The Lady Of The Lakes
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The Lady Of The Lakes
There really was a ‘Lady of the Lakes’, and yes I did meet her once.
Though perhaps it was a little bit different than what the poem suggests.
THE LADY OF THE LAKES - 1
Around the outback campfires there’s a yarn I’d often heard,
about the ‘lady of the lakes’, although the facts were blurred.
Her beauty is exceptional; or so the story goes,
but whether she is real or not – well no one really knows?
Just like a ghost she may appear, then suddenly she’s gone,
and so these stories tend to grow each time that they’re passed on.
Her face is like an angels and her hair shines burnished gold,
a mystic nymph who roams the lakes; or so I had been told.
Some say she seeks out prospectors, when life has been unkind,
those lonely souls who search for gold but never seem to find.
To others she is searching for a sweetheart from the past,
and doomed to roam the great salt lakes until he’s found at last.
It’s said her voice is sometimes heard when stars are shining bright,
sad songs they say sung far away, drift faintly through the night.
These sightings are quite rare I’m told, and few have seen her face,
and those who have are hard to find, and harder still to trace.
The outback’s full of yarns of course and most you can’t believe
although - I thought I saw her once - one balmy summer’s eve.
I may have been mistaken; yet I’m confident I’m right;
for though near dark I glimpsed her there across the lake that night.
I’d never taken notice of beliefs that some may share.
yet something seemed to tell me, I was not alone out there.
I dozed off by my campfire then the way I often do;
perhaps I had been dreaming – dreamt what happened next was true?
I’d swear I sensed her soft lips as they gently brushed my cheek,
and heard her fading footsteps heading off towards the creek.
I woke up with a start then; still convinced that she was near,
and watched the bushes moving where I saw her disappear.
Perhaps I’d been mistaken for the one she’d long searched for;
a sweetheart who had perished in the gold rush years before.
Or was it all imagined; just a dream that seems so real
my mind remains a captive to emotions that I feel?
I’ve camped back there now many times, though haven’t seen her since
and most who hear my story I’m unlikely to convince,
Yet every time I’m near the lakes I look around in vain
And wonder if our paths will cross somewhere out there again
Though as the years pass slowly by the doubts begin to grow;
how can I be so sure then when I have no proof to show?
Yet in my mind there still resides clear memories of this
and even though it’s forty years I cherish still her kiss.
© T.E. Piggott
Though perhaps it was a little bit different than what the poem suggests.
THE LADY OF THE LAKES - 1
Around the outback campfires there’s a yarn I’d often heard,
about the ‘lady of the lakes’, although the facts were blurred.
Her beauty is exceptional; or so the story goes,
but whether she is real or not – well no one really knows?
Just like a ghost she may appear, then suddenly she’s gone,
and so these stories tend to grow each time that they’re passed on.
Her face is like an angels and her hair shines burnished gold,
a mystic nymph who roams the lakes; or so I had been told.
Some say she seeks out prospectors, when life has been unkind,
those lonely souls who search for gold but never seem to find.
To others she is searching for a sweetheart from the past,
and doomed to roam the great salt lakes until he’s found at last.
It’s said her voice is sometimes heard when stars are shining bright,
sad songs they say sung far away, drift faintly through the night.
These sightings are quite rare I’m told, and few have seen her face,
and those who have are hard to find, and harder still to trace.
The outback’s full of yarns of course and most you can’t believe
although - I thought I saw her once - one balmy summer’s eve.
I may have been mistaken; yet I’m confident I’m right;
for though near dark I glimpsed her there across the lake that night.
I’d never taken notice of beliefs that some may share.
yet something seemed to tell me, I was not alone out there.
I dozed off by my campfire then the way I often do;
perhaps I had been dreaming – dreamt what happened next was true?
I’d swear I sensed her soft lips as they gently brushed my cheek,
and heard her fading footsteps heading off towards the creek.
I woke up with a start then; still convinced that she was near,
and watched the bushes moving where I saw her disappear.
Perhaps I’d been mistaken for the one she’d long searched for;
a sweetheart who had perished in the gold rush years before.
