LIFE GOES BY AS IN SONG . . .

Do you ever think about the people you meet
wondering what in their life has come their way
their life, like yours, rolls by, perhaps not as sweet
is sorrow or happiness their company every day?

Cheer up those in sorrow, help in grief or pain
be a ray of sunshine, hope for those with fears
comfort them with your strenght to start, again
brighten up their sadness, leave smiles, not tears

Think happiness, try some laughter, wherever you go
fed up with life, downhearted, troubles never end
add up all that is happiness, not sorrows, see it grow
life's road is sure to turn, maybe better around bend

Come to thinking, it always is much, much harder to be a kindly, caring, cheerful soul, than deal in misery
money, you may not have much, treasures may be few
to make life a little easier, always take the happy view

Life goes by, as in a song, listen carefully to its tune
to make the world a better place, know what to do
close ears to hurtful words, to happiness be not immune
try and do to others, as you would like they do to you

COUNT YOUR SUNNY HOURS . . .

Do you think your life is dull, wonder what to do
somehow a ray of inspiration seems to come through
ever counted the moments of gladness as life goes by
you'll find that dull moments disappear from your sky

Think of a rainbow, when times are dull, in pouring rain
soon all its joys, like those colours, will return again
you'll once again be happy, sadnesses will roll you by
before you're aware, again there is plenty of blue sky

Maybe you've had a very happy day, hope it is true
did you share with others, or kept it for just selfish you
life is not always leading along a sunlit path all the while
try and do share it with others, it will make them smile

Life is not a game of chance, nor being ruled by being smart
success, happiness, require that we work at it very hard
drifting on life's ocean, without a hand upon the helm
you and only you are to blame when troubles do overwhelm

Many things make people happy in this world of ours
life's not all that bad, when counting your sunny hours
sometimes it is not easy to face each day with a smile
cheerful words, gesture, may, maybe not, help in a while

LIFE's ROLLERCOASTER . . .

Traveling through life with it troubles and care
of life's travail we will never ever be fully aware
creating moments of sadness, happiness, despair
keep looking on the bright side for all that is fair

Try spreading sunshine, laughter, sing a song
your moments of unhappiness won't last long
seek out those that are far worse off then you
let them share your happiness, excitements too

A happy smile, kind word, at the right time and place
when was it last that you saw their happy face?
it is not always what we want in life we do find
on life's rollercoaster, to your fellow humans, be kind

Only once will we pass through our mortal life span
life is only too short, do the best for your fellow man
not spreading sadness, happiness, that's what counts
happy moments, not sad ones, will always rebound

Petty, stupid things, are those that really irritate
resolve starting each and every day with clean slate
for when you keep up that moaning and groaning
surely you always will reap what you have been sowing

THE REAL MEANING OF THE SEASON . . .

Now is the time of year of family and friends we do think
of resolutions we made last year, it went in an eye blink
acknowledging it as a time of remembering our joys, grief
setting aside all hurtfull things, maybe revive religious belief

The real meaning of the season, the fellowship we've had
family get-togethers, bringing joy to those who are sad
no better occasion, opportunity to care for one another
making efforts to re-unite family, some will say why bother

From experience all the unhappiness many of us know
loneliness, anguish, festering hatreds, don't let it grow
many reasons we must now try, from our lives to erase
evaluating in Spirit of Season, make it a better place

Maybe adopt an orphan, visit stranger, offer some hope
visit a hospital, goal, help a charity, plenty of scope
think about those at sea, loved ones in lands war torn
turning our lives around, stop those treating us with scorn

For all the world's woes, we'll never find a sure-fire cure
the less there is in our lives, more pleasant it is to endure
we are given another chance...... don't let it just slip by
if a year from now we are no better off, at least we did try

The TANAMI DESERT and FOSSILLISED RIVERS

The Tanami Desert, an ancient landscape, spinifex, termites abound
it is hot, dusty, it appears that not a drop of water could be found
surface indications are also very misleading at first observation
there is plenty of water in fossilised rivers in underground locations

In the days of Gondwana land, not so long ago, it was a muddy swamp
dripping rainforests, flowing rivers, places dinosuars used to tramp
over millions of years, swamp dried up, river sediment became sand
climatic elements also also shaped vegetation, wild life on this land

Termite mounds provide strong clue to existing water underground
in places very small, where water levels are high, the bigger mound
another clue are juicier than normal desert plants of The Tanami
profuse low shrub, tall spinifex, thick, lance-like leaves trust to sky

Vast reservoirs of salt water, underground, from explorations, is known saltier than the sea, needs expensive treatment, to get plants growing
along river valleys, groundwater closer to surface then anywhere else
finding fossillised rocks, Aboriginal paintings, variety of animals tells

Less than half of species survive, due to changing climatic shock
extinctions dramatic, cruel, after white men introduced his stock
disappeared: little-, hare-, nail-tailed wallabie, bandicoot, kangaroo rat
never to come back, after man, in 150 years, has destroyed habitat

Mountain Scenery Unsurpassed . . .

