Ringers Poems | Examples

The Quilpie Flyer

There was this little train in Queensland
Quilpie Flyer was the name
Ran from Charleville to Quilpie
Made it every day the same

It was the Daily Mail Train
With a carriage at the back
Taking Ringers and Bush workers
Who went further down the track

A small steam engine for the traction
Have to tell you it was fast
The trip sure was all action
It really was  a blast

The top speed when in motion
Maybe sixty miles an hour
Did not stop long at each station
Dropping mail, and meat, and flour

Had an unequaled reputation
As the fastest in the land
Charleville to Quilpie Station
The record sure to stand



This train ran up to the early 60s. It did the 215Klms trip, with 5 stops in two and a half hours. When it was at a station, a quick run up to the engine, and you could get a billy full of boiling water from the engine, for tea. As the train moved off,  jump back on the passenger carriage as it went past. The driver would watch you on, before hitting the acceleration.

Jillaroos Bring Jackaroos

More fresh jillaroos sniffing around each day Jake observed.
His fellow stockman nods. They like being ringers I guess.
This brings us fresh jackaroos, so it is okay by me.

The Beauty

The beauty
Of
Namatjira
White haired
Bark painter's
Of fish
Wandjina
Feathered man
Full sunset
Corroboree
Pintubi
Dancers
In watercourse 
Colours
Of hills
And rangers
Near Henbury
Or was it
Kings canyon
South
Alice springs
Dome like peaks
Of Olga's
Stark landscape
Barren
Barkly
Near Soudan
Where
Dust storms
A common hazard
The faces
Of William Richetts
In the Maelstrom
Those colours
Of time
And day
House Wife's
Bushman
Children of the
Banka, Banka
Old hats
Tin shacks
The Southern Cross
Spinning
Creaking
Just there
In the sky
A Rhyme
To its own time
Wonky
Old water tank
Those proud
Spearman
From
Emily Gap
A shared history
Not us
Them
Just the
Layers of life
Turned sideways
Like
Krichauff Rangers
Somewhere
Out west
Where Echidna
Thorny Devil
( my favourite )
Freshwater tortoises
Swimming
Crocs
Beauty
In birds
Of flowers
Palms
In valleys
Secrets
Of bushman
Ringers
Dreams
Of its people
And fading
Its
Fading
Memories

The Swinger Doors

There once was a couple of old swingers 
Whom were said to be more than just flingers 
As they swung 'cross the floors
With huge knobs, like some whores
You should have seen the size of their ringers  



Doors Poetry Contest 
Sponsor: Anthony Biaanco 
7/25/2021

Too Many Death Knells

time for midnight bells
              close this year of covid hell 
                   just then silence fell
             ringers don’t show feel unwell 
    not sick ~ rope burns ~ hands have swelled 

       
         



By 
David Kavanagh 

         Apologies for the ambivalence 
         But I do hope you all stay well

Affected Art Baby Sitter-

Flickered fingers;
Can't dial ringers;
Telephone calls;
Babies cry and crawls;

what do you do?
what do you do?
When their diapers fall?...

6/8/20
written words by James Edward Lee Sr.©2020

A Christmas Feeling

Christmas an engagement diary 
Yuletide enduringly
A snapshot of nativity
Brings such generosity

Love and joy everywhere
Carolers and cheerful ringers 
Singing into the night winter
Under lights shimmering color

While hymning with blessing
At the same time appearing 
From the heavens afar 
A single solitary star

A most moving capture 
Of energy and fervor 
To fill the part
Of christmas in my heart

Lingers With Singers and Bell Ringers

Love of God always lingers;
Heard in voices of singers;
Seen in face;
Race and place;
And in fingers of bell ringers.

Jim Horn

East of Nowhere

Somewhere east of nowhere
stands a rust encrusted shed
In a paddock full of weeds
by a tumbledown homestead

A windmill goes on turning
though the bore has long run dry
and the fence posts are still standing
where the bones of cattle lie

Here a man once fed his family
Here a wife once made a home
and children grew to adulthood
on land they called their own

Lying round the paddock
are reminders of their lives
A wagon wheel, a broken toy
some rusted skinning knives

The corrugated shearing shed
where ringers walked like lords
Is cluttered now with tumbleweeds
and termite ridden boards

No clue remains to tell us
of their fate or where they are
just a tumbledown old homestead
somewhere east of Marble Bar


From my PDF book "Bush Ballads and Bulldust"

Mells Bells

Mells' Bells.

Not far from a little town in Somerset called Wells
there's a quiet little village, that's name is Mells
the wild garlic grows in abundance there, and stridently smells
But the peace is shattered each Sunday by bells

Mells' bells, Mells bells,
Oh God they're so loud,
Those great bells of Mells
That ring out so proud.

