Submissions by oldgolfer
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
I've been writing poetry for about four years, and prefer poems about people and places more than feelings.
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
9th Sep 2019 5:01am
9th Sep 2019 5:01am
The Cold And The Coal
Elbows buff the brass lamps
They are as fine as any
In the half light they are great golden orbs
or, as now, a faint gilded edge on black
The men are in early
They pulled this engine from a river
It was heavy with silt
They burnished and rebuilt
On steaming days
she spits and hisses
There is a glow in the cab,
the shadow of a man,
a sheen on his brow
This is a rare pleasure;
encased fire, rough physics
When the great beast lurches
clanking, screeching
the driver and stoker lean out
to suck in the cold...
They are as fine as any
In the half light they are great golden orbs
or, as now, a faint gilded edge on black
The men are in early
They pulled this engine from a river
It was heavy with silt
They burnished and rebuilt
On steaming days
she spits and hisses
There is a glow in the cab,
the shadow of a man,
a sheen on his brow
This is a rare pleasure;
encased fire, rough physics
When the great beast lurches
clanking, screeching
the driver and stoker lean out
to suck in the cold...
#freedom
349 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
4th Sep 2019 5:06am
4th Sep 2019 5:06am
The Hat With A Band
The hat is where he left it
He is not in the field
or on a stuttering tractor
The years have passed
I still expect a work-rough hand
to flip it over that comb-over
Its poor brim is bent down
He pulled at it in habit -
wore it in rain and sun, and
before he sloshed soapy water
on his face, he hung it at the door
It made a little thump as the rim
hit the frame
We have memories and faded prints
But there is nothing so precious
as feeling the sweat on the band
and the little red feather tucked within
He is not in the field
or on a stuttering tractor
The years have passed
I still expect a work-rough hand
to flip it over that comb-over
Its poor brim is bent down
He pulled at it in habit -
wore it in rain and sun, and
before he sloshed soapy water
on his face, he hung it at the door
It made a little thump as the rim
hit the frame
We have memories and faded prints
But there is nothing so precious
as feeling the sweat on the band
and the little red feather tucked within
#grief
316 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
30th Aug 2019 4:35am
30th Aug 2019 4:35am
Blue Ribbon and Brine
The river here bends on itself
It sprawls on gravel,
tumbles on log and stick
It is at the end of its run
It has come through gorge
and shingle fan;
it breaks around the skinny legs of birds,
then deepens as the braids conjoin
Now it is not a river, but a slow deep mass
It glides between cliff and shingle bar
With a swish, it is gone
The mouth shifts with the river’s moods:
up the coast and down
It enters the brine
where bright cottages stood
They have gone; lost to unsteady ground
Soon the whitebaiters will...
It sprawls on gravel,
tumbles on log and stick
It is at the end of its run
It has come through gorge
and shingle fan;
it breaks around the skinny legs of birds,
then deepens as the braids conjoin
Now it is not a river, but a slow deep mass
It glides between cliff and shingle bar
With a swish, it is gone
The mouth shifts with the river’s moods:
up the coast and down
It enters the brine
where bright cottages stood
They have gone; lost to unsteady ground
Soon the whitebaiters will...
#nature
383 reads
4 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
19th Aug 2019 4:59am
19th Aug 2019 4:59am
Tears Salted The Earth
He was from a farm which promised much and delivered little
It sat in the low hills inland from the coast,
all shadows and bullrush and dripping gullies
A four-room home –
two at the back, two in the front and hardly a chair on which to sit
They were, he said, poor in all but spirit
They worked until they bent or broke
It made him, he said
He got out when he could because he did not want
to waste a life thrusting posts into soggy ground
He shore and fenced and built
All the while he saved
When the bank
dropped its...
It sat in the low hills inland from the coast,
all shadows and bullrush and dripping gullies
A four-room home –
two at the back, two in the front and hardly a chair on which to sit
They were, he said, poor in all but spirit
They worked until they bent or broke
It made him, he said
He got out when he could because he did not want
to waste a life thrusting posts into soggy ground
He shore and fenced and built
All the while he saved
When the bank
dropped its...
#strength
#courage
#motivational #TimeHeals
#motivational #TimeHeals
360 reads
3 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
5th Aug 2019 3:32am
5th Aug 2019 3:32am
The Land, Always The Land
He has come out with a stick
It is carved beech with a bone handle
Paua* eyes shine along its length
This is my neighbour
His frame is weak, racked
with arthritis and its friend,
pain
He calls across the valley
“Got your spuds in yet?’’
This is what it comes to:
He could talk on the wisdom
of protecting Hormuz,
or how to make money (and keep it);
could mention those who watch him struggle
But it comes back to the land
“Not yet – but soon,” I say.
He shuffles forward, the paua glinting
“Don’t leave it too...
It is carved beech with a bone handle
Paua* eyes shine along its length
This is my neighbour
His frame is weak, racked
with arthritis and its friend,
pain
He calls across the valley
“Got your spuds in yet?’’
