THE SWAGGIE . . .

In the cemetery there stands a simple wooden cross
on it, Swaggie, caught my eye and imagination
no claim to fame, achievement, just one of society's dross
a harmless soul, nobody knew, a-tramping around the Nation

His old felt hat, worn jauntily, belongings, swag on back
grey whiskers, tousled hair, flowing long white beard
worn boots, army great coat, heading along unknown track
almost a trade mark, about him not many people cared

Leading a simple life, never a worry or ever creating a fuss
communicating with nature, in heart and mind content
a lifelong dream fulfilled, maybe strange to many of us
looking at life in a different perspective, no fairy story

Many a place he had been, hitching a ride or just walk
always as one with nature, according to environment
about his travels, if you asked, only too willing to talk
for many hours, wishing his odessy would never end

Days of the Swaggie, romantic as they may seem, no more
like so many things of yesteryear, passing into Folklore
as in life, so too in death, at rest under a shady tree
no name, no Epitaph, just an all encompassing "Swaggie

A RIVER CARVED OUT OF STONE . . .

Floodwaters over centuries have left their mark in this river carved out of stone
to appreciate it's beauty of towering sheer walls can be done by boat alone
creating caves and overhangs when through sandstone cliffs it forged it's way
walls displaying kaleidoscope of colours by changing light throughout the day

This river in winter it serene beauty, peacefulness, tranquility grossly belie
in summer, when in full flood, a very destructive force when it thunders by
the waters become very deep between the sheer walls, flowing metres wide
eroding the banks, drowning wildlife, uprooting trees, what a terrifying sight

The mirror-like reflections of multi-coloured walls amazing sight to behold
interspersed, here, there, delicate plants, clinging to walls, tenuous foothold
along path subtle formed rock bars,creating foaming rapids, miniature waterfall
great variety of birds, cormorants, fairy martins, rainbow birds, enthrall

Freshwater crocodiles, in search of food in tranquil waters, slowly cruise by
almost a fisherman's paradise, usually catch perch, barramundi, on first try
unlike most Aboriginal rock art found, here not always in caves, rock shelters
often on open walls, although protected from fierce sun and torrential rain

Drawings, some 18000 years old, depict ancestral Spirits, animals of Dreamtime
some of them brilliant colours, red ochres, meticulously drawn in very fine line
scattered in Outback Towns or Stations, few Aboriginal descendants still survive
their traditional relationship with the land and Katherine Gorge being kept alive

Nature is an absolute 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, moving in harmony

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

On steep mountain sides, all covered in fine scree
supporting in small crevices, occasional stunted tree
against all odds, they somehow manage to survive
a web of intermingled spidery roots giving it precious life

Myriad small insects dancing, age-old rituals, sub-dued light
wild flowers, vibrant colours, eucalypts of great height
spiders, beetles, fungi, nests of birds, bush honey bees
brumbies, wild pigs, foxes, dingos, kangaroos, roaming free

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

Waterfalls, ever changing sight, waterbirds and frogs,
wombat, lizards, snakes, sleep in hollows, burnt out logs
to experience nature's wonderland close at hand, go there
you'll never regret, immerse yourself in it, its everywhere

PAUSE A MOMENT . . .

Go and spend a night in Australian bush, great thrill
titillating your senses, heart and mind with wonder fill
a brilliant sunset at end of the day, moon slowly rising
millions of stars above you, the light subdued, surprising

Nowhere else, even worldwide, only in Australia, will you see
koalas, possums, sugar gliders, foraging in tree's canopy
diversity of insects, age-old rituals performing, air is light
boulders, grotesque shapes, mountains, magical sight

Wombats, flying foxes, emus, frogs in billabong croaking
bush's smell , flowers, unusual noises, thought provoking
wallabies, kangaroos, like silhouettes in pale moonlight
pause now and then, really listen to sounds of the night

Dingos howl, creaking of dry leaning old trees, owls hoot
gurgling of nearby creek, crunching of twigs underfoot
ant-eaters, echidnas rummaging for food on forest floor
magic moments in time, ocean sounds on faraway shore

Enchantment of bush by night soon lost by rising sun
whispy mists, light of dawn, the magic of night has gone
cadenza of morning bird's chorus, like a symphony
the experience lingers in your mind, everlasting memory

THE LITTLE BUSH PUB . . .

