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Plays & Poems
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Australians All               * Available 2009-2010 *

The Rovers
From somewhere in the wherever world
of towers and cathedral spires
and soaring hymns and flags unfurled
and megaliths round ancient fires,

from farms and towns on roads to nowhere,
the somewhere else of aboriginals
who knew no worlds that they would dare
beyond their brief and fearful boundaries,

rovers came to their stranger lands
with plenteous stores and bullock drays
and masterful compass in their hands,
surveyor’s tools to plot their ways.

They found no ancient monuments,
no sounds beyond the corroborees,
no walls where rival rule was spent,
no ancient realms of aborigines.

Upon their reach where time stood still
in semi-deserts cruel and harsh
they brought their world of iron will
for deserts to bloom with their march.

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Charles, the Boomerang Champion
The ghosts of old corroborees would have approved
The lithe tread walking as no white man walked
two boomerangs within his supple hand,
The sharp appraisal of the land’s low talk.

Watch him hear the whisper of the wind
judge the sloping curve his swing must curl
like captain sensing which sail to unfurl
which twist of fickle elements to find.

When his wheeling boomerangs are hurled
he reads the riddles of the universe,
the price of life in his once deadly world
for error meant a man was hunger-cursed.

Dynamics of his earth-responsive life
were skills more necessary than any wealth
where wars with man and beast were ever rife
and men could only thrive who lived by stealth.

He bears in hands this riddle of our history
and enigma of Tutankhamen’s tomb,
this clue to some strange teasing mystery

this truth of flight before we’d ever flown.

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