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.

Lots of water under the bridge since........

Yes, there has been lots of water pass under the bridge since I last visited my Blog to post a poem, or even just  to say g'day. I won't bore you with 13 years of trivia, I will just mention the matters that caused me any concern, or matters  that were a benefit to my survival, especially the times that availed me a reason to smile....😀

A sad day was endured by family when we lost our dear mother Mary,  (91 years) in 2009, I had been caring for her for 4 years after she had fallen and crushed her vertebrae.  Mum improved satisfactorily, she had been a good patient until she developed a cough, a day or so later she coughed up some blood, I rushed her to hospital but an aneurysm was shortly after to take her life, we were led to believe Mother suffered no stress  or pain, which was a blessing to us all. Her send off was filled with lots of family love and reminiscing, and we saw her off with a dozen white pigeons soaring into the sky at the conclusion of the Service, lots of tears followed their flight far into the sky.
It was around this time I wrote the following poem and it was read as part of the service.

A MOTHERS LOVE

 

I’ve composed many a verse

Over many a year,

But I’ve never composed a verse

About a love we so revere,

A love that is there

When our needs require tending,

A love that is unassuming

And will be.....never ending,

A love which is as rich

As a field of dreams,

A love that remains loyal

With no in-betweens,

A love that will follow

As we travel our life line,

A love that persists.....

As does old father time,

Yes, we all know this love

A love like no other.....

No other love.....is the like,

Of the love of ones mother.

 

Darrell B. Parker

Weaver of words and emotions

During my next visit I will continue to offer you further insight into my non appearance and hence my resurrection to this Blog.

Goodnight now. Dazza.

A Town Called Lonely

This is the place I’ve been to visit
Many times before,
But, I thought the time it had arrived
When I would return here no more,
Yes, I’m in a town called Lonely
I’ve stopped off to visit once again,
Each time I journey back here…
My heart is wracked with pain.

When you told me that you loved me
All my loneliness did subside,
The happiness within my soul
There was no way to hide,
I left the town called Lonely
In the distance far behind,
With a smile engraved upon my heart…
And with you, wholly on my mind.

It was only for a short while
But time enough to identify,
That the love we found with each other
Could not be termed a lie,
The despair that followed your letter
Your letter I call… “If only”…
Quickly had me returning,
To this Town called Lonely.

Yes, I have reached the town called Lonely
Again, I have arrived,
The town of Lonely has always been
A big part of my life,
Here, I guess I will remain
Until another love comes to pass,
And the town of Lonely gives me leave…
To repair the damage done… to my heart.

Billy Strings At The Old Forcett Hall

Some years ago I would drive from Kalangadoo to Hobart once a week and do a recital at the Country Music Halls. This expanded to attending the Forcett Hall fortnightly and performing my poems to song up on stage in front of an eager and excited audience. The format was for all in attendance to hop onto stage and sing a song, or play a tune, or just tell a joke if that be the case, but the priority was for all to have fun, have a dance, a wonderful supper at half time, and in general enjoy the night, and I can assure you all we did that on a regular basis. Here follows one of my poems which I had put to music, and sang often to the patrons of the Forcett Hall.

Billy Strings At The Old Forcett Hall

Well I headed out from Kalangadoo when the sheds they petered out,
The shearing here on the mountain was over... due to the drought,
So I loaded up my yella Ute and threw in a case of wine,
And with Billy Strings by my side…I left the mountain far behind.

I headed down the coast road lookin for a change of luck,
I’d heard that when one door closes another door opens up,
I’d reached the Arthur Highway, my mind in total recall,
When a country music sign I saw …outside the Old Forcett Hall.

Now there was much activity…the car park was filling fast,
I found a spot beside a Merc and my anchor I did cast,
It was the second Thursday of the month and the winter’s night was cold,
Yes, The Old Forcett Hall… was a sight to behold.

