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Brian Cosgrove Poem
Fiordland
Fiordland ! Fiordland!
The name that resounds again and again Once touched you’ll never be the same
And to her callings again I came
Her many faces now to see
Peace and tempest which one are thee
The tempest rages uncontrolled
As she displays her restless soul
Deep in my heart I love this land
Untamed, unforgiving rock and sand
Shipwrecks adorn your western shores
Your Fiords a haven from the storm
Here where we see beauty born
Among these majestic mountain walls
Rugged, romantic, regal all
That clash of land and sea
Life and death at the hands of the sea
One time home of the mighty Moose Axis deer were here let loose
In the tussock the Notornis still roam
And Trophy Wapiti call this home
Land of mysteries, Land of change
Where the weather dictates rain upon rain
Tomorrow with hope we’ll see a change
Perhaps next time when we come again
Copyright © Brian Cosgrove | Year Posted 2013
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Brian Cosgrove Poem
MOUNTAIN STREAM
Mountain stream oh! Mountain stream.
Tell me; tell me; where you’ve been.
. What you’ve seen, and what you’ve heard
And I will whisper, not a word.
You have heard the songbird’s chorus.
Dimmer now than yesterday.
Voices, voices in the ripples.
But I know not what they say.
You have known the mount in winter,
Known its steely icy grip.
Felt the rain and sleet and snow.
Tell me tell me what you know.
Of mountains high and rivers deep,
Of waterfalls and canyons steep.
Of natures calm and fury sweep,
Through mountain storms,
When no man sleeps.
I see the wonder and the beauty,
As ever onwards you do go.
But what you say we’ll never know.
As onwards to the sea you flow
Copyright © Brian Cosgrove | Year Posted 2013
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Brian Cosgrove Poem
The Mountain Hare
Happy is the mountain hare
Living high on mountain air
Oh! To be so free of care
Going here or maybe there
Times a nonsense long forgot
Rather is it cold or is it hot
A care free wanderer on our mounts
and long aware what really counts
We who slave from dawn to dusk
To achieve what turns again to dust
Would that I could stay right there
But then I’m not a mountain Hare
Copyright © Brian Cosgrove | Year Posted 2013
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Brian Cosgrove Poem
The Forest Pool
The flowing stream paused to rest
Refraining from its urgent quest
To rush ever faster at the Worlds bequest
I too watch the Forest pool
And wonder if the worlds a fool
Is it not just a bigger pool
Where can peace be found more free
Where such beauty do we see
Would not all here long to be
Beside the Forest pool
Copyright © Brian Cosgrove | Year Posted 2013
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Brian Cosgrove Poem
The Australian Swagman
Justin was a Swagman
Not by chance but circumstance
A product of his time
He carried his life upon his back
And never asked for more
Than a chance to earn a meal or two
In payment for a chore
He had no need for guidance
For he knew the road ahead
Just a nice quite Billabong
And a place to rest his head
The little fire was home
With the billy on the boil
As night fell on that Billabong
He found the peace that he was seeking
Now he’s gone down that long dusty road
And we are poorer for the loss of such as he
As another legend passes into obscurity
Copyright © Brian Cosgrove | Year Posted 2014
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Brian Cosgrove Poem
Mountain Hut
There is a mountain hut I know
Nestled away from rain and snow
I’m always welcome when I go
For we are known from long ago
Here where the trees I know by name
Where all for sure will be the same
When life is changing ever fast
It’s nice to find that some things last
The smell of the bush
The evening hush
Mighty man with humble grace
All are welcome in this place
It’s raining on the tin roof
As if I needed further proof
That sheltered here away from storms
A feeling of oneness that forms
A mountain man at home up here
That we could lose this place I fear
For future hunters, this I ask
Protect this heritage that it might last
Honouring the memories of Hunters past
Copyright © Brian Cosgrove | Year Posted 2014
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Brian Cosgrove Poem
The Demise of a Good Keen Man
The Good Keen Man was a hunter in Government employ
He lived back in the Bushland where none could annoy
He had no use for compasses or modern stuff like that.
He needed only the sun that shone upon his back
Caring not what day it was, for it mattered less
Than if the sun was shining or if the bush was wet.
You might think that he, was not so very bright
But compare your life with his, and see him in the light
That his Back Country hut asked no rent or fee
And he owned all the land that his eye could see
There were fish in the river and meat on the hill
Working not to a time clock, he came and went at will
He carried a pack upon his back and never asked for more
Than an audience of one or more, and a beer as he entered the door
He had an endless stock of stories, both true and make believe
For by his own admission, truth he could take or leave
But the world is that much poorer for the loss of such as he
For characters are fewer in this world where nothings free
Copyright © Brian Cosgrove | Year Posted 2013
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Brian Cosgrove Poem
Memories to Cherish
Down in the valley, I know an area of forest
with a small stream running by.
Dappled sunlight paints the moss covered forest floor
A quiet, peaceful, magical area.
Nature’s garden clothed in shades of green and gold
I recall this valley in early morn, white with frost,
With snow covering the mountaintops,
A surreal stillness grips the valley
Even the river is hushed
As all life awaits the warming of the morning sun.
Nature’s garden clothed in shades of blue and white
I remember a lowland riverbed, the shingle covered in
the gold of Californian poppies.
Nature’s garden here clothed in orange and gold,
An untamed reserve on this part of the plains,
Shared by rabbits, bird life and predators,
A land apart from the sterile wire enclosed fields
These plains now devoid of the character of gorse fences
And Manuka stands that once flourished here
All is not progress in our land
Copyright © Brian Cosgrove | Year Posted 2013
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Brian Cosgrove Poem
I am a Mountain
I am a mountain standing tall
All look up and admire my form
Of pristine scenes and water falls
Of life’s highs and lows I’ve seen it all
While securely anchored in this place
Watching the world increase in pace
I see life passing by and cry
For time to stop and wonder why
If life has a beginning and an end
What sort of a message does this send
We think that life is like a dream
But all is not quite what it seems
No cleansing rain falls on this mount
No refreshing snowflakes do I count
I’m just a mountain on the wall
I’m a picture – that’s all
Copyright © Brian Cosgrove | Year Posted 2013
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Brian Cosgrove Poem
The Magdelene Valley
Crisp and clear the morning comes
To the valley now frosted white.
All life awaits the morning sun,
for t’was a cold cold night.
The river hushed the songbirds still.
But the stags still roar on yonder hill.
There they will stand to claim the
right to a harem of lively does.
For this they will fight with all
their might to see off every foe.
The valley resounds to the crashing sound
Of battles won and lost.
Returning defeated a few beaten warriors
Now left to count the cost.
Of dreams of great glory.
Of strength now expended
Of acceptance of this seasons boss.
The sun has now risen,
The valley resplendent in colours
of green and gold.
Peace has returned and all nature looks
Forward to the scenes of life anew.
Copyright © Brian Cosgrove | Year Posted 2013
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