Messmate Poems - Poems about Messmate

...Along the road called forestry, the silver ash weeps over me as I meander 'round the dell and glade. Pass scars of sand pits long disused, where gullies, washes speak ‘abused!’ Reclamation offers ......

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...Here I sit on the stump, of a dead messmate gum, where house-keeping is poor, for the cleansed human mind; the dead is not buried, so the living survive. I see the fine balance, in a world that’s ......

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...Where the forest is still virgin and the lyrebirds often call, the bronze-wing comes to drink, and the ferns are growing tall, there are deer prints in the mud, and there’s leeches seeking prey… ......

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