So I grabbed my Billy Strings and sauntered through the door,
There were blokes and sheila’s hugging, as they waltzed around the floor,
There was a band of merry men…hangin to a tune,
I could feel a lot of fellowship all around the room.

Well, soon it became my turn to sing these folks a song,
I’d only played a few bars; I knew it wasn’t long,
Before they’d ceased their dancin and sat down to hear me sing,
That’s how I ended up at Forcett, strummin my mate Billy Strings.

Yes, the old Forcett Hall…that’s the place to be,
The old Forcett Hall…the place for you and me,
Where there’s a crowd, and the music’s loud, and a decent cuppa tea,
The old Forcett Hall …that’s the place for you and me.

If you are driving past the Forcett Hall and see a country music sign,
Pull into the car park…the yella ute you see is mine,
Leave your troubles outside, come on in a have a ball…
You may become a top performer in the Old Forcett Hall.

"Pick a Box"

Hi there, this is a verse I put together at the request of Hobart DJ Brett Marley a few years back. At the time I was reciting over the airways on a Friday morning and Brett asked me to put something together for his old mate Dennis, the Funeral Director up the valley. It is written as if Brett is telling the story. Hope you enjoy.

PS...Marles should not get outa this one, hey?

"G’DAY, ITS OLD MAN MARLEY HERE..."

I’D BEEN FEELIN PRETTY CROOK YOU KNOW
SHAKING LIMBS, LOSS OF VISION, GOUT, YES THE FLAMIN LOT
SO I RANG MY MATE DENNIS MURPHY
TO SEE JUST WHAT HE HAD IN STOCK
MURPH SAID “DROP IN MARLES AND HAVE A LOOK –
AND BE SURE TO WEAR YOUR SOCKS”
HE SAID I SOUNDED LIKE DEATH ON LEGS
“SO COME ON DOWN AND PICK – A – BOX! “

MURPH SAID THE TIME WAS RIGHT
ONE SHOULD NOT LEAVE IT TOO LATE
IF I LEAVE THE DECISION ANY LONGER
IT COULD BE MY LIFE’S BIGGEST MISTAKE
SO INTO THE SHOWROOM I WAS USHERED
TO BE SURROUNDED BY LOTS OF WOOD
THE COLOURS AND DESIGNS WERE MOST CONFUSING
TO PICK – A – BOX…..I WAS NOT SO SURE I COULD.

DENNIS RECKONED PICKING A BOX WAS VERY EASY
JUST CLIMB IN AND TRY ONE OUT
IT’S THE LENGTH – BREADTH – AND WIDTH THAT MATTERS
IT’S NOT THE COLOUR OR THE COST YOU WORRY ABOUT
SO IT WAS OFF WITH MY BOOTS AND INTO A BOX
WHERE I LAID MY TIRED OLD BODY DOWN
AND WHEN MURPH CLOSED THE LID SO GENTLE
I IMAGINED MY SOUL WAS HEAVEN BOUND.

YEAH, I MET UP WITH AN ANGEL
STANDING AT THE PEARLY GATE
SHE SAID “WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN MARLEY? “
“YOU ARE RUNNING AWFULLY LATE –
WE EXPECTED YOU SOME TIME BACK
YES, THE DAY AFTER YOUR JOUST WITH DOUG
YOU WERE NOT EXPECTED TO SURVIVE
WHEN YOU STAGGERED HOME FROM THE PUB! “

NOW THIS ANGEL WAS ABOUT TO UNLOCK THE GATE
BUT MY SUBCONSCIOUS WAS STILL ALERT
DENNIS COULD NOT BELIEVE HIS EYES
WHEN FROM THAT ROSEWOOD BOX I BURST
OUT THE DOOR AND DOWN THE ROAD
THE GROUND NEVER IN CONTACT WITH MY SOCKS…..
AND NOW I DARE NOT ANSWER MY PHONE
JUST IN CASE IT’S MURPHY – WANTING ME TO PICK – A - BOX.