From many parts of Eastern coast, Glasshouse Mountains are intriguing sight
vulcanic narrow spires, others massive rounded bluffs, mysterious in any light
the history of them as diverse, colourful as the beautiful natural scenery
that's what, in 1770, Capt. Cook, when sailing past in HMS Endeavour, did see

Formed from lava plugs of old vulcanic cones, over time eroded away
along line of an old rock fault which did erupt in Australia's very early day
local Aboriginal legend of Dreamtime has it about Beerwah, the mother
her son Coonowrin, Glasshouse peaks, used to throw fire sticks at each other

First white inhabitants who shared their life with Aboriginals were castaways
not knowing that not far away there was a penal colony at Moreton Bay
looking for a better life it became the home of numerous convict runaways
those that could'nt take the "living hell", that had to be endured, every day

Timber getters arrived, using rivers, lakes, floating out huge logs of Cedar
followed soon by those looking for rumoured gold, travelling from afar
with the coming of the railways, towns founded as ports, now bypassed
some of them became ghost towns, now river trade had gone, didn't last

Others grew slowly into resilient, sleepy holiday places over the years
with plenty of innovative opportunity for the future, vibrant, no fears
the hinterland, rich, varied, producing many tropical fruits, sugar cane
scenic attractions, climate superb, a place well worth visiting again

BREAKING OF ANOTHER DAY . . .

Dawn chorus of birds, the sweetest melody

their songs echoing over valley and dale

daylight is breaking, shadows of the night flee

rays of the rising sun, ever so pale

Sun slowly rising, intensifying in its heat

morning mists in valley, slowly fading away

animals of the night beating a hasty retreat

emerging plants welcoming lifegiving sun's rays

There's a beauty in each dewdrop in its fall

its like a diamond, tumbling round and round

from Eucalypts and Wattles, Paperbarks so tall

sparkling on their journey towards the ground

Shafts of sunlight, dense canopy penetrating

eagles and hawks far above, soaring in the sky

myriad small insects in early light gyrating

whilst whispy white clouds, lazely drift by

Scent of varied bush flowers, ever so sweet

a vital role they play, in bush's regeneration

secreting table of smorgasbord, for animals to eat

in doing so, helping the process of pollination

Gently from chimneys of houses, in valley

place of peacefulness, picturesque, tranquility

smoke rising, undisturbed, spreading over plateau

now, this is a place to be, not a polluted city

OLD, BUT STILL LIVING . . .

The deserts of Australia are a facsinating place
nights very cold, days hot, shimmering in a heat haze
little rainfall, sparse vegetation, few animals survive
in harsh environment, early explorers lost their live


Some birds have adopted special skills, numbers are few
surviving on little water, sucking plants of their morning dew
some fish and frogs hibernate in tunnels underground
eagerly awaiting next season's rainfall, if ever it comes at all


In the distance, a few camels, brumbies, lazely roam this land
nibbling at sparse vegetation, dry, half buried by hot sand
a lonely dingo prowls, of human beings it surely is not shy
solitairy falcon surveys his terrritory, desperately seeking prey


Hostile environment, no landmarks, very, very intimidating
and yet, full of life, hasn't changed for eons, deeply facsinating
many a season has passed, some notably with no rain at all
many seeds laying dormant, waiting for that rain to fall


The Simpson Desert, ancient sea, dry since Gondwanaland
as far as the eye can see, unrelenting expanse of hot sand
age-old inhabitants, interacting elements, cruel, unforgiving
mimicking, mocking ancient sea shore, old but yet still living

NATURE'S WONDERLAND . . .

