Old Friends

We owe them much,
our friends from times past,
yet they fade now
from the consciousness of most.

We should, when we stop to reflect,
recall how they threw themselves
without complaint
against the collar of hard times,
never tiring, calmly facing the unknown.

We should remember
long treks through landscapes
harsh and unforgiving,
the laden coaches and wagons,
heavy ploughs and cruel winches,
droving camps, wild bush cattle musters,
the terror of the battlefield
and certain horrific fate.

Remember too
the courage, strength,
patient companionship,
dignity and innate gentleness
of these old friends.


there is something about the outside of a horse
that is good for the inside of a man
—attributed to Winston Churchill

 

J Bandidt  ©

August 2015

Balloons

When the partying’s done
set free the balloons. Hope for a breezy day,
feel the tug, all colour singing, stretching light.
The relentless pull and the sliding away.
Let them go and take the summer with them.

The not-knowing, the hoping
it might be possible to soar above grey,
uncontained, uncontrolled,
lose colour, lose the self.

At some point the shrinking must begin.
What if the spiral is downwards
and what it holds has no substance at all?
How would you know
when you’d reached the end?

Lyn Browne
24 August 2015