ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

I chose to write about a time and choice that was to change my life
and I can say now, I have no regrets.


At the Crossroad – The Opal Days

I was looking for a new life, though not knowing what or where,
with my life stuck at a crossroad, and with little cash to spare.
Fate can be a thing of chance that guides the likes of blokes like me,
and I often wonder now if that’s the way it’s meant to be.

To a dusty town where gems were found is where I chose to go,
as I left behind the old ways more than fifty years ago.
for a new life seemed to beckon and a boyhood dream came true,
and it’s there old mate our friendship grew, for you had your dreams too.

In an old brush hut we set up camp away from all the fuss,
it was hot as hell and dusty but was good enough for us.
For beneath this arid landscape there were fortunes to be made,
but you needed to be hardy if you wished to make the grade.

Armed with just a pick and shovel plus a little jelly too,
we had bent our backs and prayed for luck the way all gougers do.
Sinking shafts out on the flats or sometimes high up on a hill,
finding only potch and colour as our funds shrunk further still.

Summer heat was at it’s hight, but there was work that must be done,
hoping that the next shaft sunk that day would prove to be the one.
For you had to be a dreamer and look hopefully ahead,
praying you will hit it big but finding only scraps instead.

Nothing could deter us as we fought to keep our doubts at bay,
and we hid our disappointments well, should any come our way.
So we always stuck together and our problems we would share,
such a mate is hard to find, but you old friend were always there.

Life out there was hard it must be said, and food was scarce as well,
with the cupboard all but empty and no opal found to sell.
On our single burner primus we would cook or boil a brew,
though some half stale bread with bully beef would often have to do.

It was desperation led us to a derelict old show,
and then tempted us to clamber down some eighty feet below.
With a slender rope our only means we nervously climbed down,
dodging bits of crumbing shaft that started falling all around.

By the glow of carbide-light we peered into the gloom ahead,
where the dark and eerie drives emerged as silent as the dead.
You could almost sense the guiding hand of those who came before,
urging us to try and bring this old mine back to life once more.

Mullock still lay scattered and the old show looked a waste of time,
yet we had a sense it once had shone when it was in its prime.
So we fired some shots there more in hope with just some trace in sight,
then came back to check them out as usual, later on that night.

As we clambered down again that forlorn tinge of hope came too,
foolish though this is we know, it’s still the thing we always do.
With our carbide lamps for light we looked to where the shots had been,
and then thought we must be dreaming at the magic sight now seen.

Large thick seams of brilliant opal were there showing in the face,
with bright colours flashing reds and greens, where once was only trace
It was then I knew the die was cast this was the life for me
I would go on chasing dreams like this, whatever they may be

More than fifty years have passed on by now since those magic days,
though the memory burns bright still of that opals fiery blaze.
When I left the opal life with other dreams to yet explore,
it was hard to say goodbye and leave the life I shared before.


© T.E. Piggott

Wow! It's a beauty, Terry - you took me right down the shaft with you! Rivetted to the end!

The Blackened Billy is coming up ... just a thought ...

Cheers
Shelley

Thanks Shelley
It still need a fair bit of work on it, I didn't realize how long this would take, it started out as a regular homework poem,
but ended up like this.
As for Comps I think this type of poem has fallen out of favour these days, though thanks for suggesting it.

Regards

Terry

Absolutely agree with Shelley - this is wonderful Terry, and I was right there along with you. Goose bumps rose at your discovery of those brilliant colours. The Opal is apparently my birthstone, and I've always loved it. This gives such fascinating personal insight into your past, and of course, your great love of this gem. Thoroughly enjoyed reading this poem!

Thanks Catherine

I have written about my opal days before.
But this time I thought I'd explain how it all started,
and how it was the start of a lifetime of prospecting.
As a matter of interest my old opal mining mate is still in Coober Pedy,
and we are still the best of mates some fifty years later.

Terry

Hi Terry

I was very interested in your comment ...

I think this type of poem has fallen out of favour these days

That raises an interesting point - because I too, have noticed a very definite change in judges' preferences in the last couple of years. Can I ask - why is it you feel that poems such as yours are not as "popular" on the competition circuit?

Can I just say as an aside - this type of poem certainly hasn't fallen out of favour with me!

Cheers
Shelley

Hi Shelley

It might be just my imagination.

I seemed to start noticing a difference starting shortly after the forum bust up, coupled with a changing of the guard on the committee.
Judging rules changed too, before you had to achieve a certain standard in written comps to be qualified.
Now anyone can judge, I think the idea was that the rules were too strict as they were.

War poems are still as popular as ever, but real bush poems seem to have lost their earlier appeal.
The other thing I think has had a bearing on it, is many judges are looking for more modern poems suitable for performing.
There has been a lot of talk over the years that we need to become more urban in our outlook.
Indeed there has at times been suggestions that using the name 'Bush Poetry' is not really the most suitable name to have.

But as I said in the beginning perhaps it's just my imagination.

Terry

Interesting comments, Terry.

I guess there are two aspects in what you are saying - the topics of poems, and their quality.

I absolutely agree that since the judging rules and score sheet have changed and many of the guidelines removed, there has been a drop in the standard of some poems winning competitions. I know that's a sweeping statement, and it certainly doesn't apply to all competitions, and certainly not to all winning poems. When you think of how much work went into establishing those rules and guidelines in the first place, it is quite disappointing that they were swept away in one fell swoop, so to speak. As you rightly say, we all used to have to meet certain standards and criteria if we expected to be shortlisted in a written bush poetry competition.

It's all very well to relax the rules in favour of making things easy or simply having poems that sound good around a campfire, but as we know, the criteria of bush poetry includes the requirement that it be correctly rhymed and metred. If it's not, then it's not bush poetry. It may be valid in other genres, but not this one. It's like writing a 16 line poem and expecting it to win a sonnet competition. It might be fabulous, but it's not a sonnet, so it doesn't meet the criteria.

Regarding topics of modern bush poems, I think it depends very much on the judge and the competition. As you know, I tackle a mixture of traditional and modern topics, and I think there is room for both. Banjo and Henry wrote on the modern topics of their day - so why not us? At the same time I think it is vitally important to preserve our history in verse. When it comes to competitions, I guess you come to have a feel for which ones will welcome modern subjects, and which prefer traditional "life on the land" topics. As for those competitions which regularly change judges - it's always going to be a shot in the dark.

I know that if I was judging, the topic would be less important to me than the quality of the writing - accurate rhyme and metre on an Aussie subject or theme, and I'd be looking for the winner to give me that something extra in the way of emotion, personal touch, word pictures or rivetting story - to make me say "wow!"

Cheers
Shelley

Hi Shelley

I was just making a casual observation, I certainly haven't an axe to grind myself.
In fact i didn't really write anything new much last year except homework poems,
but have written a couple of new ones this year, be interesting to see if they do any good.
I agree with you though, we should always be striving to improve ourselves regardless of what style we prefer to write,
It's a pity David isn't still active on the forum, he quite rightly kept stressing the need to maintain a high standard.

I guess we have all flirted with the idea that perhaps we could relax the rules a little, but eventually you realize,
there is a need to preserve the high standards and not just change things to try and make it easier.
There seems to be only one answer, you have to keep on trying to improve,
that's the reason many of us started entering comps in the first place.

Cheers

Terry

Couldn’t agree more, Terry ... and you are a prime example of continually striving for excellence - with your winning poems as evidence. Onward and upward and yes, we must keep on keeping on!