Smokey blue hills on horizon far away
wonderland of nature, grandiose in its display
from dry inland to where rainforests meet the sea
sun, rain, wind, each an entity, living in harmony


Cedars, eaucalypts, cut down long ago, large stumps
used in ships, houses, coal mines, new leaves in clumps
ribbon of silver, murmuring creek in steep valley below
gurgling over moss covered pebbles, not interupting flow


On steep mountainsides, all covered in coloured scree
supporting in small crevices, occasional stunted tree
against all the odds, it somehow manages to survive
a web of intermingled spidery roots giving it precious life


Myriad small insects dancing, age-old rituals, in subdued light
wild flowers, vibrant colours, eucalypts of great height
spiders, beetles, fungi, nests of birds, bush honey bees
brumbies, wild pigs, foxes, dingoes, kangaroo roaming free


Nature's way, micro-organisms at work, well below ground
making sure the bush's lifecycle keeps going round and round
each creature in it's own way contributing, not stopping toil
breaking down twigs, leaves, old logs, to enhance the soil


Waterfalls, ever changing sight, waterbirds and frogs,
wombats, lizards, snakes, sleeping in hollows, burnt out logs
to experience nature's wonders close at hand, time well spend
you'll really have to go there, a couple of days, pitch your tent

RESEARCH IN THE 'LONG PADDOCK'


In early days in times of drought, no feed for stock
system of tracks evolved called the 'Long Paddock
stretches from Far -North Queensland to Victoria, south
feeding many a farmer's stock their hungry mouth

The use of the Long Paddock is rapidly declining
our native animals' sun has once again began shining
researcher put "harps" along these grazing tracks
wanting to know what, where, how wildlife is coming back

No more hiding from those bleating, dumb woolly choppers
Many a bird said to caught insects and grasshoppers
those beasts with horns no more use this patch
more for us now, said the kangaroos to the wombats

Small birds, bats, about those "harps" they don't sing
we fly into them, hard to see, damaging our wing
we do try to fly either higher or really very low
otherwise for us, these "Long Paddocks" are a no-no

The main reason for the "Long Paddock" decimation
road trains, quicker, faster transport to new vegetation
in times of devastating floods, fires, long- term drought
not many farmers with cattle and sheep, are getting caught

Road-trains along higways, byways, day and night
putting legends of drovers and swagman to flight
no more boiling of billy, damper, stew, blazing campfire
forcing many of these colourful characters to retire

Yet another chapter in Aussie Folklore, heritage is lost
in age of computers, mighty dollar, the high cost
it sad, incomprehensible, perhaps a twist of fate
Pitt Street farmers say: " Prosper or perish mate"

SPURRING US ON TO GREATER THINGS . . .

Australia, sundrenched, parched, diversity and colour
even before discovery by the men of the Endeavour
since beginning of time, plagued by floods and fires
came the convicts, landed gentry, some real triers

Coming to better themselves in this great unknown land
some buildings, silent testimony to them, still stand
great hopes were raised, many dreams of riches shattered
tried to make the most of things to them that mattered

Some found gold, others from poor soil a hard living wrested
dreams and lives in easy street, hope, sorely tested
convicts, murderers, pious men, many different races
gamblers, drunkards, a sense of deja-vu on their faces

Answereing the call to arms, the adventurous, the brave
some returned as ANZACS, some buried in faraway grave
they made history, they never flinched, knew no fear
they stood up to be counted, for what they held dear

As we are here today, surely we have to stop and ponder
what's in store for the next generation, makes one wonder
let us be proud of our heritage, our land, our Aussie folklore
spurring us on to even greater things since the Endeavour

EXPLORING OUR MAGNIFICIENT COASTLINE

Travelling Australia, no one forgets spectacular South Coast

of rock formations, all shapes, colours, sizes does it boast

by huge waves, winds, without abating, it's constantly lashed

many a sailing ship, in early days, against rocks it was dashed

no rocks can withstand this relentless pounding of these waves

over thousands, millions of years, creating shapes and caves

the energy expended, travelling endless kilometres of open sea

blowholes, far inland, foam spray above cliff tops, lone treee

there are reverberating thumps, boom like thunder, at distance

in rough weather, don't go near edge, you're taking a big chance

residual towers of harder rock, spectacularly rise from rough sea

near Port Campbell, in fine weather, "Twelve Apostles" you'll see

inland are large areas that are forested by twisted Mallee tree

big knobbly underground roots, wildflowers blooming in spring

Papery Sunray, Poached Egg Daisies, some large, some small

if you listen, stand still, you'll see Mallee Fowl, hear their call

most lakes connected to Murray River, overflow after heavy rain

then, for many wetland birds, this becomes their breeding domain

White-bellied Sea-Eagle, Pelican, BlackSwan, variety of ducks too

Mulga Parrot, Egret, Euro, Western, Eastern Grey, Red Kangaroo

travelling along The Great Ocean Road, many an unfamiliar sound

different horizons, changing coastline, the scenery truly astound

there are many spectacular vistas on cloudy days with varied light

elements of nature relentlessly asssaulting The Great Australian Bight

THIS

HAUNTING

LAND . . .