Smokey ceiling, wooden floor, bar of finest teak
this then is the bush town's cosey litle pub
many stories had been told, if the walls could speak
of generation after generation, was the social hub

Tales of floods, droughts, poor seasons, prosperity
battles with bureacracy, rabbits, foxes, fires won, lost
birth, death, some tragic happenings, just like big family
produce prices, up or down, banks increasing loan cost

Publican, friendly bloke, muscular, by any means big in size
barmaid, redhead, buxom, sometimes a little too rough
he served the regular drunks their beer in blocks of ice
she fixed the rowdy ones, one stare was usually enough

Jack, he'd tell stories, so unbelievable and equally bizarre
Bill naturally voicing his opinion, its all a load of bull
Cockey, perched in cage, screeching, on end of bar
all the others, quietly drinking, shut-up you bloody fool

So they kept on merrily drinking, beer, spirits and stout
paying, in their intoxicated state, scant attention to time
one more, vaguely remembering which way was the way out
let alone driving their car safely home in a straight line

Maybe you've been inside these charming little country pubs
scattered all over in bush towns in this great land
many now turned, at considerable cost, into cold, modern clubs
in their country town's bush setting, they look quite bland

OLD, BUT STILL LIVING . . .

The deserts of Australia are a facsinating place
nights very cold, days hot, shimmering in 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 at plants for morning dew
some fish and frogs hibernate in tunnels underground
awaiting seasonal rainfall, if and when it does come around

In the distance a few camels, brumbies roam this land
nibling at sparse vegetation, dry, half buried by sand
a lonely dingo prowls, of human beings it's not shy
solitairy falcon circling above, looking for some prey

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

The Simpson Desert, ancient sea, dry since Gondwana land
as far as the eye can see, unrelenting expanse of fine sand
age old inhabitants, interacting elements, unforgiving
mimicking, mocking ancient sea shore, old, but still living

TRAVELING OUR BEAUTIFUL AUSTRALIA . . .

The road curved over old wooden bridge, revealing breath-taking view
this frequently happens, unexpected in your travels, nothing really new
there are so many places to choose from, hard to say which is the best
each it's own particulair charm, all very inviting to stay longer and rest

A place with many walking tracks is Croajingalong on south east coast
the variety of flora, fauna, incredible scenery, of which it proudly boast
inland as far as eye can see, dense shrub, wildernes, bushwalker's dream
among stretch of coast sand dunes, steep granite cliffs in sunshine gleam

In many inlets water like diluted black ink, fettucine kelp waving in swell
you can experience Australian fur seals here, sheltered, doing very well
be prepared for deafening noise, the stench of rotting fish, it fills the air
maybe so as not to spoil your precious holidays, don't linger too long there

A very diverse environment, steep gullies, coloured lichen, moss, waterfall
on sides of heaped scree, water gums clinging precariously, spindly, very tall
many varieties of orchids, endangered wildlife such as the Ground Parrott
stand still, pause a moment, maybe a Gippsland Water Dragon you'll spot

As darkness falls, one can indulge in spotlighting for wildlife in tree canopy
possums, sugar gliders, koala, small tree kangaroo, almost extinct, you see
it is not hard to spot Crimson Rosellas, Black-faced Shags, maybe Bower Bird
wake up in the mornings to chorus of diverse birds, the best you've ever heard

Calls of Lyre Birds, Gang-Gang Cockatoos drifting on breeze, kites on thermals
experienced only minute detail from all that's to see, senses did enthrall
all this needs more than a lifetime to see it, much, much longer to understand
sadly time came to say farewell, goodbye, leaving behind Nature's Wonderland

IN THE MUTED LIGHT OF . . .

In the muted light of daybreak, barely the horizon one could see
small bats capturing final mouthfulls, then disappearing in hollow tree
fluted pipings of pied butcher birds drifting on still, cool, morning air
an almost sacred atmosphere, not being disturbed by humans being here

Perfect backdrop to dawn chorus, whispy mists rising from nearby billabong
as the dawn light slowly increases, more birds join with their beautiful song
changing colour of morning light seems to be playing tricks before one's eyes
turning sandstone cliffs, all around, into myriad colours, as sun rises in sky

This is Mt Mulligan, formidable monolith, bigger than Ayers Rock, no less
swelling in size as light increases, rearing out of plain, appearing like fortress
pock-marked by eons of wind, rain, ochre coloured sheer cliffs, cloudy sky
ideal nesting place for peregrine falcons, protected, bird's eye view of prey

