We are a close knit, friendly group of poetry fans - writers, reciters, readers and listeners. Young(ish), old, professional and amateur.
'Bush Poetry' has regular meter and rhyme (as opposed to free verse) and had its origins in the bush but nowadays covers all sorts of subjects (though usually the Australian way of life). It can be about the past, the present or the future and can be serious, hilarious, whimsical, passionate, political, reflective, descriptive and anywhere in between.
It can make you laugh, make you cry or make you think. It can touch your very soul with its poignant stories or it can reduce you to tears of laughter or simply give you a giggle at a quirky anecdote. It can be a powerful tool to put a point across or it can simply be a joy to listen to.
For more details go to our
WHAT'S HAPPENING PAGE
Club Meetings
Held on the 2nd Tuesday of the month
7pm - 10pm
at the Miners Museum
James Street, Teralba
Co-Sponsors of the Gulgong Henry Lawson Festival June Long Weekend
Competition and performances held at various locations - e.g. Newcastle, Morisset, Scone, Krambach, some members compete Australia wide.
Come along and join us.........perform a poem or two or just sit and be entertained by an evening of great poems and yarns from our members
We're All Australians Now
Australia takes her pen in hand,
To write a line to you,
To let you fellows understand,
How proud we are of you.
From shearing shed and cattle run,
From Broome to Hobsons Bay,
Each native-born Australian son,
Stands straighter up today.
The man who used to "hump his drum",
On far-out Queensland runs,
Is fighting side by side with some
Tasmanian farmer's sons.
The fisher-boys dropped sail and oar
To grimly stand the test,
Along that storm-swept Turkish shore,
With miners from the west.
The old state jealousies of yore
Are dead as Pharaoh's sow,
We're not State children any more
We're all Australians now!
Our six-starred flag that used to fly,
Half-shyly to the breeze,
Unknown where older nations ply
Their trade on foreign seas,
Flies out to meet the morning blue
With Vict'ry at the prow;
For that's the flag the Sydney flew,
The wide seas know it now!
The mettle that a race can show
Is proved with shot and steel,
And now we know what nations know
And feel what nations feel.
The honoured graves beneath the crest
Of Gaba Tepe hill,
May hold our bravest and our best,
But we have brave men still.
With all our petty quarrels done,
Dissensions overthrown,
We have, through what you boys have done,
A history of our own.
Our old world diff'rences are dead,
Like weeds beneath the plough,
For English, Scotch, and Irish-bred,
They're all Australians now!
So now we'll toast the Third Brigade,
That led Australia's van,
For never shall their glory fade
In minds Australian.
Fight on, fight on, unflinchingly,
Till right and justice reign.
Fight on, fight on, till Victory
Shall send you home again.
And with Australia's flag shall fly
A spray of wattle bough,
To symbolise our unity,
We're all Australians now.
(AB "Banjo" Paterson)