This is what it comes to:
He could talk on the wisdom
of protecting Hormuz,
or how to make money (and keep it);
could mention those who watch him struggle
But it comes back to the land
“Not yet – but soon,” I say.
He shuffles forward, the paua glinting
“Don’t leave it too...
#kindness
#strength
#courage #admiration
#courage #admiration
338 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
15th Jul 2019 2:31am
15th Jul 2019 2:31am
Back of Beyond
I’m off, I said.
Where?
Back of Beyond
Pardon?
Past the Black Stump
You jest?
Not me, mate – it’s up the Boo-Aye
Where?
Up The Back
There is no such place, surely?
You reckon?
Well there is – I’m going Troppo
God lord
You won’t find me, I’m gonna shoot through
A rifle?
Listen here, ya drongo, I’m headin’ off -
The Styx
I do not understand
Well you wouldn’t, mate
You’re a city fella. Know nothing
I’m going to the Wops
The Wops?
Yeah, turn left at Yackandah
Oh I see
Nah,...
Where?
Back of Beyond
Pardon?
Past the Black Stump
You jest?
Not me, mate – it’s up the Boo-Aye
Where?
Up The Back
There is no such place, surely?
You reckon?
Well there is – I’m going Troppo
God lord
You won’t find me, I’m gonna shoot through
A rifle?
Listen here, ya drongo, I’m headin’ off -
The Styx
I do not understand
Well you wouldn’t, mate
You’re a city fella. Know nothing
I’m going to the Wops
The Wops?
Yeah, turn left at Yackandah
Oh I see
Nah,...
#funny
351 reads
2 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
9th Jul 2019 5:05am
9th Jul 2019 5:05am
Denim Allure
#lust
#sex
#erotic
461 reads
4 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
2nd Jul 2019 4:56am
2nd Jul 2019 4:56am
A Farmer's Night
The cottage stands alone,
verandah posts askew,
the hand-sawn walls buckled
At its heart is a coal-range
Its wooden floor is shiny with wear
The old farmer comes in alone
He fills the range with sticks,
his gut with liquor
There is no food
No music
No wife
The heat trickles out[;
he listens to the night -
the wind in the grass,
the swoop of a bird.
He hears his dogs, too,
stretching the chain
The cold falls
verandah posts askew,
the hand-sawn walls buckled
At its heart is a coal-range
Its wooden floor is shiny with wear
The old farmer comes in alone
He fills the range with sticks,
his gut with liquor
There is no food
No music
No wife
The heat trickles out[;
he listens to the night -
the wind in the grass,
the swoop of a bird.
He hears his dogs, too,
stretching the chain
The cold falls
#winter
367 reads
0 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
2nd Jul 2019 4:44am
2nd Jul 2019 4:44am
A Stream's Journey
Iron rods and hardwood sleepers
channel what is left of this stream
It finds its way around boulders,
is scooped aside by a wall of stones
to settle at an iron gate
Then it unrolls across the plain
It was harnessed
to quench the land’s thirst
Settlers, they said, were wide-eyed
as a finger of water settled the dust
channel what is left of this stream
It finds its way around boulders,
is scooped aside by a wall of stones
to settle at an iron gate
Then it unrolls across the plain
It was harnessed
to quench the land’s thirst
Settlers, they said, were wide-eyed
as a finger of water settled the dust
#earth
#water
#nature
305 reads
0 Comments
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
24th Jun 2019 2:59am
24th Jun 2019 2:59am
What I Saw Today
A hawk in a fence
clawing the air
A river surge
over stone
Frost bleed from
a stone face
An old man’s hands
shake as he sought to speak
An old woman
rise from a wheelchair
A young woman
confronted with truth
The rotting wheel of a
wool wagon
A woman beam as she
banged a dinner gong
A rabbit scurry
under a red stable
clawing the air
A river surge
over stone
Frost bleed from
a stone face
An old man’s hands
shake as he sought to speak
An old woman
rise from a wheelchair
A young woman
confronted with truth
The rotting wheel of a
wool wagon
A woman beam as she
banged a dinner gong
A rabbit scurry
under a red stable
#kindness
#strength
#inspirational #redemption
#inspirational #redemption
357 reads
3 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
20th Jun 2019 1:50am
20th Jun 2019 1:50am
A Mountain's Hold
You hold many
in icy folds
Old and young
frozen in
limb and boot;
anguish, surprise
locked for time
Those who conquer
rejoice;
those who fail
you keep
Your stone face
betrays no emotion
Axe or rope
will be of no use
when my face
darkens
in icy folds
Old and young
frozen in
limb and boot;
anguish, surprise
locked for time
Those who conquer
rejoice;
those who fail
you keep
Your stone face
betrays no emotion
Axe or rope
will be of no use
when my face
darkens
#earth
340 reads
3 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
18th Jun 2019 3:58am
18th Jun 2019 3:58am
I Want
I want to
be held in
your gaze;
regard
the form,
the lips,
the tresses;
be locked,
bound
by flesh
be held in
your gaze;
regard
the form,
the lips,
the tresses;
be locked,
bound
by flesh
#love
556 reads
6 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by oldgolfer
