Recent Poems

A few poems have jumped out at me recently. The first, an attempt to put a positive focus on life…

Digging Away

My writing makes me happy
And singing makes me glad
That I am a type of chappie
Avoiding things that make him sad. 

For seeking out the joy in life
Should be a constant theme
Side stepping all manner of strife
Trying to make things gleam. 

Some of the pain we can’t avoid
Like if our loved ones suffer 
Or when whole cities are destroyed 
There is no real buffer. 

But aspiring to see the light 
Is the answer, surely 
We can’t always cast out the night
Or our thoughts cleanse truly. 

We can, however, dig away
To see if we can find
A sparkling place in which to stay
Somewhere that most are kind. 

Down this path I prefer to go
To explore where I might get
Attempting to joyfulness sow
Leaving behind regret. 

Brian Matthews 7-6-26

The next one was written by a friend, Bernie Golab, about a railroad tragedy many years ago in the mid north of South Australia, and I think it is well worth sharing. Thanks Bernie…

THE WALLOWAY INCIDENT.            
  ( © B.M Golab)

A story 's told 'round Walloway
Of that rainy, dark Spring night
When fated lives were caused to meet
Upon that darkened site

"Twas nineteen one, the old Ghan Line
 Just North of Orroroo
The night was cold, the rails were wet
Dark clouds were building too

Somewhere out there in the night
Two trains were hauling freight
Southbound, cattle, from Kidman's lot
Northbound, with copper's weight

The cattle train, on downhill grade
Was meant to stop and wait
At Walloway loop and let to pass
The heavy Northbound freight

Pennington and Eager found
Their train not to report
To braking on wet downhill rails
They missed the siding's points

And the squeal of brakes that split the night
Was the final clarion call
For those engine-men who bravely fought
To halt that dreadful maul

Haines and Brody, heading North.
Had slowed to scan for lights
Guessing they were nearby to
That Walloway passing site

The two trains met, three hundred yards
South of the Walloway
Over a bridge that crossed a creek
That ran beside the road

And through this mess, One showed his best
McCaulay was his name
To risk his life and limb to save
Jack Brody from his train

Pennington and Haines were hurt
Sam Eager met his end
Found with hands still on the brake
Still trying to save his friends

And the squeal of brakes, that split the night
Was the final clarion call
For those engine-men who bravely fought
To halt this dreadful maul

Brodie died a short time on
His leg they couldn't save
He left a new bride, sad at home
A' weeping at his grave

And now at night, in cold and wet
Upon that lonely plain
You may still yet hear, the squeal and clash
Of two colliding trains

A lonely plaque does now denote
The place of this affray
Do take the time, to stop and think
The crash at Walloway

And the squeal of  brakes that split the night
And that final clarion call
And those engine-men who bravely fought
To halt that dreadful maul.

The next poem was inspired by that vessel of hate, Pauline Hanson, who gathers support from the disaffected in the Australian community and the obvious and hidden racists by bemoaning the loss of something we never had in this country, a monoculture…

The Monoculture 

To be most comfortable 
Within your own culture 
It is for many understandable
To stand at this juncture. 

But to malign the ways of others
To damn that which is different 
Denying that we are all brothers 
And sisters regardless of our pigment. 

That is a pathway to hate
Creating unnecessary division 
As such features they rate
And variety attracts derision. 

“I’m not racist” they might say
And yet the intolerance is clear
Denying others their day
As communities apart they shear. 

Comfortable only in their bubble 
Eschewing the other
Claiming it’s them causing trouble
Their own culture, of course, never a bother. 

Brian Matthews 23-6-26

The next was an attempt to unravel my feelings about the near future as we plan for the next stage in life…

Unpredictability 

A busy time now
Getting ready for another trip
Making sure all is in order
It’s so hard being a hoarder. 

And soon off again we’ll go
To far off places and back again
So we can pack for our sabbatical 
Taking all that is practical. 

Wondering how this will turn out
A pleasant interlude maybe 
Or a long hard grind?
This we shall soon find. 

But some of the best things in life
Are the many surprises 
Your mind planning carefully 
Events scattering these ruthlessly. 

So what will happen is always unknown
No surety can we determine 
All the plans will morph and change
As our lives we rearrange. 

Brian Matthews  15-7-26

And then, my darling stepdaughter lost her father and had to set off overseas to organise his funeral and settle his affairs…

Sorting Out

Someone passing leaves a gap
Particularly for those closest 
But we know we all have to go
When and where not usually a choice. 

The tangle we leave behind 
Can vary in size and complexity 
Loved ones often struggling 
To tidy a life’s detritus. 

The grief is always there
Intensity also a variable matter
But even when a flawed relationship 
Feelings can be overwhelming. 

Soldiering on the only way
Charging ahead with the sorting out 
Dealing with the ups and downs
Refusing to cave in to despair. 

No matter the obstacles 
An end will come
All will be finalised 
Breathing will become easier. 

Brian Matthews 18-7-26

And, finally for this post, today is the 15th birthday of the elder of our two dogs, Riley, a Havanese cross who absolutely adores his Mum, and tolerates me. He is a lovely little fellow…