PENNED AT THE REQUEST OF BRETT MARLEY
FOR HIS MATE DENNIS MURPHY
“FUNERAL DIRECTOR EXTRAORDINAIRE”

Law of Location

"No matter where you go..... there you are!"

Living with the Angels

NO, I DON’T WANT TO LIVE IN THE CITY
AND I DON’T WANT TO LIVE DOWN BY THE SEA,
AND I DON’T WANT TO HAVE ANY NEIGHBOURS
TO HAVE A CONFLICT WITH ME,
SO I LIVE UP ON A MOUNTAIN
WHERE MOST PEOPLE... THEY JUST PASS ON THROUGH,
I LIVE UP HERE WITH THE ANGELS
UP HERE, IN KALANGADOO.

I NEVER FEEL ANY LONELINESS
CAUSE THERE’S ALWAYS SOMEONE BY MY SIDE,
AS I SIT OUT ON MY VERANDAH
AND WATCH THE EAGLES SOAR UP HIGH,
I WATCH THE SUN ILLUMINATE THE DAY
AND I WATCH THE MOONBEAMS DANCE UPON THE LAKE,
I HAVE NO ONE TO ANSWER TO
FOR WHATEVER MY IMAGINATION MAY CREATE.

EACH DAY UP HERE ON THE MOUNTAIN
ALWAYS DELIVERS SOMETHING NEW,
BE IT ONLY A NESTING SWALLOW
OR A CHEEKY KANGAROO,
IT COULD BE A POSSUM ON THE ROOF
THAT NEEDS MY IMMEDIATE ATTENTION,
OR MAYBE A BRAISED WILD RABBIT, WITH RED WINE
THAT PERHAPS I SHOULD MENTION.

I MOSTLY LIVE A SIMPLE LIFE
AND FROM THE ANGELS, I DON’T TRY TO HIDE,
I GET OUT AND WALK THE TRACKS…..
IT’S THE CALL OF THE BUSH THAT I ABIDE,
WHEN I FLICK A FLY UPON THE LAKE
OR REPOSE WITH OLD FATHER TIME,
GOOSEBUMPS GATHER UPON MY SKIN
AND CHILDHOOD MEMORIES SPRING TO MIND.

BUT LIVING UP HERE WITH THE ANGELS
IS NOT ALWAYS WHAT YOU MAY THINK,
ESPECIALLY WHEN THE LOCAL WATERIN HOLE
EXHAUSTS ITS SUPPLY OF MOUNTAIN DEW TO DRINK,
THIS SORT OF LEAVES THE PATRONS
SOMEWHAT BEMUSED, AND IN FROWN,
BUT WHEN THE COASTAL CARRIER ARRIVES
THEY RECKON IT WAS MY ANGELS THAT GUIDED IT TO TOWN.

SO THERE YOU GO, THAT’S WHY I DON’T LIVE IN THE CITY
WHY I DON’T LIVE DOWN BY THE SEA,
WHY I DON’T HAVE ANY NEIGHBOURS
TO HAVE A CONFLICT WITH ME,
THAT’S WHY I LIVE ON A MOUNTAIN
WHERE MOST PEOPLE ...THEY JUST PASS ON THROUGH,
THAT’S WHY I LIVE UP HERE WITH THE ANGELS
UP HERE.....IN KALANGADOO.

Rain

All this rain, it has inspired me to create a short verse. It has been some time since I compiled a verse of this nature, I hope it reflects the current situation around the country.

Rain

The day is becoming dark as night
As the clouds roll in from the west,
There is excitement… surrounding all about
As anticipation is no longer suppressed,
The fight surely will be over
When this black doona… looming overhead
Relinquishes a flood of emotion
And irrigates our earth… its bed.

Yes, today the rain comes tumbling down
Transforming every street into a running stream,
The raging torrent soon disappears
But the sediment reminds us of where it has been,
No one shows sign of anguish, nor has any complaints
Not even those void of insurance,
Because we all look up into Gods house…
And give thanks… for his providence

“May there always be a rainmaker”