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Rena Riches Poem
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.
Copyright © Rena riches | Year Posted 2026
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Details |
Rena Riches Poem
Life
The sun climbs up with golden hands,
To wake the sleeping, silent lands.
A breath of mist, a morning dew,
The world is born and starts anew.
In cradle soft and nursery light,
The soul begins its curious flight,
With eyes that see but do not know,
The miles of road it has to go.
The childhood years are fields of green,
Where every stone is yet unseen,
A game of chase, a wooden sword,
The simple joy a heart can hoard.
But noon arrives with heat and fire,
The restless pulse of youth's desire,
To climb the peak, to sail the deep,
And promises we swear to keep.
We weave our threads of silk and wool,
In patterns jagged, bright, and full.
A thread of love, a thread of loss,
A bridge of hope we try to cross.
Sometimes the loom will snag and break,
From every choice and soul-mistake,
Yet even knots can form a part,
Of the grand design within the heart.
The storm will come with thundering gray,
To wash the easy paths away.
It tests then timber, bends the bough,
And forces us to stand our ground.
For strength is born in wind and rain,
A resilience etched through quiet pain,
Like Good Timber that learns to grow,
Where fierce and biting tempests blow.
Then comes the dusk, a softer glow,
Where weary rivers start to slow.
The frantic race for gold and name,
Becomes a flickering, gentle flame.
We sit beneath the ancient tree,
And look back at what we've seen
For life is not a single day,
Nor just the words we choose to say.
It is the rhythm,in which we walk ànd the kindness we do show
It is the courage found in letting go.
It is the act of Seeing It Through,
Whilst keep the spirit brave and true, It's the joy within every child laughter. Until it's our time has come and we move on to what's ever after.
Copyright © Rena riches | Year Posted 2026
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