The noise is so loud the church uses shutters,
To suppress the great volume lest the vicar's heart flutters
And to stop a misery down Radstock who complains and mutters,
And to save those in Green lane, Devizes, as it upsets the "nutters".

Mells Bells, Mells bells,
Oh how they thunder,
Those great bells of Mells,
Rip eardrums asunder.

So beware all you travelers, down Somerset way,
Lest you venture near Radstock upon a Sunday,
Best take your earplugs to wear there they say,
'Cos the Mells bells are well hell, despite what you pray.

Mells Bells, Mells bells,
They'll make you deaf,
Those great bells of Mells
Rung by ringers so deft

(c) Ian Diddams 2018

Holiday Tears

Plastic baby Jesus, little drummer boy
Decorate the tree along with Rudolph
And all the ho ho his of part time Santas
Doing time with Salvation Army bell ringers.

City parades, sparkly lights and garland.
Street candy canes all cry out, "See, were happy,
Joyous and free!" Such is the hypocritical
Holidays endured by us sidewalk thoroughbreds.

For a couple weeks you throw us trinkets,
Chocolate s and turkey dinners believing
You've done miraculous things that help
You sleep at night in your mansion on the hill.

Celebrities use the time for photo ops of
Comedy serving the rabble pumpkin 
Pie along with oily smiles of insincere
Wishes. Shut up and give me another Piece of pie!

Why do we need to be reminded about life
That no longer exists. Do you want us to cry
On our grubby clothes with gratitude? Why
Is us thanking you so important?

So, yes, I'll take your change when you
See my sign saying "I'm trying to get home.""
I'll take my change and buy the only holiday
I'll get this year. The comfort and joy of bygones.

English Trifle

An ambitious luscious wedding cake
To share with friends and family dear 
I shall happily endeavor today to bake
With the purest ingredients, nothing fake
Only the best I vow to make
It will absolutely smell devine
A taste so precariously sublime
Made with beans of purest cocoa
A heavenly scent to drive guests Loco
One side for the stunning bride
Will have roses crafted with pride
 The chiseled chin groom an iron horse
With a silver cross , of course 
Layers and layers filled with English trifle
Vanilla pudding intercepting lady fingers
hints of brandy, not so strong to stifle
Pure whipped cream  laced through this dream
Topped with shaved chocolate ringers
Red raspberries and lush blueberry
Reminiscent of fornicating an imagined cherry
Placed in proper spaces to gently rest
All the invited, super hyper excited guests
Will certainly be impressed, practically obsessed 
After they harmoniously relished the taste and scent
Of the most gloriously embellished wedding cake

What's In a Name

What's in a name

I looked at my name
and I now must confide
I found so many things
that were waiting inside

I checked all the letters
for what there could be
And sat there amazed
by the stuff I did see

There’s a hinge and a chin,
a big grin and a cheer
Cries and a siren,
some heirs and a sneer

Found resin and rings
a genie, a screen
A singer, a signer
a sire and a scene

Saw generic hens
and ringers sincere
A Grinch and an inch
and rehires right here

There’s niches and riches
and itches and rice
A sheen and a gene
and a niece, very nice

So many things
I found in my name
No time for them all
and that is a shame

But maybe real soon
when I find extra time
I’ll post a few more,
just as long as they rhyme

1/13/17 
Written for the: “What’s in a name?” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Silent One

Asylum

It’s sunny now,
It seems so cheery.
But, oh, inside
Is so so dreary. 

The bell tower rings,
At quarter past one.
The bell ringers job
Is not done. 

It rings for death,
It rings for disease, 
It rings for time.
It rings for escapees.

The officials exclaim,
“Nothing’s wrong! Why do you ask?!”
His words are slurred.
He takes a swig from his flask.

Once you’re in,
You get swallowed.
You feel unsafe.
You’re being followed.

Please, please help.
I'm living in hell. 
I hear a ring.
It’s from the bell!

My friends are dying,
I can barely speak.
These doctors don't care.
Dominique, Dominique.

Ocean Pleasure

Social Media is raving about my seafood haven.
Any ocean gift you wish is on my menu list.
It is known for chocolate bliss in any form that exists.
I should not dismiss other desserts that are hits.

Casual, tables are papered well for messy shells.
My wait staff excels in manners and menu intel.
I love that guests linger, even ignore phone ringers!
Causes could be shell-spiced fingers or the singer.

Yes, a nightly classic rock band known as “Remand.”
Built on the boardwalk, lights twinkle from the dock.
Floor space grants all my dining guests the chance
To party down, get lost in dance or pursue romance.

All seafood, chocolate, romance and dancing you want
Await your bidding in my oceanfront restaurant.
My relaxed establishment, named ‘Ocean Pleasure’,
Welcomes all to come soon and enjoy its full measure.

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