Long Outback Poems
Long Outback Poems. Below are the most popular long Outback by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Outback poems by poem length and keyword.
I love my country
My people
Family
And friends
Thou I find
A need
To isolate myself
To protect them
And those
I wish to love
I love the
Locations
I place myself in
Those far
Distant ranges
Open wide
Outback plains
And deserts
Deep
In rain forested valleys
Among waterfalls
Beneath dripping leaves
Golden sand beaches
That are far too long
To walk
With headlands
And there tragic
Stories
Where there are
Only three
In the bubbles
I create
Myself
Nature
And the spirit
Of our land
An Elder, Uncle
Said to me
“It talks to you, because you believe.
In return, it believes in you.”
Its voice
Is a subtle as
Summer breeze
Warning chirps
Of a bird
In that tree
The shadows
Of a moon lit night
Its smile
The colours
Of drought
Of rain
Crisp
Blue skies
And storm clouds
As black
As flaming thunder
I appreciate
The offers
Of refuge
But this land
Is my land
Tis part
Of my heart
My soul
Good or Bad
I take it
In stride
And will see my days out
Upon the soil
I was born
Remember
I put up a fight
Against
Tyrants and tyranie
As I fought
For my people
My land
And hope
Knowing
I was outnumbered
Did not matter
Because
I care
In the heart of the outback where the wild breezes play,
Lived a Swagman with dreams, and a heart on display.
He roamed through the valleys, under wide open skies,
With the stars as his blanket and the moon in his eyes.
Hitching rides on the highway, just a thumb in the wind,
From town to town, is where his journey did begin.
With a swag on his shoulder and a tune on his lips,
Each mile was a story, each moment a glimpse.
He wandered through markets, where laughter would ring,
In the hurry of people, his heart found its swing.
For amoungst all the travel, the dust swirled around,
He stumbled on love in a small, sleepy town.
Her name was a melody, sweet as a stream,
With a smile that could light up the darkest of dreams.
They met by the old wooden hut beqneqth a full moon
In a moment of magic, the world held its tune.
They danced in the twilight, ‘neath the whispering trees,
With the scent of the blossoms carried soft by the breeze.
Together they laughed, shared stories of old,
In her warmth and her kindness, he found purest gold.
But the road kept on calling, and the journey must part,
Yet he carried her laughter deep into his heart.
With every new hitch, every sunset so grand,
He felt her beside him, holding his hand.
So the Swagman kept wandering, with love as his guide,
Through mountains and valleys, with the stars as his ride.
For in every horizon, and every time the sun goes down
He found bits of her spirit, as he traveled from town to town.
He stepped down from the stagecoach kicking dust up with his boot
He stood a while, he lacked a smile, his teeth gripped his cheroot
His Stetson it was thick with dust, his guitar case was too
He looked around this downbeat town; found no man that he knew
He’d travelled to this lawless town of which he’d gotten word
Two preachers vanished here before, but he won’t be the third
For he had brought his guitar which, to praise the Lord, he plays
And when he strums those guitar strings, the congregation sways
Had this town been a Wild West town, he’d know which way to go
But how does one say ‘Hotel’, here in outback Mexico?
A man in a sombrero, three armed sidekicks in his wake
Sauntered up and told him to be gone for his own sake
“Hey, Cowboy, we don’t want no Gringo, messing up our town,
Take yourself and your guitar before we take you down.”
The preacher said, “I’ll play for you and if you love the tune
You’ll point me to the chapel and the rowdiest saloon.”
He’d travelled to this lawless town of which he’d gotten word
Two preachers vanished here before, but he won’t be the third
For he had brought his guitar which, to praise the Lord, he plays
And when he strums those guitar strings, the congregation sways
He reached down for his guitar case, the Mexicans took aim
And with a little slight of hand, the preacher did the same
But nothing grins as wide as when a bandit thinks he’s won
And when four guns are facing one the job’s as good as done
So was it skill or was it God who played a helpful part
When each of those four bandits took a bullet to the heart
The sheriff, if you’d call him that, said, “Have you got a name?”
The preacher said, “I’ll tell you Sunday if it’s all the same.”
The sheriff, having none of it, said, “Tell me who you are.”
He said, “I’m just a gringo with my god and my guitar.
But men of God preceded me and got no help from you.
So clear your desk, I am not me… I am those other two
He’d travelled to this lawless town of which he’d gotten word
Two preachers vanished here before, but he won’t be the third
For he had brought his guitar which, to praise the Lord, he plays
And when he strums those guitar strings, the congregation sways
Friday evening flight,
A touch of urgency,
Changi Airport Terminal One.