Here and there stands of skeleton trees, warming their 'bones' in midday sun
tiny leaves portruding from bleached branches, fully grown, not just begun
struggling up the last steepest stony incline, savouring the view to be had
westerly Great Dividing Ranges, easterly Feathered Ranges, dry, khaki-clad

Permanent waterhole, beginning of creek, in deep gorge of red rock disappearing
a ravine with reflective rock pools, lush ferns, shapes of kangaroos in clearing
in dim recess of cave, very easy to miss, beautiful, but faded paintings of animals
wasp nests, ghost bats, termites, soot from long ago campfires of Aboriginals

Presence of Aboriginal artists of times past, in almost sacred silence one could feel
whose hands, twig brushes, made these images on ancient stone canvas, surreal
Mt Mulligan's landscape remarkably diverse in flora, fauna, craggy cliff faces
in overall history, environment of Australia, one of those truly facsinating places

WELCOME TO OUR WONDERLAND . . .

Traveling this country many a panoramic landscape unfolds
heightening your expectations, senses, curiosity what it holds
soon you'll reach destination, striking camp for a few nights
this is The Grampians, after long journey you've finally arrived

Getting up early to climb lookout at campsite before sunrise
to experience beginning of new day, a never to forget surprise
you can see the glowing ball of rising sun, casting it's orange hue
over early morning mists, against a sky full of promise and blue

The muted light of daybreak slowly erasing any darkness of night
some ranges like islands, promotories, changing in early light
a wonderland awaits one of flora, fauna and Aboriginal art
so much to see and do, difficult to decide where, how, to start

Red-headed Gang-Gang Cockatoos, Wallabies, Emus, maybe a snake
Grey Kangaroos, Corellas, squabbling, having a drink at mountain lake
you may see Brush-tailed Possums, Sugar gliders and Wombats
a large feral population of Deer, Goats, Pigs, Rabbits and Cats

Silver Banksia, Blackwood, deep mine shafts, no ruins to be seen
nature has claimed back once prosperous gold diggings, Mafeking
Snow Gums, Mountain Grey Gums, Stringy Bark, may, many more
wild flower varieties to numerous to mention on forest floor

The old quarry, rusted machinery, stone masons long since gone
many houses, important buildings, built with this beatiful stone
you see massive stumps of Messmate, Mountain and River Gum
mesmerising magnificient waterfalls of the escarpment they run

Go hiking, climb a mountain, hot air ballooning, canoe on the lake
Hawks, Eagles soaring, cartwheeling in the sky, pictures to take
when you've seen it all, unlikely, quietly contemplate the overall
you too will say: "The Grampians for a holiday, mate, it's got it all!"

Portrait of a Lady, She has beatifully coloured eyes,
alluring and good looks, quick, as usual, on her feet
aware of admiring sly glances, she herself wasn't exactly
shy. Spitting image of her parents, no doubt plenty of
admirers wherever she went. Personality plus, sensing
when talked about, any occasion willing to attend. Riding
on a motorbike, style supurb, great, without helmet, wants
to feel wind on her face. Drawing attention like Queen of an
estate, always prim and proper, everything in it's place.
Living on a farm, helping with cattle, sheep, when nothing
to do pokes around in machinery shed. Never too lazy, no
shirking in earning her keep, keeping in good shape, golden
rule, early to bed. Very seldom took offence, hardly ever a
grizzle, her life certainly wasn't easy, sometimes a bit of a
hard slog. Didn't like being shouted at, but, turned at a whistle,
contrary to your thinking, she was a very well educated and
wel bred Sheepdog.

Exploring Australia's magnificient coastline . . .

Traveling 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 the rocks was dashed
not even rocks withstand this relentless pounding of these waves
over thousands, millions of years, creating wierd shapes and caves

Their energy expended, traveling endless kilometres of open sea
blowholes, far inland, foam, spray above cliff tops, a lone tree
there are reverbating thumps, booms, like thunder at a 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 bloom in Spring
Papery Sunray, Poached Egg Daisies, many more, large, small
if you listen, stand still, you may see Mallee fowls, hear their call
most lakes connected to Murray River, overflowing after heavy rain
these, for many wetland birds, becomes their breeding domain

White-bellied Sea Eagle,Pelican, Black Swan, variety of ducks too
Mulga Parrot, Egret, Euro, Western, Eastern Grey and Red Kangaroo
traveling along The Great Ocean Road, many an unfamiliar sound
different horizons, ever changing coastline, scenery will astound
there are spectacular vistas on cloudy days with the varying light
elements of Nature, relentlessly eroding The Great Australian Bight

A JEWEL ON THE WEST COAST . . .

