Victorian Open Bush Poetry Championships

Encouragement

 (Year 5 student)

 (Year 3 student)

3rd

3rd

Cutting Back
© Ron Stevens, Dubbo NSW

Here, have another beer, Old Mate, you look to be quite wrecked.
A beer or two helps insulate against this drought’s effect.
I’m sorry I can’t offer you a Scotch, but I’ve cut back
on costs and had a full review on spending I can hack.
That’s why I’m only drinking beer until we get some rain.
I’ve warned my children loud and clear we’re heading down the drain.

We’ve only got one telly set; I’ve sold the other two
to pay that greedy blasted vet whose bills were overdue.
So when the kids have finished all their farmyard jobs, they’re free
to watch the cricket or football I’ve picked that night for me.
To all of them, I’ve emphasised the nature of our plight:
economies must be devised and belts drawn ever tight.

I brushed aside their woeful bleats when I explained that Coke
and such expensive faddish treats had helped to send us broke;
that henceforth they would each partake of wholesome home-grown food
and water from the creek, to make a healthy happy brood.
We’d also rid the place of cats and guinea-pigs, galahs
- those unproductive pets my brats have spoiled like movie-stars.

I’d better raid the fridge again; your stubby’s empty, Mate.
The kids switch off when I explain we all must pull our weight.
My motives are unselfish, based on saving Woeful Creek
from greedy banks and hurdles placed by Nature, harsh and bleak.
I’ll keep my working dogs, of course; they don’t cost much to feed.
I doubt if I need keep the horse; my ute is all I need.

The hardest choice I’ve had to make, is what to do with Kate.
I don’t suppose you’d like to take her as a favour, Mate?
You often go away for weeks, so having her on site
might put those mongrel thieving sneaks you’ve suffered from, to flight.
She’s pretty slow to move, these days – arthritis due to age.
But put her somewhere, there she stays – no need for pen or cage.

She’d sleep okay out in your shed; is used to eating scraps
and as a treat some crusts of bread or sour milk, perhaps.
Her breeding days have long since gone; no problems there at all.
Yet since my tractor struck her scone, she’s useless, off the ball.
This euthanasia caper might be worth exploring, Mate.
But what if conscience were to bite and cause regret, too late?

I tell you what, if you take her, you’ll get two cartons too.
Agreed? Okay, would you prefer Fourex or Carlton brew?
Tomorrow then, let’s drink to that. I’m glad you’ve eased my mind.
No sentiment, just cutting fat; I’m cruel being kind.
My kids will holler at the gate and I might shed some tears
to see your van drive off with Kate, my wife of thirty years.

Beechley Calling
© Ellis Campbell, Dubbo NSW

When the autumn leaves have fallen and the frost gleams on the slope –
and the fertile fields lie fallow, stretching far in folds of brown –
I will dream again of Beechley with an everlasting hope,
and the comforting embracement of its spreading eiderdown.
Sixty years of love cascading from a distant, heatless town.

Oh, the poignant visions haunting of a time beyond recall,
when I wandered through its valleys, in a maze of boyhood dreams.
I remember balmy springtime and the shadows in the fall –
with a wave of aching sadness – how much sweeter now it seems!
Sixty years I blundered blindly, chasing hordes of empty schemes.

I remember early morning rides – before the rising sun –
dusky kangaroos all hopping in their regulated queues.
Hear the squawking crow’s drear calling echo over Beechley run –
see the craggy cliff tops looming with their everlasting views.
Sixty years I’ve vaguely hungered for some simple outback news.

And again I feel between my knees the chestnut gelding Tex –
feel his surging power thrill me as we race to wheel a steer.
There was never one to best him through the scrub and Spinifex,
as we mustered stock for drafting in the springtime every year.
Sixty years without my stockhorse, but tonight he seems so near.

Oh, the lathered flanks and swirling dust – I see so clearly yet –
hear the thundered hooves awakened and the horns resounding clash.
And again I smell the equine stench of foam-stained horses’ sweat –
hear the crunch of hooves on gravel and the broken timber’s crash.
Sixty years ago I left there in a search for better cash.

But the hazards of a drifter’s life waylaid me down the years –
when my drunken sprees and gambling took their toll with shamed regret.
It’s too late to voice my self-disgust or shed reproachful tears –
or to curse myself for foolishness I never can forget.
Sixty years of wasted lifetime leaves a galled repulsive debt.

