remembering old times

[william williams]

some time back I wrote this and at the time I thought it needed more and so I add some remember this is audio so please read it out aloud and let me know what you think. because I think personally our work should be told out aloud to the public instead of hidden in some book shop

Remembering old times

There was an old hymn book laying, in the corner,
of an old decaying church, somewhere, back of Burke.
Where voices once were raised, singing praises of his worth.
And now with saddened feelings, an empty church is left.

The graveyard in the corner of that churchyard over there,
where stands a marble forest, for those to morn, who care.
That fickle hand of fate, leaving all that’s standing there,
while he stands in solum reverence, his hat held in his hand.

His grey head bowed in sorrow, gazed at his wedding band,
and remembered of those happy days many years ago.
He slowly turned and wandered over, to mount his weary horse,
To move this mob of cattle, and to plot another course.

The years have gone and passed as many seasons do,
and many droughts and floods have scoured the land,
and by that old forgotten grave yard, draped upon the rail.
Sat a saddle, with a, stock whip, lying there upon it's seat.

And old man lay beside a tombstone, words encrypted there.
Mary James aged seven, died in nineteen forty five.
And he clutched a head board, burnt with these words.
John James born 1916 followed by a child's prayer.

Now I lay me down to sleep
I pray the lord my soul to keep
Should I die before I wake
I pray the lord my soul to take

bill williams ©

[Maureen K Clifford]

Hiya Bill - verse 2 has too many IMO theres in it. There, there...now don't get upset

Would this work for you perhaps - yours to lose or use as you choose.



In the corner of the church grounds is the graveyard
a stand of marble forest – for those who mourn and care
One man in solemn reverence with his hat held in hand
stands remembering the loved one that’s placed there.


Cheers

Maureen

[Terry]

Way to go Bill - some things you just have to do in your own way mate.

Cheers Terry

[william williams]

thank you Maureen in the second stanza the middle THERE I have changed to Where and once again thanks

bill the old battler

[Gary Harding]

You certainly are talented Bill. Love it... ! What can one say?

Here is a version of verse No 2 that may inspire you to vary the wording structure. Just a passing thought, but that is what we are here for I guess, to polish .. suggest ... and all make the occasional blue!

The years have gone and seasons passed (as seasons mostly do).
And droughts and floods have marked the land — and marked the people too.
Still by that old forgotten grave, you see through paint and rust,
A saddle and stock whip that are hidden in the dust.

etc... and make the saddle and the stockwhip the focus of the poem.

Anyway you get my drift? next good verse of yours I want to see a Happy Subject though! please.

Well done anyway...


your friend, Gary

[Gary Harding]

Thanks for emailing me that descriptive piece Bill. It really brought the drovers camp alive! Remarkable. I played it several times.

It is a very rich source of subject material and inspires me to attempt a poem entitled The Drovers Camp, drawing on the vivid picture you describe. Well I will try anyway... not sure how it will go and I doubt it could capture in poetry what you have described so capably in prose.

It certainly helps to have actually Been There and Done it as you have and I hope I can do it justice.

I met the grandaughter of Jim Grahame (Jim Gordon) once and she told me the story of how when Henry Lawson stayed with Jim at Leeton, he was always listening-out for things, would put his ear to the wall to overhear conversations ... always gathering material for writing about country people. Henry was "a bit of a devil" she said.

So like most poets I keep an ear out too... why not.... and will try and do your prose some justice. Thanks again.... I appreciate your words and the word-pictures you draw

your very good friend, Gary