It was by mere chance discovering this jewel going down narrow bush track
never seeemed to end, anticipating vista awaiting, didn't want to turn back
discovering it, of which the locals, in their wisdom, they certainly didn't boast
a place to escape fast pace, humdrum of polluted city, yet so close, on coast

Beautifully eroded limestone cliffs, standing amongst clear water, lapping shore
undulating dunes, pristine beach, here and there a shipwreck, adding to decor
this is a place, although close to suburbia, one can relax, it always will be there
Pt Peron, at backdoor of city, waiting to be discovered, unparalelled anywhere

Whenever there, new discoveries are bound to be made, maybe in rockpool
or when meandering along myriad dune bush tracks, in summer shady and cool
one could encounter spectacle of Sea Eagles soaring high, in cloudless sky
maybe sit yourself down, let the beautifull landscape, for later, fill mind's eye

Going fishing off rocks, being careful where one steps, not catching any fish
didn't seem to matter, absorbed and surrounded by nature, what utter bliss
the impressive drama of changing colours of mirror images in water of rocks
one can almost tell the time of day, nature providing its own unique clocks

At night the enchantment of silvery moonlight, over limestone cliffs and bay
to be here forever, why leave, holding one spellbound, whether night or day
in winter would be even more dramatic, swell of huge waves battering reef
to weary sailors full of danger, shipwrecks, testimony of having come to grief

The sky, cliffs, beach all turning red, ocean looks like pool of blood at sunset
maybe at end of some bush track a similar jewel awaits to be discovered yet
in beautiful Australia, unbeknown to most, may be many more such places
depending on time of year, you too can experience it, a nature of many faces.

MEMORIES OF A CEDAR CUTTER . . .

On his verandah there sat the old man, box of old photos on the ground
reliving days of his youth as a cedar cutter, when still of body, mind, sound
almost confined to wheelchair in his twilight years, dog keeping him company
memories came flooding back, from years gone by, they were varied and many

Magically in his mind's eye, photos come alive, showing mates and working chums
revealng dense expanse of mountains, valleys, witth stands of tall grey-green gums
they treated each other like a brother, the years they spend helping one another
that special bond still seemed to exist even now, whenever there was a get-together

Echoes of the sounds of axes reverberating, cutting down tall Cedar trees, chop, chop
the call of "Timberrr", a ver pronounced silence, mighty whoosh, when giant did drop
in the distance the bullocky was waiting with his team, whip cracking, chains a-rattle
to move this giant down the steep mountain, would be a very difficult job, a real battle

The bullocks pulled this way and that, the bullocky's colourful language renting the air
come on you lazy Molly, Daisy, you can do better, I want a bit more bloody pull there
steam rising from their backs, straining chains to breaking point, whip swooshing thru air
finall giant log started to move, this was the danger point, one had to take great care

Those were hectic days, no letting up of the arduous shifting of logs, more ahead
logs had to moved off mountain, come what may, one careless move, you'd be dead
they were held on embankments near the river, on which to be floated, after rain
there were many such places, to drag logs too far was dangerous, in this steep terrain

Soon rain did come, the logs released into the river, really dangerous work now began
guiding them over rapids, around bends, the untanglements when caught up in a jam
one had to be almost a ballet dancer, jumping from log to log, half submerged, wet
in past some lives were lost, crushed by logs, losing footing, sofar hadn't happened yet

As men and logs furiously sped past,looking on in awe, were the settlers along the river
watching those taking risks, even the thought of one slipping under logs, made you shiver
after hazarduous journey logs finally reached enormous millpond, this their holding yard
from here through the noisy saws, processing of beautiful timber would now really start.

THE OUTBACK OF AUSTRALIA . . .


