Memories of Christmas Day

 to all my family, friends, and readers of my Blog, and may 2020 bring you all the wonderful blessings of a good life.

MEMORIES OF CHRISTMAS DAY

CHRISTMAS TO US ALL

COMES BUT ONE DAY OF THE YEAR,

A DAY TO SPEND WITH FAMILY

AND TO ENJOY A DAY OF CHEER,

BUT TO SOME THEIR FAMILY

ARE MANY MILES AWAY,

SO THEY ONLY HAVE THEIR MEMORIES

TO CELEBRATE CHRISTMAS DAY.

FROM THE PAST THESE MEMORIES

FLOW BACK INTO OUR MINDS,

OF THOSE EARLY CHRISTMAS DAYS

AND OF THOSE JOYOUS TIMES,

WHEN SANTA FILLED THE PILLOW CASE

HANGING LOOSELY FROM THE BED,

WITH A CRICKET BAT, A FOOTBALL,

OR A BARBIE DRESSED IN RED.

GATHERING ROUND THE CHRISTMAS TREE

WE ADMIRE SANTA'S’ WARES,

WHILE MOTHERS IN THE KITCHEN

PREPARING OUR CHRISTMAS FARE,

A SLICE OF HAM, A CHICKEN LEG,

A CRISPY SPUD OR TWO,

WHILE DAD SPENDS CHRISTMAS DAY

SIPPING ON A HOME MADE BREW.

THE TIME HAS COME FOR THE TEST

SO WE ADJOURN INTO THE YARD,

THE SUMMER HAS BEEN HOT AND DRY

SO THE PITCH IS FAST AND HARD,

WITH THE BALL I’M DENNIS LILLIE,

I’M DOUG WALTERS WITH THE BAT,

BUT THIS IS ONLY PRACTICE

FOR WHEN I DON THAT BAGGY CAP.

YES, CHRISTMAS TO US ALL

COMES BUT ONE DAY OF THE YEAR,

A DAY TO SPEND WITH FAMILY

AND ENJOY A DAY OF CHEER,

BUT TO SOME THEIR FAMILY

ARE MANY MILES AWAY,

SO THEY ONLY HAVE THEIR MEMORIES.....

TO CELEBRATE CHRISTMAS DAY.

DARRELL B. PARKER 

Weaver of words and emotions

Wallaby Bob the Mongrel dog

Hello again my friends, here I am once again with a story to tell, this time about an Legend, only this time , a four legged legend. I am sure after reading this amazing story you will all be so proud of Wallaby Bob the Mongrel Dog...a legend in his own lifetime.

Enjoy the read and look forward to posting again soon. Dazza.

WALLABY BOB THE MONGREL DOG

NOW BACK IN THE EARLY DAYS

WHEN BOB WAS BUT A PUP

OLD JACK THE DROVER

THOUGHT AT LAST HE WAS IN LUCK

ALL HIS LIFE HE’D BEEN A DROVIN

AND HE’D HAD A DOG OR TWO

BUT NONE TO MATCH THE KEENNESS

OF HIS MONGREL PUP…..FROM UP KALANGADOO.

YEAH – OLD JACK WAS A HIGHLANDS DROVER

SO HE NEEDED A SPECIAL BREED OF DOG

ONE THAT COULD SKIRT THE BROADEST TREE

AND JUMP OVER THE BIGGEST LOG

ONE THAT COULD SWIM A MOUNTAIN STREAM

AND CLIMB THOSE ROCKY PEAKS

AND IF EVER CALLED UPON…..

ROUND UP A FLOCK OF SHEEP.

SO THE DAY ARRIVED WHEN OLD JACK

DECIDED TO PUT HIS MONGREL INTO WORK

BOB WAS AT THE SIT BESIDE OLD BESS

WHEN HIS NOSE BEGAN TO JERK

HE PRICKED HIS EARS AND LICKED HIS JOWLS

THEN RACED OFF TO CHASE A ROO

JACK COULD HEAR HIM IN THE SCRUB

BUT THERE WAS NOTHING HE COULD DO.

