Long Shearer Poems

Remember it just like yesterday 
'Twas the sixth of August, independence day
Manley called the election, Busta took the drive
New nation at UN assembly, Jamaica arrived
Topsy turvy, hurly burly, brick brack, nick nacks
All this wondorous excitement
Ever...

Read More

Now With Increasing Darkness O'erhead

Bleating at the rain, the despondent sheep
Their days and nights aching in blinded sleep;
Til masters, their dominated lives take
With true evil, which they never forsake,
For greed and lust demands taking it...

Read More

I could recall some years ago
The day that sealed the  deeds of the deal
And dot the long journey  of nine months
In my calendar of the years
The same brought about the cry 
That started...

Read More

“And you call yourself a bloody cook”, this mongrel shearer said.
“I oughta ram this rubbish down yer’ throat, it’ll kill a bloke stone dead.”
He’s talking ‘bout the stew I burnt, which I hoped he couldn’t...

Read More

In a land of endless saltbush stretching miles across the plains
Of western New South Wales where it rarely ever rains,
And the temperature is searing on a soil that's living hell,
Where bleaching bones remind you of...

Read More

By Robert (Bob) Moore (©2015)

The gun shearer has gone now, like many other things
the shearing sheds are empty, and wools no longer king
gone now like the drover, and the brumbie on the plains
but we still...

Read More

"We are the wandering wonders forever readying ourselves until our next show and we will be even more spectacular than any of our previous performances where we shall not only marvel at ourselves, but we...

Read More

Ronald was a tough old ram, the biggest of his breed
Daniel was a clipperman, renowned of shearing deed
Many sheep were sheared that day and woolless they had fled
Before those two met in affray and battled...

Read More

Last night I took a thought travel.
Across the land of my past.
Weak soil and slippery grounds
Thorns, thistle,
bends and curves.

I could see myself wasted away.
Blinded by my passions, desires.
Ambitions and the things I longed to acquire.
My...

Read More

There is a story from Renmark in the Riverland
Of a man in the bush as his legend began
He was a shearer from New Zealand in the Depression
Who came to Australia in the 1920s for shearing...

Read More

Dirranbandi  plonking

27Australians and a shearer came to bash Bronco Don in 1945
He was just back from Kokoda killing Japs to stay alive
Some carried beer bottles and others 2 handed sticks
I was in hospital being...

Read More

Come visit us under pink tinged twilight skies..
among boughs borne under a song laden tree. 
In fair view of land, meadows green coiling rise,
one hundred twenty counted souls, and me.

The older children play, running in...

Read More

A phosphorus attack
                                ...

Read More

Lucifer is his name, 
Full of wisdom and perfect in beauty 
Dazzled with brightness like a burnished gold 
Holy and undefiled, he was first of the covering cherubs, precious and magnificent. 
Stood beside the great...

Read More

Waltzing Shearer

Out near Dagworth Station during 1894
Where the Waltzing Matilda, Swagman drowned,
Cos he liked them lamb chops nicely browned,
He was only eating the Masters sheep, scoffing em down,
Disgusting said Squatters and frowned, some more,
In 1894,...

Read More

Are the exploits slowly fading of the folk who forged this land?
Are there more important factors, today for us to understand?
Are we prepared to lose our national character?
Erase our borderlines, and forget about Australia,
where squatter...

Read More

Philip heard an angel say,
“Now rise and go!”
And so he rose and went;
He did not know
Whom he would meet
Along the road that day.

Ahead,
An Ethiopian,
a man,
Riding in his chariot,
Coming from Jerusalem,
An open scroll in hand.

So Philip...

Read More

All the praises you pick along the streets
Go confirm before a new-bought mirror,
And if those rare glories you all find true
Then know she’s near that beauty shearer.

Who’s time, the unerring author of loss and decay.
And...

Read More

Luck Rides A Stick Horse
Written: by Tom Wright
7/8/2006

If luck is what you’re counting on
A stick horse will always be your steed.
Choose God and a job to rely on instead
Not Casino’s or lottery to fill your...

Read More

The elephants and asses are battling again.
To maintain power over the masses.
We the people, on the verge of colossal collapse.

These beasts (of a forgotten Eden). 
Have ceased working for (we the people).
They've forgotten virtue and...

Read More

Uncle Les

My step grandfather was uncle Les,
Gun shearer of wooly sheep, he was,
Travelled the country, yes I says,
 and at crutching, He was beaut,    

false teeth of gold his mouth did hold,
just...

Read More

There’s no one here; break the mirror
God alone is, the all there is 
Love and light is the true shearer
Sparking in heart, rapture’s bliss fizz

The path is easy, make thoughts slow
There’s no one here; break...

Read More

Beside the green and flush meadows, Lies a pen of sheeps, grazing around the green grass, where the kind shepherd lives. 

Wandering in the nearby hills, I found a wooly sheep, 
Hasn't been sheared for...

Read More