Or was it all imagined; just a dream that seems so real
my mind remains a captive to emotions that I feel?
I’ve camped back there now many times, though haven’t seen her since
and most who hear my story I’m unlikely to convince,
Yet every time I’m near the lakes I look around in vain
And wonder if our paths will cross somewhere out there again
Though as the years pass slowly by the doubts begin to grow;
how can I be so sure then when I have no proof to show?
Yet in my mind there still resides clear memories of this
and even though it’s forty years I cherish still her kiss.
© T.E. Piggott
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Re: The Lady Of The Lakes
Could have been a fox having a sniff of your cheek
Good yarn Terry.
Good yarn Terry.
Neville
" Prose is description, poetry is presence " Les Murray.
" Prose is description, poetry is presence " Les Murray.
Re: The Lady Of The Lakes
I enjoyed the yarn and the mystery too Terry. It sounds as though she's whatever you want her to be - as a mysterious lady should be.
Heather
Heather
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Re: The Lady Of The Lakes
Thanks Neville & Heather
Hi Neville, the most memorable thing about foxes that springs to mind was the one who kept running off with my mate Johns boots.
They used to get a bit pongy so were not allowed in the camp. John would have to search some mornings to find them,
but the smell was so bad that even the foxes would abandon them pretty quick.
Hi Heather, I will if I can get motivated one day write the true story of 'The Lady of the Lakes' and how the myth started.
But as I have said there really was a 'Lady of the Lakes'.
Cheers
Terry
Hi Neville, the most memorable thing about foxes that springs to mind was the one who kept running off with my mate Johns boots.
They used to get a bit pongy so were not allowed in the camp. John would have to search some mornings to find them,
but the smell was so bad that even the foxes would abandon them pretty quick.
Hi Heather, I will if I can get motivated one day write the true story of 'The Lady of the Lakes' and how the myth started.
But as I have said there really was a 'Lady of the Lakes'.
Cheers
Terry
- Maureen K Clifford
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Re: The Lady Of The Lakes
A Wilhemina of the wisp perhaps
Check out The Scribbly Bark Poets blog site here -
http://scribblybarkpoetry.blogspot.com.au/
I may not always succeed in making a difference, but I will go to my grave knowing I at least tried.
http://scribblybarkpoetry.blogspot.com.au/
I may not always succeed in making a difference, but I will go to my grave knowing I at least tried.
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Re: The Lady Of The Lakes
Wait for the book & movie Maureen
Matt, as you no doubt know mate, they say you need to be either an optimist, a dreamer, or an idiot to be a prospector (preferably all three) There are some unkind blokes I know who reckon who reckon I'm over qualified.
Terry
Matt, as you no doubt know mate, they say you need to be either an optimist, a dreamer, or an idiot to be a prospector (preferably all three) There are some unkind blokes I know who reckon who reckon I'm over qualified.
Terry
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Re: The Lady Of The Lakes
G/day Matt
I've always been a super optimist probably to a fault at times.
Nealy all the full time prospectors I know are - mind you I've seen a few of them walking around with the a--- out of their strides as well.
Cheers Mate
Terry
I've always been a super optimist probably to a fault at times.
Nealy all the full time prospectors I know are - mind you I've seen a few of them walking around with the a--- out of their strides as well.
Cheers Mate
Terry
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Re: The Lady Of The Lakes
If it wasn't for the distance Terry, I'd say you've been helping yourself to Bobs rum.
A great yarn.
Cheers
Sue
A great yarn.
Cheers
Sue
the door is always open, the kettles always on, my shoulders here to cry on, i'll not judge who's right or wrong.
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Re: The Lady Of The Lakes
Sue; that's like a dagger to my heart - would I make something like this up?
There is a smidgen of truth in this yarn - one day, Ill tell all.
Cheers
Terry
There is a smidgen of truth in this yarn - one day, Ill tell all.
Cheers
Terry
- Catherine Lee
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Re: The Lady Of The Lakes
Great job Terry! This is filled with mystery and very well written, and of course a wonderful story - I love poems like this!