NOW JACK SAT TALL IN THE SADDLE

AND WENT SEARCHING FAR AND WIDE

HE SCOURED THE MOUNTAIN FORESTS

AND AROUND THE LAKE HE DID RIDE

THE DAYS THEY TURNED INTO WEEKS

AS HE CROSSED THE HORIZON SEEKING SOME SIGN

OFTEN HE THOUGHT HE HEARD HIS BARK

BUT HIS MONGREL DOG HE COULD NOT FIN

SUMMER HAD QUIETLY PASSED ON BY

ANOTHER WINTER WAS LOOMING LARGE

JACK AND BESS HAD DONE THE DROVIN

THE HIGHLAND SHEEP WERE IN THE YARD

JACKS ELBOW RESTED ON THE BAR

HE WAS STILL LAMENTING THE LOSS OF BOB

WHEN FROM OUTSIDE CAME THE CRY –

“LOOKEE THERE, ITS OLD JACKS MONGREL DOG! “

YES, THERE WAS BOB THE MONGREL DOG

LIMPING – BUT PROUDLY IN BEHIND

THE BIGGEST MOB OF WALLABY

THAT ONE COULD EVER FIND

HE’D RUN EM DOWN THE MOUNTAIN

THEN SWUM EM STRAIGHT ACROSS THE LAKE

SUCH WAS HIS DROVIN SKILLS

NOT ONE WALLABY MADE A BREAK.

JACK SMILED WHEN HE OPENED UP THE GATE

AND LET THE MOB INTO THE YARD

BUT WHAT WOULD HE DO WITH A THOUSAND ROO

HE’D HAVE TO THINK REAL HARD

AND NOW THE LEGEND OF THIS DROVERS DOG

IS LEFT TO BE TOLD IN VERSE AND SONG

FOR WHEN JACK CLOSED THE GATE AND TURNED AROUND

WALLABY BOB HIS MONGREL DOG – WAS WELL AND TRULY GONE!

DARRELL B. PARKER

Weaver of words and emotions

In from the Outback

Hi all,

just been sitting here with lots of thoughts going around in my head when I had this urge to write something.

I looked up at a picture hanging on the wall depicting a country scene, a stockman driving a herd of cattle across a river and into the vast aussie plains, the following is the result of that inspiration.

Gee I hope you like it, I sort of had a few tears when I read it back, I really had myself in the picture.

Hope you are having as good a day as I am, yes, that's right, it's good to be alive!!

Cheers.  dazza

In From The Outback

I’ve just come in from the Outback

Where the land is stubble bare

Nothing more than open cracks

Forced wider under the summer glare,

Where lonely clumps of Mallee

Wind their way along a rim,

Where many moons gone before

A waterhole… lay pristine to the brim.

One can rest upon a craggy ridge

And gaze the horizon to the west,

And watch the fiery ball retire

Without the hint of any protest,

Boil the billy without a permit signed

And unroll a swag upon a gravel bed,

And wait for the golden dawning

With a star filled galaxy… overhead.

I had no yearning to return…

To a city so cold and dispassionate,

To be locked away within walls of glass

To walk the streets fearing combat,

But the time had come to rekindle ties

With a family… so distant for so long,

Yes, a man needs to know what he had left behind

Will never forget... where they’d come from.

But soon the call of the Outback beckoned

Knocking urgently at the door of my heart,

I rolled my swag and said goodbye

I was now time for me to depart,

So I closed the gate and I strode away

Leaving many tears of despair behind,

Yes, the call of the outback proved once again…

It is there that my life is resigned.

So here I am… back with my lot

Not much… but Ne’re a regret,

I have no need for the gold of fools

Nor the use of a political alphabet,

I have my cobbers, my horse and my dog,

That’s all I need to survive…

Yes, it’s here in the Outback of this our great land…

That my heart and my soul… did derive.

Darrell B Parker

Weaver of words and emotions

The light that lights up the dark

The Light That Lights Up The Dark

Hello my friends, here I am back again with another composition  for your perusal and if you are inclined, your critique would be appreciated.

This verse was compiled some years back and the inspiration behind Poem goes something like this.......I was volunteering at a local Aged Care Facility,  some days working in the Day Care Centre, (an experience I can recommend to all), other days I would present readings of my poems  in the main Lounge to sometimes about 50 residents and staff . During my time at this facility I befriended many of the Residents , especially one lady who very much  appreciated my poems, and was always in attendance. Once I was sitting with her after my reading time expired, and I was privileged to listen to a story she told of times  in her younger days when she would walk the riverside at night, and take  in all the river activity (fishing boats etc) and  be most impressed with all the lights that bordered either side of the river, and moved up and down the river. She acknowledged her interest never waned to visit the riverside when weather and time allowed, and she insisted that her night visits were the most impressive.