Australia, a country of boundless plains,distances fast
sparse vegetation, dry, wet, changeable, creative contrast
thousands of square miles, here and there lonely homestead
part of our country, few of us really know, called "The Outback"

Spirit of kinship, hospitality, binds these people of this land
holding together a social structure via 'phone or radio band
education for their children, help in sickness or distress
brought to them, first by radio, then Flying Doctor, great success

Go, be enveloped, marvel at the timelessness, the immensity
be part of it's mystique, beauty, harshness, great diversity
ever changing landscape, wildlife, magic to behold setting sun
millions of stars at night, dawn chorus of birds, new day has begun

See Aboriginal rockpaintings, hear dreamtime stories behind all
birdlife, running rivers in wet season, magnificient waterfalls
feral animals in large numbers, camels, cats, wild pigs, brumbies
sight of great anthills, tall palms, canyons, sandy deserts, boab trees

Sound of mournful didgediroo, drifting on still air of tropical night
splashes in billabong, crocodiles, some animals to the death fight
great variety of insects, chicada's, mosquito's, howls of wild dogs
whoosh of flapping wings, music of night birds, croaking of frogs

Traveling in "The Outback", of it's dangers, loneliness, be fully aware
listen to advice from those who have been there, so you can prepare
once you've been there, realising the gullible vastness of our land
we've got it all here, holidays anywhere else seemingly quite bland

UNFORGIVING, BEWARE, IT CAN KILL . . .

Under eclectic blue sky, streaked with whispy cirrus clouds, white
moving across sweeping brown endless plain, awesome sight
silvery saltbush, acacia, to barely discernible horizon far away
a formidable, hot vista, no place for animals, even humans, to stay

Ground cover very tightly packed pebbles, this is the Gibber Plain
vegetation is virtually non-existent, this place crying out for rain
wedge-tailed eagles engaged in disputed terrritorial aerial display
on ground, camels, kangaroos in meagre shade, blistering hot day

A land stripped of all adornment, giving Gibber Plain it's allure
mean, unencumbered, mostly dry, hot, this is elemental nature
this mighty landscape has a harsh, physical beauty all of it's own
even early explorers realised that here nothing could ever be grown

In some parts, so-called "jump-ups", rising from the valley's floor
odd erosion shaped remnants of mountains that were here before
suddenly, sky opened, bolts of lightning, thunder, torrential rain drowning valley floor, beginning of transformation to grassy plain

One can almost feel the sighs of plants, animals, from heat relief
once again, unexpectedly, rain came to the rescue, however brief
creatures, plants, having adapted to the conditions that are harsh
managing, very cleverly in dry seasons, when feed, water are scarse

Here is, what is known as "Cameron Corner", by a simple survey post
the coming together of three States, NSW, SA, Queensland as host
it is also called "The Corner Country", west of Silver City, Broken Hill
a part of Australia, harsh, beautiful, unforgiving, beware, it can kill

ALMOST A PARADISE . . .

Many people in their life never venture much past front gate
nor travel our beautiful country, Australia, till almost too late
those that do, have memories of places they have been
diversity of landscapes, ghost towns, historical places seen

One such place could be a rainforest, after heavy rain
observing scintilitating colours in run-off, undulating terrain
tumbling past crazy angled boulders, moss covered trees
rushing in creekbed, into transparent pool, miniature seas

Underfoot a soggy mess, very careful here, slippery ground
brilliant fungi, colours of rainbow, on rotting trees abound
rays of dappled sunlight, magic, rarely touching forest floor
adding just finishing touch to overall wet rainforest decor

Makes you feel one with nature, your own world, feeling small
surrounded by all this beauty, almost a paradise, trees so tall
giant bird's nests ferns hanging from trees, buttressed trunks
here, there, signs of past vulcanic activity, old odd lava chunks

Spectacular views from some points high above the valley floor
on days of cloudless skies, see birds of prey majestically soar
sometimes this place is regarded as a birdwatcher's dream
maybe sight of rare bird, endangered species, seldom seen

On closer inspection, there is still more life than the eyes meet
great diversity of plant life, microscopic plant world under feet
a place full of wonder, nature's display of its everyday mystery
all for us to see, admire, storing for later, to revive memory

BEAUTIFUL, MYSTERIOUS, STRANGE . . . .