To the westward wooded ranges sketched distinct in sky-lines hue,
and to nor’ward smudged horizons where the sky and earth entwine.
To the south calm water shimmered on a lake of distant blue,
and to eastward waved majestic stringy-bark and resin pine.
Sixty years these visions linger through this legacy of mine.

I see the azure bluebell, blooming on the mountainside,
and the sighing oaks along the river waving in the breeze.
Smell again the wattle’s fragrance as I wander misty-eyed –
see its yellow blossom clustered through a scene of waving trees?
Sixty years my mind has savoured many treasures such as these.

I can hear the cattle lowing and the foxes bay at night,
hear the mournful mopokes calling – see the jaunty emus stalk.
Hear the wallabies go crashing from intruders in their flight –
see the clumsy wombats waddle in their own peculiar walk.
Sixty years recalled nostalgia blurs my vision as I talk.

Let its warm west wind caress me as the sun is sinking low,
hear it rustle through the tree leaves as it whispers on its way.
Hear the bullocks’ bellow echo where the sluggish waters flow,
See the dust-clouds drifting dully on a droughty summer’s day.
Sixty years I’ve idly wandered through the regions far away.

To return’s a poignant longing, aching ever in my soul.
Could I see tomorrow dawning – feel its dew upon my cheek?
Taste the tang of mountain air again, beside a water hole –
hear the whispers gently murmured, only bushland creatures speak?
Sixty years of wistful longing, but my future’s looming bleak.

For the drab grey walls surround me where a pale light filters through,
and there’s aeroplanes in thousands with their never ending drone.
I hear whine of ceaseless traffic, flitting past, but out of view –
and the forms that vaguely mutter in a senseless monotone.
Sixty years left me a zombie in a nursing home alone.

The Eureka Stockade
© Naomi Frederick
Year 9 Girton Grammar School Bendigo Vic.

When the land was old but its people young,
A newly conquered place.
Not yet a nation, merely colonies
There were horrors still to face.

Horrors of injustice, indignity,
Blows that refused to fade.
Incited a revolution known as,
The Eureka Stockade

‘Twas small in size, though great in importance,
a strike for liberty.
Against their oppressors, and to silence,
The voice of tyranny.

The screams of the wounded shred the still air,
The hurt, the dying, the dead.
Clashing of weapons, the crying, the noise,
The beat of the soldier’s tread.

Frustration and resentment boil over,
In a cataclysmic brawl.
The heat gone to heads, the anger, the pain,
Very nearly killed them all.

Though ultimately they were overpowered,
Their deaths were not in vain.
In our history their sacrifice was,
A stand against the pain.

The diggers showed us what brave men do,
Answering the bugles call.
And every one has the power to,
Make better lives for all.

The Dingo
© Ruby Salter
Grade 2 Harcourt Valley Vic.

At the pub I saw a dingo,
Having a beer and playing bingo.

He couldn’t go home because he was drunk,
So he stayed at the pub until he stunk.

He was so stinky there were flies around,
So they took him outside and threw him to the ground.

They turned a hose on the Stinky Dingo,
And soon he was back playing bingo.

The Victorian Open Bush Poetry Championships were held over the weekend of 16-18 October 2009 at the Benalla Bowls Club.

The weekend began with an Australiana concert that included the inaugural Yarn-spinning competition. Sue Gleeson compered this concert and did a great job. The Yarn-spinning competition proved to be a worthy addition to the program; there were good crowds on hand to watch and the quality of the yarns presented was first-class. Ed Walker was the winner, just in front of Chris Canty.

Saturday morning kicked off with a poets’ breakfast, hosted by Ed Walker. As a possible first with poets’ breakfasts, it was a “bring your own breakfast” poets’ breakfast.

This was followed by the Original Poem section of the competition. The scene was set for what was to come during the rest of the weekend – the quality of the performances was again to a very high standard. In the Men’s, John Peel finished as the winner with his performance of “The True Story of the Kelly Gang”. Lynne Frederick was the winner of this section of the Women’s for the second year running with her poem, “Mr Ninety-eight Percent” – a poem that is likely to be a very popular one for her in the future. A new performer, Edwina Barber from Kyneton was the Novice winner, with “A Day at the Trots”.

After the lunch break, competition resumed with the Original Song section. Hair-dresser and Benalla-based farmer, Jim Carlisle was the winner with his song, “My First Day in the Salon”, a humorous account of his first day as a hairdresser.

