A POET, MUST BE, HE CAN’T AFFORD SHOES.

A POET, GIVE ME A BREAK, COULDN’T EVEN RECITE HUMPTY DUMPTY.

And so folks, just to set the mood, I have included a little ‘cogitation’. I will add more as time progresses also adding a link to my book of rhyming prose, hope you get the gist of my story.

 

MY AUSTRALIAN “BUSHY” POEMS.

 

ARAGUNNU BLOKES HAVE I STUFFED UP? HAVE I BROKEN THE SPELL? 

The greater Araguunu Aboriginal tribe, The Ngarigo, the Bogan people, the original people, they are still there.

Let me share with you my misty visions of that little boy above. I sincerely believe my young mind was full of  mysticism and a never ending memory of a place on the far South Coast of N.S.W., Australia.

 

WIKIPEDIA may give you a better understanding of the original owners, maybe you will have a dream about the native people in your world.

Don’t let it fade.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ngarigo 

 

MOON BAY IS EMBEDDED IN MY MIND, you may know this place by a different name, everybody has been there, that’s our special place, remember. Come on boys and girls, drop off the crappy life, go back a step and enjoy some times so good. May I take you to my place of reflection, I sense yours. Yes.

Just like yours my Moon Bay exists, it may be and is a real place; I was maybe 9 when I first witnessed this mystic place. Let’s go there, I have to include you because you are my special friends, so let’s go and have the DREAMTIME, al la ‘White Bloke’.

TATHRA PUB, TO MOON BAY, THE JOURNEY, YOU WILL ALWAYS RETURN.

The path is dusty and full of potholes. OH yeah here’s the turn off, preety isn’t it, won’t take long now and your patience will be rewarded, but wait, I must explain some ground rules; please don’t speak, don’t act like tourists and respect the locals.

You and me are walking through coastal forests, WHITE FOLK CALL IT LITTORAL, (SHOULD BE BLACK MAN’S FOREST), you may know the names of the plants and trees, you may know the animals, that’s a Black Cockatoo, all black with red under their wings, huge beaks. As we descend down the trail somebody wants a pee, all of us give reflection.

I ask you to leave the crappy real time, let our minds wander into your secret place. The journey is wonderful.

And what a place of reflection, so quiet, so tranquil, a movement in the bush!

You saw the dark people, you did didn’t you, I know you did, thanks NGARIGO BLOKES, you have given a small part of the DREAMTIME, the special time, maybe we will see a little more. We feel the presence and sense the ocean; the sound of small waves breaking close by, the opening to a small beach appears.

And then The Apparition, my God, it’s serene, it’s placid. All the rugged colors, reds and browns clash with the blue of the sea. Birds hover and wheel. I can sense your presence ARAGUNNU, NGARIGO, The Bogan Family.

We are in a place, my special place, and your special place, ARAGUNNU place.

IS IT LIKE YOUR SPECIAL PLACE?

The beach is golden sand, and the ancient rock headlands encompass and protect us. Have a look at the black man fishing to our right; he is standing on one leg aiming his spear at the water.

He is sealed in dreamtime. Down on the beach are some other black people, some women and blokes and some babies. They see us and seem to welcome our presence, but strangely there is a misty boundary that separates us. Just like the smoke from their fire.

See the black girl, she’s pointing at the water, I recon we’re being invited to enjoy the crystal clear sea. I know her, I was her age when I first discovered Moon Bay, and she comes here every year.

The water, OH, is that so good, so cold.

Please be quite and respectful, the black man turns and acknowledges our presence by a nod, don’t wave, have a special moment, you have been in the Dreamtime. What are you seeing, let the moment last. Long after we part, hold onto the moment, it will not harm you.

Moon bay exists for everybody, it lives, we have been there, one day we will return, you will never forget.

Did you let me see my Dreamtime, Aragunnu? If I have trespassed strike the memories from my mind, I was only young, but the memories linger.

MOON BAY, MY SPECIAL PLACE, (but there are others).

 

Bega Valley, Tathra. We took we plundered. And yet a simple bloke believes the visions of a Special Place mean many things to many people. He believes he saw ‘WHITE MAN’S DREAMTIME’. 

 

MINE, ANYBODY’S REALLY. MOON BAY LIVES.

 

MOON BAY, MY SPECIAL PLACE.

 

© john d farley 2008.

 

What’s that bloke on about this time, he must be very odd.

He hasn’t done anything important, and, does he have a god.

Well, let’s humor him a little ‘cause we got some time to spare.

Tells me he’s got a secret place, a place he wants to share.

 

The sentimental bloke, forgive him C.J. Dennis but that’s how he comes out.

You won’t know his name today and that’s no great loss, but he is your Aussie lout.

He wants you to accept some things, like; girls and boys are real and liven.

The Aussie bloke, he reckons, can be both, just the name you’re given.

 

I hear him say, “Prose and poetry, rhymes and stuff, I had to write it my way”.

“I tried to write my story but the truth got in the way”.

He wants to mention, Woolloomooloo, Palmer Street, Bundamar and Boonoke. Brunswick Heads and Avalon, but the brain has given no joy.

Like, how many words rhyme with Woolloomooloo, except, the paperboy?

 

And so for a short time draw a breath and dream about his special club.

Come and join this simple man we’ll meet you at the TATHRA PUB.

We’ll wander down to MOON BAY, to swim and close your eyes but see.

Nobody else will see the visions, only you and me.

 

Native people will be there, a young boy will point them out, look and listen, wave and smile, you will understand.

You see those black people are misty visions; we are standing on their land.

Can you see him waving, smiling, that’s him, but he’s just a kid and now I understand.

I think he’s troubled by constant visions of standing on sacred sand.

 

Don’t wave back and make a fuss just dwell and ponder what you see.

Ngarigo blokes and babies they still live here; close your eyes selected people, close your eyes and see.

You’ll never forget that black bloke, a spear with deadly aim, that fish he’ll show no quarter.

On one leg, he’ll be there forever more, just aiming at the water.

 

A Smoky haze has formed a mystic vista completely void of  foreground.

My chosen friends you understand, utter not a single sound.

For there is that little white boy, the look of wonder on his furrowed brow.

He reaches out and holds his mind’s eye memory, the treasure he worships now.

 

OH, he almost forgot, this place is not for us to touch, because you will be in real time.

Understand, you were there, MOON BAY IS IN DREAMTIME.

What’s that? White blokes can’t see the misty visions, well maybe I agree.

But he was young, yet he reckons, for a moment, those black blokes let him see.

 

Thank you ARAGUNNU, NGARIGO BLOKES, The Bogan People, South Coast NSW. Did you give me a Special Dreamtime Place?

 

© john d farley, 2008.

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