Aussie Bush Poetry and how it inspires a nation.

Submitted: Saturday, Jul 16, 2011 at 21:17
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This is my very favourite piece of Aussie Poetry, and it was written by a young woman, at the time, away in England, who was yearning for her home on the other side of the planet.

My Country


The love of field and coppice,
Of green and shaded lanes.
Of ordered woods and gardens
Is running in your veins,
Strong love of grey-blue distance
Brown streams and soft dim skies
I know but cannot share it,
My love is otherwise.

I love a sunburnt country,
A land of sweeping plains,
Of ragged mountain ranges,
Of droughts and flooding rains.
I love her far horizons,
I love her jewel-sea,
Her beauty and her terror -
The wide brown land for me!

A stark white ring-barked forest
All tragic to the moon,
The sapphire-misted mountains,
The hot gold hush of noon.
Green tangle of the brushes,
Where lithe lianas coil,
And orchids deck the tree-tops
And ferns the warm dark soil.

Core of my heart, my country!
Her pitiless blue sky,
When sick at heart, around us,
We see the cattle die -
But then the grey clouds gather,
And we can bless again
The drumming of an army,
The steady, soaking rain.

Core of my heart, my country!
Land of the Rainbow Gold,
For flood and fire and famine,
She pays us back threefold -
Over the thirsty paddocks,
Watch, after many days,
The filmy veil of greenness
That thickens as we gaze.

An opal-hearted country,
A wilful, lavish land -
All you who have not loved her,
You will not understand -
Though earth holds many splendours,
Wherever I may die,
I know to what brown country
My homing thoughts will fly.


Dorothea Mackellar
--------------------------

Henry Lawson and Banjo Paterson have written much to inspire us as well, but IMHO those words pretty much give us all the inspiration we need. I know our diggers overseas keep this close to their hearts as well.


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Reply By: Member - Michael and Chris (QL - Saturday, Jul 16, 2011 at 21:22

Saturday, Jul 16, 2011 at 21:22
Simply beautiful
AnswerID: 460125

Reply By: On Patrol & TONI - Saturday, Jul 16, 2011 at 21:29

Saturday, Jul 16, 2011 at 21:29
©Roderick Williams 2000.

Travel the Red Road - dare to dream
From the eastern shores to the opal seam–
That weaves down through the red earth deep
Out in the heart in a timeless sleep.
Below the ground or above the trees
Where the western wind at its restless ease-
Whispers the stories far and wide
From the Barcoo’s banks to the big Broome tide.

Travel the Red Road, stop with me
Beneath the spread of the Wilga tree-
As night comes down from your head to heal,
Through all your body and mind you feel
the force, that comes and never lies
As naked under the naked skies-
You sit till the stars burn in your soul
And lay you out in your blanket roll.

From "The Roper" down to the sweeping shores
Where the mighty Southern Ocean roars-
Where Aurora's colours change the sky
As flashing and flaming on they fly.
Then hurtled back from the dazzling sights
To the stony ground and the "Min-Min" lights-
Where we'll not know if we can’t see-
Where we belong in the mystery.

Skimming the tops of "The Great Divide"
From north to south down the eastern side-
The Gibraltar Range and Hanging Rock
To the plateau heights of Nowendoc.
Drifting above the Tumut trees
We rise with the sharp Talbingo breeze-
Through the chill of the Kosciusko night
And follow the Snowy's Southbound flight.

The sounds of the ancient ocean roar
From the caves beneath the Nullarbor-
To Augusta’s crystal stalactites
Then up to the dazzling floral sights.
The world's most precious flower display
Would cheer a heart on the saddest day-
Colours and styles that breed at will
It humbles me, in silence, still !

The Brolga's dance on the western land
By lakes and swamps on the coarse red sand-
The black swan’s glide on the Lachlan Reach
Then preen themselves on the inland beach.
The setting sun in a backdrop bright
Five hundred pelicans trail in flight-
Across the blazing western skies
It’s painted forever on my eyes.