Following the Original Song, the Traditional Poem section was then contested. The interesting part about this section of the competition this year was the dominance of Henry Lawson poems. There were six Lawson poems to only four of Paterson’s. Again the standard was very high. The Women’s section of the competition was taken out by Betty Walton with Henry Lawson’s “The Squatter’s Daughter”. Jim Brown’s performance of Will Ogilvie’s “The Overlanders” earned him first place in the Men’s. Edwina Barber was the winner of the Novice with Banjo’s “Mulga Bill’s Bicycle”. Tom O’Connor’s performance of CJ Dennis’s “La-De-La Lane” earned him the Intermediate prize.

A second Australiana concert was held on Saturday night. It was a chance for the competitors to see that the judges know their stuff when it comes to performing. All of the poetry and music judges performed during the concert. Maurie Foun compered the first part of the concert and was followed by the two lovely ladies from Fountain Lakes, Kath and Kim. The Other Song section was contested during the concert. Reg Phillips proved a very worthy winner with “Where Country Is”. Reg Phillips was the overall champion in the Music section, with Jim Carlisle finishing as the runner-up.

Sunday morning’s poets’ breakfast was hosted by John Peel and Annette Roberts, again a “bring your own breakfast” poets’ breakfast. The poets’ breakfasts on both days were both good, no-pressure affairs for budding poets to get up and perform.

The Contemporary section of the competition kicked off at 10am on Sunday morning. A great selection of modern poems were performed by the performers and as with the previous sections, to a very high standard. The Women’s winner was Molly Sparks with the Anonymous poem, “Ode to a Mammogram”. Noel Bull’s brilliant performance of Murray Hartin’s “Rain from Nowhere” earned him the Men’s top prize as well as the Novice prize in this section – it was a great first-time win.

After lunch, competition resumed with the junior sections. It was great to see such a good number of junior performers this year. In the primary section, there were a total of nine performers – the best representation of juniors at the Victorian Championships since the inception of the VBPMA. The winner of the primary school section (Kindergarten to Year 6) was Bradley O’Meara with Banjo Paterson’s “Clancy of the Overflow”. The winner of the secondary school section (Year 7 to Year 12 and Under 19) was Naomi Frederick.

Ed Walker and Lynne Frederick were the respective men’s and women’s champions, with John Peel and Annette Roberts the respective runner-ups.

Reg Phillips was the compere over the weekend for all of the poetry sections and he did a great job of keeping the competitions moving and keeping the audience entertained between performers while the judges were finalising their judging sheets.

The judges of the competition over the weekend were Jan Lewis, Bill O’Connor and Col Drischoll in the yarn-spinning; Col Milligan, Col Drischoll and Maggie Murphy in the poetry; and Maggie Murphy, Eileen McPhillips and Jim Brown in the music. All of the judges did a brilliant job considering how difficult it must have been to separate competitors based on the quality of the performances.

All of the performance competitors in this year’s championships are to be praised for giving their all in the competition. The standard this year was fantastic, congratulations to you all regardless of where you were placed.

It was great to find out that some of the crowd had travelled great distances to attend the championships – there were some that came from as far away as Brisbane.

Poems in the Open Written section were received from all over Australia and the writers need to be congratulated on the high standard of their work. David Campbell had the difficult task of finding the winners of these sections of the competition. In the open section, dual champions were Ron Stevens and Ellis Campbell, both of Dubbo NSW. Both were very different poems; Ron’s “Cutting Back” a humorous poem with a killer punch line and Ellis’s “Beechley Calling” a very moving poem. For those that asked for a critique, David put a great amount of work into giving good, constructive comments to help them improve their writing.

The Junior sections received the best response seen since the formation of the VBPMA. In one of these sections, there was an entry from as far away as the UK. The Kindergarten to Year 4 section was won by Ruby Salter of Harcourt with her humorous poem, “The Dingo”. In the Year 5 to Year 6 section, the winner was Emma McGregor with her very imaginative poem, “The Legend of Silver Arrow”. Naomi Frederick added another junior title under her belt with her historical poem, “The Eureka Stockade” in the Year 7 to Year 12 section of the competition.

Congratulations also need to go out to all of the written competitors for the high standard of their work.

The Victorian Open Bush Poetry Championships will be held next year over the weekend of 15-17 October. Please add this date to your calendar as you are bound to be attending a fantastic weekend of entertainment.

John Peel
Assistant Secretary VBPMA