Not to be missed when traveling in this country is the Bungle Bungle Range
located in the East Kimberley, it's at once beautiful, mysterious, strange
Rising as a panorama of eroded crumpled sandstone hills, bee-hive like shapes
stark spires, jagged cliffs, natural phenomena of nature,, all real, no fakes

Rock walls of enormous heights trust themselves up from bare valley floor
tall Palm trees line the valley, and thrive in a soil that seems to be very poor
The gorges contain many offshoots, the groundcover a very resilient vegetation
dry creekbed with sun-bleached rocks, all shapes, all sizes, fires the imagination

Golden hues bathes scenery as the late afternoon sun strikes the massive wall
making them glow as if lit from within, already here, there, night predators call
One part is a series of domes in closed formation, like statues rising from the land
the impression is being conveyed of a carrillion, thrown there by a giant hand

Beware, it's easy to get lost, yet a must see, an elaborate, intriguing, natural maze
group of tall spires, black and orange striped domes shimmer in heat haze
Twisting tracks amongst a myriad of tall domes, short, fat, odd shapes and more
others like unfinished caves, some like coloured pancakes, plenty more to explore

One gets infected with a passion, never ever to be diappointed, in nature's quest
there is so much to see in every direction, always to be amazed by what was next
In the dry season there are occasional pools of water, to satisfy fauna's thirst
one can imagine thunderous cascades when monsoonal deluge makes them burst

Then there is the most beautiful hidden feature of all, when coming around a bend
amphitheatre filled with clear water, on other side small beach, pure white sand
When night falls, new perspective of ghost-like silhouettes before your very eyes
strange feelings envelop you, not easy to shrug off, no matter how hard you try

Often descibed as mysterious, remote, surreal, a place with whole new nature's feel
the magnitude is breath-taking, to human mind it seems to be completely unreal
To miss this natural attraction would be a shame, off course it's off the beaten track
having been caught up in it's magic, the urge doesn't ever leave you, to go back

BIRDWATCHING IN A HARSH LANDSCAPE

No-one would believe , at first glance, plants surviving at all
Saltbush, Bluebush, bunched low amongst Mallee, itself not tall
constantly buffeted by hot, dry, north winds of a treeless plain
knife-sharp cold south winds from Antarctica, bringing icy-cold rain

Breeze, caresssing Mallee, causing delicate melodies, when passing by
dusky silhouettes of dunes outlined against early morning sky
of the many bird songs heard , one stands out, the Currawong
quickly followed by other early risers with an equally beautifull song

Truly a bird watcher's paradise, isolated, well of the beaten track
once you've been there, the urge remains forever with you to go back
near seashore, colony of Penguins, in equal harsh conditions thrive
it is the only known mainland site where Australian Sea Lions survive

Old Telegraph Station lovingly restored, with museum out the back
elderly couple tending weather station, also of bird life keeping track
travel in these parts is far from easy, often with utter havoc wrought
bush tracks with razor sharp limestone rocks, driving requires thought

Sand drifts, claypans that turn into greasy quagmires after little rain
driving on ocean shore with seaweed everywhere, dangerous terrain
quietness, solitude, tranquility in landscape so harsh and yet pristine
it's a place where you can easily loose yourself and forget real time.

WHEN IN AUTUMN IT CALLS MY NUMBER . . .

It happens around autumn every year, it never fails to amaze
something inside me urges me to visit, again, my favourite place coinciding with longer nights, cold temperatures, dew on grass
every time have to decide to either go, or, this time shall I pass

It's a powerfull yearning for raw warmth, smell of Red-gum campfire
just me, the stars, soaking up sounds of bush, before one does retire
in my mind's eye take off like a Wedge-tail Eagle, soaring into night sky
a flight of fancy, any direction, across a million stars, can but try

Soaring over landscape, finding my favourite place, Mawson Plateau
been here before, long drive by car, undescribable impressive when go
once there, have to undertake strenuous day's walk, no access by car
setting the tone and appreciating landscape, it's really not that far

Tumbling granite tors, coloured ochre, spectacular, awesome, inspiring
razorback quartzite ridges slashed by deep gorges, painted Finches flying
around waterholes, skirted by flashbright sandbanks, well earned rest
gurgling streams, Red-capped Robins, statuesque Grass Trees, the best

Gentle rush of water, slipping over granite edge into polished rock hollow
circle of Sturt's Desert Pea, in bloom, when eyes the watercourse follow
changing colours of crazy rock formations, with every sunrise and sunset
nature has put here for you and me, grandeur of sights, colour pallette

Each night sit around Red-Gum campfire till finally it's embers are dying
looking back on day, stars above, bush sounds of night, very satisfying
slowly, reluctantly, crawl into sleeping bag for a peaceful nights slumber
would I eagerly answer call in autumn, when it again calls my number ?