Check-in smoothly,
Baggage and all,
A trip Down Under.
Three souls plus one,
Baby in tow plus three adults,
An outback escapade.
A commercial air flight,
Departs near eleven pm,
A journey far away from here.
Baby knows best,
Snuggles and sleeps,
Enjoy the flight with attitude.
Six thousand miles,
To kangaroo land,
High above the clouds traverse.
We feel unease across the miles,
Bear with the far stretch,
Crisp moods to match.
Singapore to Melbourne,
Disembark for stopover checks,
Catch another flight.
Domestic flyaway,
Brief burger meal,
Jumping Jack's respite.
An hour away,
Melbourne to Canberra,
Arrival at last.
Watch who comes to fetch,
Two fathers, two sons,
Two mothers, two husbands.
The baby awakes now,
Squeals briefly cute,
Sonic boom percolates.
Car ride to the house,
Edge of suburbia,
Neat assorted houses.
Unpack luggages,
Takeout Chinese dinner,
Fatigue funds sleep.
Too much excitement,
Weary souls slip, slide, sleep,
Fatigue frames feisty food.
Leon Enriquez
29 April 2018
Canberra, Australia
Sending the tending to an unfriended ending,
yet somehow suspending from rending a newly offending recommending.
Logotype monotype linotype,
overripe stereotype,
teletyped an unripe heliotype.
Guttersnipe snipe,
stipe snipe ripe,
a wipe type a tripe,
unleash a withering hype.
Dip snip,
nip lip,
slip skip,
rip the apple pip
over a battleship Chip.
Clip,
airstrip,
blip,
scrip,
gyp,
flip,
dip.
Unsip, blue clip,
A warship, weathering stick.
To miche an itch,
to stitch a witch.
Rich a quitch,
Hitch a flitch.
Gabrilowitsch,
the grand son of a *****!
Pitched a ditch to flitch a niche.
Made a rich hitch lich.
The Thia tie thy tried to untie an unshy,
Spied a sny sty,
He ascribed a bribe tribe,
to dib drib, lib and sib.
A death pale,
dwaled and engrailed,
enjailed and bewailed.
The cocktale turned into a,
ginger ale stale.
A hobnail.
A pale kale.
The whale waled
a veil of wail.
The stale air,
railed the quailing sale.
Dipped the snip,
to pip the tip,
and baled the avail,
to the flailed snail.
Attract extract reenact,
saddle backed and subtracted,
the tact the pact
an unmistakable fact.
Swag the unsage,
the wage of the tutelage.
A coffee break
a bit of a cornflake
cupcaked the cake of the devil's flake.
Draked the fake fruitcake,
and hake the jake on the mellow lake.
Mistake the overtake.
A pancake sheik,
cried spake of a toothache.
Ack Ack!
Back, Bootblack Jack.
Pack the Pontiac rack,
sack the Hackensack,
hijack the leatherback.
Offtrack the outback,
rack the sack,
smack the stack,
stickleback the tictack track,
to the umiak Union Jack.
Twack the whack yak sack,
A mystical one eyed zodiac.
Bready a speedy,
deedy the weedy,
Reedy to leedy.
Unheedy indeedy.
Leda, Vida, Theda.
Sketched an etch,
itched a hatch.
So speechless,
breathless,
toothless.
The socialist,
the communist,
the theorist
the terrorist.
Bedded the bedding
in a dreadful beheading.
Weeded the weed,
leading the lead,
tended the teed.
The ready read,
the reedy reeded.
The seedy seeded.
The end is Ending.
The hegemony of height
gets too much.
The city robs me of the horizon
and hides it behind towering
cathedrals of concrete and glass.
Even trees conspire to fill
the gaps and extend their
leafy reach to obscure the sky.
I long for uninterrupted distance,
horizontal vistas of the open sea
and the flat, unfenced expanses
of the inland with its views
to infinity. Something in me
seeks wide spaces, craves
room to breathe, imagines
sparse outback plains punctuated
only by the height
of dust devils wandering
the vastness that stretches there,
lifting up the silence
in spiralling columns of prayer.
OLD MA.
Old Ma always gave the kids a nice treat
Always nuts and never anything sweet
But they soon found out why
Nuts were in great supply
Choc nut bars she'd only suck cos no teeth...
NO HIDING PLACE.