nowhere, but in our Australia, is there an inland sea

with waterbirds foraging on foreshore, some migratory

pelicans, white ibis, ducks overhead in flying formation

the moon, a day past full, soon will be the only illumination

shadows lengthening, sky changing by the setting sun

twilight doesn't linger, air is still, magic has just begun

soon light of new day, sun blazing orb in cloudless sky

there'll be no rain today, for a landscape parched and dry

stunted desert trees, red dust, hot, utter desolation

no place to linger long, but if you must, heed your preparation

simmering heat, mirages, tantalising oasis, cool waterfall

bleached bones of animals, grotesque in life's final call

yet in all its harshness, mystique, even in the distant past

never been any different, beautiful, haunting, unsurpassed

the decades rolled by, on and on, so did seasons in turn

even some of our early explorers, this a place they did spurn

isolated, relentless summer heat, wet season, different story

desert comes alive, riot of flowers, new life, what glory

if you travel this far, off the beaten track, in this country

it's there to see, experience it, on Birdsville Track, near Marree

A PLACE CALLED KAKADU . . .

A mixed feeling of expectations one could feel is in the air

after arduous journey along dusty, potholed road, nearly there

the end result of meticulous planning over a year or two

feeling magical Spirit, forged by history,of a place called Kakdu

Lowlands so ancient, witness to life forming, maybe here it began

the appearance of humans, in large numbers, Aboriginal Man

tiny rivulets cascading of escarpment, forming wetlands and more

weaving thru Eucalypt forests, creeks, mangroves, to sandy seashore

Kakadu's history recorded in yellow, red ochre, ingrained on rock

white man, of it's significance only now, too late, taking stock

wetlands, haven for birds, Jabiru, Brolga, File snake, Magpie Geese

domestic pigs, water buffalo, cane toad, camel, feral all of these

Camping near beautiful creek, waterhole for swimming, very clear

rugged cliffs, colourful slabs of rocks in water, magic to be here

feeding grounds of many conspicuously beautiful water birds

their morning chorus, like nothing else you've anywhere heard

Plenty of Wallabies, dwarf-like possums, black furred Kangaroo

grasshoppers, termites, scrub-fowl, nests they built, amazing too

on far horizon, small black thundery clouds starting to appear

getting more intense, indications of the Wet Season nearly being here

Violent squalls sweeping through trees, followed by torrential rain

the Wet Season, in no uncertain manner, has arrived once again

flooding drought stricken landscape, great miracles being wrought

lifecycles, dormant, resuming again, no one would have ever thought

A VANISHING TRADE

There is an old smithy in our little village still
watching him work, with steel, fire, a boyhood thrill
in corner, from through of water, steam rising, iron cools
the walls, displaying , in some sort of order, various tools

Pieces of iron glowing, almost white hot, in forge fire
a young lad, pumping a set of bellows, never seems to tire
upon anvil, smithy places white hot iron, sounds of striking hammer
this is a job for muscled man, with plenty of sweat, very little glamour

A horse stands near door patiently, in some sort of shade
the smithy busily shaping it's iron shoes, custom made
in leather apron, cap upon his head, a big knife, rasp
shaping horse's hoof, a bit here, a bit there, absorbed in task.

Clouds of acrid smoke when fitting hot shoe on hoof
horse somewhat looks bemused, what's it thinking, aloof
the work is slow, can't be hurried, it's only just begun
there is not one horse, but three more, finally one done.

The last nail is hammered into hoof, released, next in its place
if horses could talk, walking away with a big smile on its face?
the smithy rummaging in fire, next one on anvil, heating forge
hammering and shaping shoes for yet another horse

majority of horse shoes now, unfortunately, mass produced overseas
wiping out that most noble and ancient craft of smithies
it is a sad fact that to see a smithy in this modern day and age
you'll only see them now in an environmental tourist village.

THIS IS AUSTRALIA, OUR MAGIC LAND . . .

Wind in the trees, a gentle breeze, birds that sing
animals of bush, slaking thirst at whispering stream
kookaburras laughing, butterflies, wild flowers at all
honey eaters, lorrikeets, whipbirds, waratahs so tall.

Eagles, kites, hawks on air currents far above ground
lyrebirds, bush turkeys, bowerbirds, scratching around
lizards, frogs, shinglebacks, snakes, occasional tree owl
in silence of the night you can hear dingos howl.

When night descends slowly, creating a whole new sensation
the bush seems to give birth to a whole new population
sugar gliders, wombats, possums, koalas feeding in gum trees
the daylight animals and predators no more, seeming to flee.

Up in the star studded sky, Southern Cross way up yonder
moon reflecting in billabong, night time full of wonder
tranquility all around, sounds of the bush close at hand
where else would you want to be but in Australia, magical land.