I was quite taken with her story, she was still capable of expressing herself with many an adjective to describe her thoughts (her memory had not diminished to any extent at all I would say) and  I had no reason to doubt anything she told me.

It was a few weeks later that I passed time with this lovely soul again, and I asked her if she would approve me compiling  her story into a poem, to which she smiled and said she would be very proud if I could  put pen to paper and maybe recite it at one of my Readings,. hence the following verse  was born.

I hope  you enjoy the read , and perhaps put yourself  along the river as I do every time I recite it.

Darrell.

The Light That Lights Up The Dark

 

Leaving far behind me… the noises of the town

I walk into nature’s garden… to watch the sun go down,

Across the vastness there before me… open fields and copse of gum

A kaleidoscope of sunset hues… is offered up by setting sun

Yes, still its brightness lingers…offering hope with light and shade

But the outcome it is imminent… because every day must fade.

But as the darkness it envelopes all… another light does materialise

From beyond horizon far… a silver orb it does arise.

Climbing high into the night sky…creating eerie shadows o’er the land

Moonbeams bouncing back and forth… taking high command

Guiding the creatures of the night…as they fossick through crevice deep

Dancing with all the nocturnal’s… as they awaken from their sleep

Then the gentle breeze of night arrives…causing tree tops high to sway

Through the leaves the stars they glitter… silver jewels… many light years away

I turn around to see the harbour lights… flashing neon’s down by the shore

And see the lights of the trawlers…as they brave the harbour mouth once more.

The new day it now approaches… a glimmer of gold stretches far and wide

The orb of silver now racing…to find a haven for to hide

The silence of the night gone before… about to be sacrificed

To the sounds of a new beginning… to the joys of new life.

But I will always remember the sunset flush, the dusk, and stars twinkling up high

And remember the honey suckles sweet scent…as the night dew passes by

In this world of thorns and roses…and the wounds that hurt the heart

I will always remember the light… the light that lights up the dark.

Darrell B Parker

Weaver of words and emotions.

April, 2009

 

Bush Court of Kalangadoo

Howdydoo from Kalangadoo.... yes, that used to be the normal welcome from me to the many visitors that graced my "Tobermory". Back between 1998 and 2007.  as I may have mentioned in an earlier presentation I would do an weekly recital on Hobart Radio, and from this weekly interlude I amassed many friends  (listeners) who would come up the mountain for a visit, or just phone call for a chat, and my introduction was "howdydoo from kalangadoo", which went over very well indeed. Sometimes I had visitors who would come up in campervans and stay overnight and enjoy a barby and a few drinks and natter around the fire, an experience to behold yes indeed.

Here follows a poem that was inspired one night when I went outside to a vision through the trees of a noisy group of "natives" gathered around the barby area nattering away in various dialogues, and this was my resulting version......hope you enjoy and get o feel their presence.

BUSH COURT AT KALANGADOO

I ONCE WAS THE LOCAL WALLOPER

UP IN THE HILLS AT KALANGADOO,

THE ONLY ARREST I EVER MADE

WAS OF A DRUNKEN KANGAROO,

NORMALLY.....OUR LEAFY MOUNTAIN VILLAGE

IS QUITE BALMY AND CRIME FREE,

BUT ON THIS NIGHT I’D HAD A RUM OR TWO.....

WHEN I SAW THIS ROO COCK HIS LEG AND HAVE A PEE.

SO I PULLED THE OLD ROO OVER

AND IT SEEMED PRETTY PLAIN TO ME,

THAT HE WAS SUFFERING AN EXCESS OF ALCOHOL

AS HE TOOK AIM AGAINST THE TREE,

NOW ONCE I’D SEEN THE EVIDENCE

IT BECAME A LEGAL MATTER.....

BETWEEN THE POSSUMS AND THE SUGAR BATS.....

SO THEY ALL ASSEMBLED FOR A NATTER.

“WHAT’S THIS NEW WORLD COMING TO?”

SAID ELDER BRUSHTAIL TO DING BAT

“WHERE DOES OLD MAN ROO GET OFF?

PEEING ON OUR HOMES LIKE THAT,”

“HE MUST HAVE WET HIS WHISTLE.....

DOWN AT THE LOCAL WATER HOLE,”

THAT’S WHERE ALL NOCTURNAL NATIVES GO

WHEN THEY WISH TO BARE THEIR SOUL.