In the channel country the poppies grew
A humbling sight in that startling view-
With a man who had waited fifty years
From the saddle we saw his joy and tears.
For the rain had come and the heat was right
Creating Paradise overnight-
In silence grown men gazed in awe
To the four who dreamed it was heaven’s door.

The dust blows up and in my eyes
From "The Mulga Scrub" I have seen it rise-
High in the air and it blocked the sun
And none knew why and none could run.
It lifted o’er the land so free
And drifted across the Tasman sea –
Rich red dust on a crisp white bed
It turned the snow on the mountains red.

Oh, heart of a brooding weathered land
Beating for those who understand-
But, bleeding because of those who don’t
And dying because of those who won’t.
Fragile, special and sacred place
If we care about her we must face
the task at hand and the cancer halt,
Or watch her drown in a sea of salt.

In firelight glow at the Bulloo’s bend
Where the sickest soul can heal and mend–
Like a steady flow of Muscat–wine
Where the spirits meet and their hearts entwine.
And dance with the tree-tops in the light
Like diamond tips on a moonlight night-
Bitterness gone and the anger too
With an ancient robe, it will cover you.

The "Red Road" runs through every heart
And it beckons you to make a start-
Wondering whether you will decide
To take that long enduring ride
Come; lay your swag by the Sandalwood
When the air is fresh and the feeling good-
You are welcome with your heavy load
Stop and dream by the long Red Road.

AnswerID: 460126

Follow Up By: Fred G NSW - Saturday, Jul 16, 2011 at 21:43

Saturday, Jul 16, 2011 at 21:43
O P & Toni, that is beautiful, I hadn't read that before, and I am saving a copy. Almost a modern day translation.

Thanks.

Fred.
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Follow Up By: Member - Heather MG NSW - Sunday, Jul 17, 2011 at 19:06

Sunday, Jul 17, 2011 at 19:06
Hi On Patrol and Toni,

I love it too..thank you.

Regards,

Heather
Of all the paths you take in life, make sure a few of them are dirt. John Muir

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Reply By: Member - Warwick D (SA) - Sunday, Jul 17, 2011 at 18:12

Sunday, Jul 17, 2011 at 18:12
Greetings all, you can add as much poetry as you like, its terrific. This poem comes as close as any.Warwick
AnswerID: 460217

Reply By: Member - Vince M (NSW) - Sunday, Jul 17, 2011 at 18:52

Sunday, Jul 17, 2011 at 18:52
Its tradition that when we camp at night beside the fire out comes the Australian bush poetry, ballads & other verse book & everybody young & old Must have a go to say at least 1, at first some are hesitant but every body gets into it.
On a recent trip at bendeathra a bunch of rough looking young guys & girls asked if they could join us & by about 1.30am had read most of the book (thanks to the battery in the little book light going flat) the next day they came over with a bottle of Bundy rum & said thanks they had had a great night & normally they just get drunk, One said who would have thought that the next bit of camping gear he was going to buy was a poetry book, no doubt I'm gunner get some flack but it was also going to be he's new tradition too.
AnswerID: 460227

Reply By: Member - Vince M (NSW) - Sunday, Jul 17, 2011 at 18:53

Sunday, Jul 17, 2011 at 18:53
Its tradition that when we camp at night beside the fire out comes the Australian bush poetry, ballads & other verse book & everybody young & old Must have a go to say at least 1, at first some are hesitant but every body gets into it.
On a recent trip at bendeathra a bunch of rough looking young guys & girls asked if they could join us & by about 1.30am had read most of the book (thanks to the battery in the little book light going flat) the next day they came over with a bottle of Bundy rum & said thanks they had had a great night & normally they just get drunk, One said who would have thought that the next bit of camping gear he was going to buy was a poetry book, no doubt I'm gunner get some flack but it was also going to be he's new tradition too.
AnswerID: 460229

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