A selection of poems from my website www.users.tpg.com.au/thegrey

ROBBY

I was feeling down, despondent, though I could not figure why.
Hell… perhaps it was the weather and the fact that things were dry.
It’s a soul-sapping experience when blue skies will not cease,
bringing melancholy moments, when one’s soul cannot find peace.

Then my mood was interrupted by an e-mail coming through
and I glanced down at my laptop: it was from a mate I knew.
Howard was a fellow poet whom I’d met last year in May,
who would often send me stories that someone had sent his way.

As I read the text before me I soon came to realize,
there were folk who faced much crueller tests and tears welled in my eyes.
“My full name is Mildred Hondorf and for thirty years or more
I have taught piano lessons to young children by the score.

“Though I’ve taught a lot of students who have shown ability,
there were sadly some among them who were challenged musically.
Of that number was young Robby and he had a single Mum
and the lad was now eleven … much too old I thought to come.

‘“But it’s always been my mother’s dream to hear me play,’ he said,
and those haunting words still linger to this day within my head.
Robby had no tone or rhythm and this fact he could not hide.
He just lacked inborn ability, but still the lad he tried.

“He learnt elementary pieces and would dutifully review
all the scales I put before him, but deep down inside I knew
that the poor child showed no promise and would never learn to play,
but each week his words would echo, ‘Mum will hear me play some day.’

“Robby’s mother always smiled and waved, though did so from her car
and I’d never met her personally in any way so far.
Then one day Rob never came again, I guessed he’d just moved on,
though I must admit I felt at ease now that the lad was gone.

“He was not a good advertisement for what I was about
and then several weeks on down the track I sent some flyers out,
for I had in mind an evening, a recital, on a night
where the parents, friends and relatives could see them in full flight.

“It seems Robby too received one and he asked if he could try,
but I told him it’s impossible, he did not qualify.
You have not attended lessons, so it really wasn’t fair.
‘But my mum was sick!’ Young Rob explained, ‘she couldn’t drive me there.’

‘“I’ve been practising Miss Hondorf and Mum wants to hear me play.’
I don’t know how he persuaded me, but Robby got his way.
He’d perform before my closer, just in case his effort died,
and that way I’d salvage self-esteem or bluntly … save my pride.

“Well the evening had gone splendidly and Rob was paged on next,
but the sight of his appearance … well, it really left me vexed.
The lad’s clothes were un-ironed, wrinkled and his hair was quite a mess
and it looked like an eggbeater had been through it I confess.

“But he sat at his piano and announced out very loud,
he would play Mozart’s Concerto in C Major for the crowd.
His small fingers danced so nimbly on the ivories that’s for sure
and I know that Mozart would have been amazed at what he saw.

“Robby ended his performance in a grand crescendo style
and the crowd just stood applauding while I had the biggest smile.
I just hugged the lad and asked him, ‘How’d you do it? Don’t be shy.’
And he spoke into the microphone and gave his proud reply.

“’Well my Mum has been real sick of late, she’d cancer in her chest,
and she passed away this morning Miss. I had to play my best.
Mum was born quite deaf you see, but prayed with all her might,
that one day she’d hear me playing and I know she heard tonight.’”

©Australian Bush Poet and Balladeer
Merv Webster

CARAVANNING MAYHEM

We’re as Aussie as a barbecue, fair dinkum as they come,
and we’re crazy ‘bout our footy and we love a Bundy rum.
We’re as true blue as Don Bradman and I’ll wager both our pays
we’re as ridgy didge as vegemite. No! Mightymight leastways.

We get green and gold malaria at least twice every week
and the truth be known ... we’ve got it now ... right as we flamin’ speak.
When we see our nation’s coat of arms we feel a sense of pride.
Well ... that was until we went outback. These days we cringe and hide.

We had bought a brand new four-wheel drive and caravan to boot
and we thought we’d tour Australia. It was bound to be a hoot.
Well we drove through Bourke and Charleville and that old mate is where ...
both those critters on our coat of arms ... attacked us then and there.

We had crossed the bridge at Yo Yo Creek when right there in full view
was a whopping great big kangaroo and old man emu too.
Well they raised our Aussie pride on high ... that’s till they split those chaps
and the emu hit the windscreen and was dumped upon our laps.

It was panic that now overtook this oversized galah,
as he started kicking madly to escape from out the car.
His big beak was pecking firmly at the middle of my groin,
while my manhood stood protected by a pocket full of coin.

The sharp claws were madly thrashing and my wife was not amused
‘cause he lashed out at her torso that was bloodied, cut and bruised
and whatever emus tend to eat and forage through the day
was now spread throughout the vehicle as we fought that deadly fray.

The old emu found the window and with freedom now in sight
that bird shredded the upholstery as he kicked with all his might.
We were covered with its feathers and in one almighty push
he then squeezed on out the window and he headed for the bush.

We were bloodied, bruised and beaten and bewildered and amazed
as we scrambled from our four-wheel drive and still a little dazed.
We were now in need of first aid so we opened our van door
and we climbed inside to find the kit, both bleeding on the floor.

In the meantime unbeknown to us the big ‘roo in despair,
he had clipped our brand new four-wheel drive and hurtled through the air.
When the flying frame of that large beast, which stood near six feet tall,
it had landed in the caravan, through awning, glass and all.

On the table there before us stood this stunned ‘roo, not quite dead,
when the scream from my old lady triggered something in its head.
In an instant he had grabbed me and had lunged out with his feet
and he shredded my new Levis and then made a quick retreat.

He had landed on the double bed and turned to strike again,
but instead his big tail hit me with excruciating pain.
He then latched onto the missus and they grabbed each other’s necks,
then they jumped around together till they both looked flamin’ wrecks.

In that instant I then managed to make for the van’s front door
while the missus she kept screaming, “I can’t take this any more!”
Now the ‘roo he sensed his freedom and both he and my poor wife
spilled outside onto the roadway, where it bolted for its life.

For the moment we just stood there both bewildered by our plight
and I must confess our torsos they were not a pretty sight.
We then sat and drank the rum we had, we needed a stiff drink.
And we headed back for Melbourne where we both sought out a shrink.

We have sold the four wheel-drive and van to pay our flamin’ quack
and we watch the good old tele when we want to go outback.
We have both now turned religious and we daily read the psalms,
but we cringe when we’re confronted by our nation’s coat of arms.

©Australian Bush Poet and Balladeer
Merv Webster