’re captured, subjugated;
Dignity, majesty: all denied.
Rainforest, sparkling white sand
And friendly country towns
Man eating crocodiles
Outback and Darling Downs
The awe inspiring Barrier Reef
And tropic Moonlight nights
Bushland animals and solitude
The heat the earth ignites
Rich brown earth and floodlit plain
Earth’s bounty here we sow
Sugar cane, Wattle and Blue gums
Paradise untamed aglow
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