FIVE MILLION SQUARE MILES . . .

FIVE MILLION SQUARE MILES OF ANCIENT LAND, POPULATION SPARSE
A LAND TORTURED BY FLOODS, FIRES, DROUGHT, BEARING IT'S SCARS
ENDLESS VISTAS, FAINT TRACKS ON LANDSCAPE OF MAN OR ANIMAL
SO REMOTE, FEW SIGNS OF HUMAN HABITATION, EVEN OF ABORIGINAL

WILD HORSES, BIRDS OF MANY COLOURS, WATER BUFFALO, CAMEL HERDS
FOSSILS OF EXTINCT ANIMALS THAT NEVER ANYWHERE ELSE OCCURED
ON ROCK FACES MANY CRUDE DRAWINGS BY EARLY ABORIGINAL MAN
DEPICTING HISTORY THROUGH THE AGES OF THIS WANDERING CLAN

SLOWY, SLOWLY, WHITE MAN CAME, WITH FORCE, STAKING HIS CLAIM
CONQUERING THE GREAT WILDERNESS, RAINFORESTS AND GIBBER PLAIN
TOWARDS HORIZON, FAR AWAY, NEVER COMING CLOSER, PROMISED LAND
BRINGING SHEEP, CATTLE, TAKING BIGGEST GAMBLE, OFTEN FATAL STAND

YEARS OF DROUGHT, FLOODS, FIRES, DESTROYING ALL, NOTHING LEFT
FRIGHTENING, SOUL DESTROYING, TOTALLY LEAVING ONE UTTERLY BEREFT IN SOME PLACES PEOPLE LIVE IN CAVES, COMFORTABLE, DEEP UNDERGROUND
TRYING TO ESCAPE THE RELENTLESS SUN'S HEAT, NEARLY ALL YEAR ROUND

A MAN'S COUNTRY, NOT A LIFE YOU'D SHARE WITH SOMEONE YOU LOVE
MILES FROM CIVILISATION, HUMAN BEINGS, WOMAN HAD TO TOUGH
THE INCONVENIENCE, RAISING CHILDREN, IN THIS HOSTILE ENVIRONMENT
VERY FEW TAKING UP THE CHALLENGE, TOGETHER, AS ONE, WORKING LAND

FIVE MILLION SQUARE MILES, HEARTBREAKING, YET FULL OF NEVER ENDING HOPE UNBELIEVABLE HARDSHIPS, LONELINESS, PEOPLE LEARN SOMEHOW TO COPE
IT'S CALLED "THE OUTBACK", "THE NEVER NEVER", "THE BACK OF BEYOND"
SURVIVING, STRENGHTENING, NEVER EVER LETTING GO, INVINCEABLE BOND

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STRANGER THAN FICTION . . . .

Something made them pause, brief look at one another, mere chance
a meeting of lost souls, giving rein to dormant Love, during a dance
an unknown force to both, suddenly coming to live, least expected
could this have been, by one or the other, a feeling of being rejected?

Different lifestyles, ages, nothing in common outwardly, so to say
yet seemingly inevitable dormant love had to be awakened this way
there are never any explanations for surprises in life's merry-go-round
to some, seemingly attuned to life, even these happenings, do astound

Enveloping them with strong Love in times of loneliness, not feeling bereft
a Love, proportinate emotions, encouraging respect, certainly no regret
more of a meeting of like minds, a platonic friendship of physical closeness
to see them together, of great Love between them, one would never guess

It brought emotions to the surface in each of them, which they never knew
balancing a daily life of which the high and lows are now infrequent, very few realising that, a great mystery in their life, is happening here and now
perhaps in future, not guarded carefully, will raise many a critical eyebrow

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A LAND OF FAR HORIZONS . . .