SO THE HIGH BUSH COURT IT WAS CONVENED

WITH JUDGE OLLIE OWL IN PRESIDE,

THE LAST TIME HE WAS ON THE BENCH

WILLIE WOMBAT COLLAPSED AND DIED,

SO, NO GREAT EXPECTATIONS WERE BEING HELD

FOR THE WELL BEING OF OLD MAN ROO,

PROCEEDINGS OFTEN WENT AWRY.....

I N THE BUSH COURT AT KALANGADOO.

FROM HIS CELL INTO THE DOCK

HOPPED A VERY CONCERNED OFFENDER,

THE PROSECUTOR HE BELLOWED OUT THE CHARGE

QUICKLY FOLLOWED BY THE PUBLIC DEFENDER,

“NOT GUILTY YOUR HONOUR, AND WITH RESPECT,

THESE CHARGES ARE NOUGHT BUT A JOKE.....

MY CLIENT WAS RESTING BY THAT TREE.....

ATTEMPTING TO ROLL HIMSELF A SMOKE.”

NOW.....EVERYONE AND HIS DOG KNOWS,

THAT OLD MAN ROOS CAN’T SMOKE,

BUT JUDGE OLLIE OWL WAS MOST IMPRESSED

BY THIS PUBLIC DEFENDER BLOKE,

DOWN CAME HIS MALLET.....”CASE DISMISSED”,

HE FOUND IN FAVOUR OF OLD MAN ROO.....

AND FOR BRINGING SUCH A CASE TO COURT.....

I GOT THE SHOVE......................OUT OF KALANGADOO.

Darrell B Parker

Bush Poet of Kalangadoo

1999

Firestorm

Hello there good friends...,I do hope that the following matter does not disturb in any way.

The resent bush-fires causing widespread  devastation throughout the country, especially NSW and QLD has recalled to me a poem I wrote some time back after the Marysville fires in Victoria.

The present day dangerous conditions caused me some very emotional moments, due to the fact that some years back I resided in many of these towns, such as Taree, Old Bar, Harrington, Forster, Wingham, and also the Sunhine Coast of QLD, and am well aware of just what a holocaust the residents would have gone through. To lose everything one has put together over decades of worth is totally devastating and overwhelmingly mind boggling, one can only imagine what they have gone through. and will be, suffering way into the future. With the grace of God I hope those involved can come to terms with this disaster and once again get there lives together, returning to some form of normality.
The bad picture of course is that we are only late in November, with many more similar incidents still to come, just now I hear of South Australia coming under attack from fires, I wish all involved a safe and successful triumph over the adversity, my thoughts, as thoughts of many others go with you.

Hopefully this poem will be an insight into the catastrophe, feel welcome to comment if you would care to do so.

Darrell.......


Firestorm

Drop a match into the grass

And see the earth it burn

Two hundred years of fighting fires...

Is there nothing we have learned?

They told us to stay and fight

But no one said it would be hell

Some emerging from the firestorm

With an awesome story... to tell

 

A wall of flame raced across the land

No hurdle in its path could retain

From hill to mountain to gully dry

The fury... onward it came

Sparing nothing in its path

It raged on throughout the night

Along with all the wildlife lost

Lost also... was much human life.

 

Towns up in the mountains

No longer do you hear them sing

Silence envelops where the children played

Grey ash covering everything,

No birds to trill their songs of joy

No budding flowers left to bloom

The tragedy of this firestorm

Leaving the nation wedged in gloom

 

Tales of courage verging on heroism

Are now appearing every day

Of how up on the burning mountain 

Some kept the firestorm at bay

Whilst others fought the good fight

Their efforts coming to no avail

Armed with just a smoldering blanket

They were but doomed to fail.

 

And now in its aftermath

We count the cost in hundreds lying dead

Mothers, fathers, sons and daughters...

Why could they not have been spared?

They died saving their animals

Attempting to get them to safer ground

But the firestorm consumed them all

Before a net of safety could be found.

 

Those of us out of harms way

Sit and watch the appeal on TV

The coming together of our country

Preparing to rebuild from all the debris

Parochialism can wait for the footy season

Now is the time for us to form a cartel

And to never forget the firestorm...

That gave a few of us... an insight into hell.

 

Darrell B Parker

Weaver of words and emotions.