An old gangster robbed a bank and he ran
Flew out from Canada then onto Japan
The Mounties tracked him down
In old Tokyo Town
He was caught cos they always get their man...
A WARDROBE MALFUNCTION
Went to a posh restaurant called Vicars
A girl walked out the loo, there were titters
Her face turned a bright red
At what's every girls dread
She'd gone and tucked her dress down her knickers...
DOMINATRIX.
A dominatrix from the state of Maine
Enjoyed hanky panky out in the rain
She'd use a leather fetter
T'would shrink as it got wetter
And her clients would pass out with the pain..
A FRIEND IN NEED.
The outback two mates went to catch a 'roo
One got cut short and said "I need the loo"
A spider crawled up his knee
As he was starting to pee
And bit him hard on his digeridoo...
His mate phoned the flying doctor who said
"Suck out the Poison if it has turned red"
He thought to himself no way
His mate said "well what's he say?"
He said "in 'bout half an hour you'll be dead" ...
LOST THEIR WAY. For Gershon Wolf
Geese flew south they were honking and hinking
Snow storm came they were blinded and blinking
They had no way of knowing
Where the hell they were going
To see them sway you'd think they'd been drinking...
Written 21st October 2020.
Leaping over nettle bushes,to clear becks and streams
picking fruit from orchid trees, children in our element and dreams.
Building dens in rainy woods,our warmth and shelter clear
raindrops dripping from oak leafs,like a shedding tear.
Swaying cornfields upon the old farmhouse,animals grazing
an overall panoramic view, outback Eston Hills so amazing.
The summertime offers such, an array of beautiful sights
from the hares dancing the fields,to kingfishers in flight.
North sea a mere stone throw,from the pastures that i dwell
calm waters see children building sandcastles,boats tossed violently when it does swell.
Fishermen unload their catch,seagulls lurking for a feed
the high pitch cry babylike,scraps for the need.
Captain Cooks` birthplace, named Great Ayton Village
a very proud community,sporting a collection of spillage.
Of his treasures and necessisitys,held in Stewart Park Museum.
Attracting visitors far and wide,to get a chance to see them.
In wintertime when the cold and snow does test
hanging out the nut nets,for the robin red breast.
Also the animals, so vulnerable alike and rare
building pole houses, for their warmth and care.
Paul beadnall.
Sponsor Francine Roberts
Contest Name a Nature Tale.
7/10/11.
give it away
give it all
all for what
all for nothing
nothing you bet
nothing yil get
get out there quick
get lost in a ditch
ditch ya wife
ditch ya dog
dog won’t miss ya
dog'll piss ya
ya think yiv got it down
ya haven’t been down under
under what ya say?
under what ya pray?
pray it ain't worth a zack
pray your honey aint outback
outback’n the wild roo’s nestin’ kick
outback and back again he’s slick
slick and kicking for a noice steak
slick and mad as a cut snake
snake’s got death in his bite
snake’ll ruin a weddin orright
orright’cha got two seconds tah think
orright your seconds gone yeh in a stink
stink in heaps
stink the dunny rat he is
is you thinking in the wild to slack off
is you ready to rack off
off to the waters in a hurray mate
off to the sandy slates run clean
clean as a bottler at sea
clean as ya ever can see
see here we all left our lives
see this is where we feel alive
alive in the wild far from the loo
alive away from the crazy blue
blue sea soppin the sand around
blue surroundin this land we’re proud
proud in the danger of ever
proud to amaze whoever
whoever ya meet
whoever ya see
see chance give it a burl
see um tackle the crock in a curl
curl on his back is a good going off
curl in his teeth yiv gotcha limb torn off
off!
off!
For the Down Under contest
Sponsored by: Debbie Guzzi
*Don’t think I did this quite right! Though it was fun to try anyhow ^___^
It starts as a thought,
a troubling notion far out
on the extremes of distance
making room for a lifetime
to occupy the intervening space.
Seasons come and go -
wildflowers ripple colour
across wide open plains
and inland rivers exhaust
into a shimmering heat haze
beneath an outback sun.
Fruits ripen and vines rush
to swell their sweet bounty
before the savagery of frost.
Love blossoms, grows, matures
into a silence, gathering all
that has been spoken
into an offering to transcendence.
Candles are lit in the crevices
of the soul.
It comes finally,
swallowing distance -
a whole lifetime -
and you stand paralysed
within your own sense of being,
powerless in the cross-hairs
of its sure aim.