It's a world, young in earth time, in throes of creation still
full off fierce beauty, adventure, your senses it will thrill
battered by drought, drenched by rain, searing hot sun
cooled by ocean breezes, savage and yet serene in turn

To early explorers, not finding water, was greatest enemy
endless empty horizons, a very occasional stunted tree
lots of courage, tenacity, to explore this unforgiving land
for days alone, maybe encountering hostile Aboriginal band

Land of sometimes persistent hot sun, haunting, yet beautifull
after rain carpets of wild flowers, rain filled rock pool
glistening like black glass, meteriotic debris, in setting sun
different scenery slowly emerging, another night has begun

Millions of stars, full moon, lighting up this treeless plain
very few wild animals, wild dingo howls, distant sound of train
roar of faraway pounding sea, strange sounds of the night
most beautifull sunrises, animals of the night take flight

Along the coastline the early morning sun illuminates sea mist
thrown up by waves of pounding sea,upon these majestic cliffs
some rock falls, more poised to fall, a scar striped cliff face
labyrinth of underground caves, surface cracks, dangerous place

Inland, ruins of homesteads, graves of those trying to tame this land
nature, in it's wisdom, slowly covering them with shifting sand
those of us having been there, want to return, again and again
to experience it all again, the grandeur of the Nullarbor Plain

Passage of time celebrated . . . .


In the pastel light, after a hot day, in setting sun
upon the escarpment, in fissure, solitairy Ghost Gum
absorbing, on its twisted white limbs, dying sun's rays
higher up, among the rocks, surefooted wallabies play


In the sudden descending blackness of the tropical night
the quietness, the landscape becomes a different sight
there are no stark, brilliant colours by light of full moon
eerie shapes abound, shadows, night flowers bloom


Crocodiles in water courses, patiently waiting for prey
water buffalo, wild horses, thirsty, on edge, slowly try
on ground and overhead flocks of migratory birds
cacophony of sound, deafening, nothing else heard


Change of seasons from dry to wet, tattoo of rain
transforming parched landscape to endless green plain
the walls of sandstone gorges take on a whole new sheen
on some, simple Aboriginal paintings, a sight to be seen


The wet season has started, revitalising again this land
torrents of water, in, what was yesterday, a river of sand
sometimes the seasons change early, sometimes very late
an annual ritual, the passage of time it helps to celebrate

EXPLORING OUR MAGNIFICIENT COASTLINE . . . .

Traveling 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 these rocks was dashed
no rocks can withstand this relentless pounding of these waves
over thousands, millions of years, creating shapes and caves


The energy expended, traveling endless kilometres of open sea
blowholes, far inland, foam, spray above cliff tops, lone tree
there are reverberating thumps, booms, like thunder, at distance
in rough weather, don't venture 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 knobby underground roots, wildflowers profusely bloom in spring
Papery Sunray, Poached Egg Daisies, many more, large, some small if you listen, stand still, you may see Mallee Fowls, hear their call
most lakes connect to Murray River, do overflow after heavy rain
then, for many wetland birds, this becomes their breeding domain


White-bellied Sea Eagle, Pelican, Black Swan, variety of ducks too
Mulga Parrot, Egret, Euro, Western, Eastern and Grey kangaroo
traveling along The Great Ocean Road, many an unfamiliar sound
different horizons, changing coastline, scenery will astound
there are spectacular vistas on cloudy days with varied light
elements of nature relentlessly eroding The Great Australian Bight

GHOST TOWN . . .

There was an eerie silence in this place
of it's former inhabitants scarsely a trace
buildings, half fallen down,were built with dexterity
indicative of a very hard working people, prosperity


There a stone church, covered in vines, way up the hill
it's bell, in solid hand hewn timber tower, ever so still
it's metal parts rusted, immovable, devoid of any motion
no more like it used to be, alerting people to danger, devotion


The interior a richness of very fine craftsmanship proclaim
no more, since long ago, the sounds of joyuos Hymn's refrain
a place to worship, no distinction between the rich and humble
doors, if any, hanging askew, rotting floors, walls slowly crumble


No more Baptisms, Weddings, services for the dead
in memory of . . . . . faintly on windows of glass in lead
untended grave stones, tilted at crazy angles, in church yard
silent testimony to those who long ago, this life did depart


In wide, long main street, ruins of shops, large and small stores
maybe this or that one was the last one to close forever it's doors
those other buildings, they could have been some pubs
ornate wooden bars, dirt floors, here and there smoker's stubbs


This building here was the local school, over there the bank
you can also see, on stand, remains of town's rusted water tank
shire offices and hall, hospital, post office, police station
used for administering to the former large population


In village square there still stands an Obelisk, impressive, tall
insribed with names of those, in world conflicts, answered call
railway station, delapidated alongside overgrown track
rusted, unused by trains long departed, never to come back


A glimpse of a village or a town, in not too distant past
perhaps a very prosperous people, yet somehow didn't last
there is still plenty more to see and making you wonder
reasons how, why, it became a ghost town, it makes you ponder