 Poetry: June 24, 2015 Issue [#7066] |
  Poetry
This week: Andrew Barton Paterson Edited by: Stormy Lady  
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This is poetry from the minds and the hearts of poets on Writing.Com. The poems I am going to be exposing throughout this newsletter are ones that I have found to be, very visual, mood setting and uniquely done. Stormy Lady
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Sunrise on the Coast
by Andrew Barton Paterson
Grey dawn on the sand-hills -- the night wind has drifted
All night from the rollers a scent of the sea;
With the dawn the grey fog his battalions has lifted,
At the call of the morning they scatter and flee.
Like mariners calling the roll of their number
The sea-fowl put out to the infinite deep.
And far overhead -- sinking softly to slumber --
Worn out by their watching the stars fall asleep.
To eastward, where rests the broad dome of the skies on
The sea-line, stirs softly the curtain of night;
And far from behind the enshrouded horizon
Comes the voice of a God saying "Let there be light."
And lo, there is light! Evanescent and tender,
It glows ruby-red where 'twas now ashen-grey;
And purple and scarlet and gold in its splendour --
Behold, 'tis that marvel, the birth of a day!
Waltzing Matilda
by Andrew Barton Paterson
Oh! there once was a swagman camped in the Billabong,
Under the shade of a Coolabah tree;
And he sang as he looked at his old billy boiling,
"Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me."
Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda, my darling,
Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?
Waltzing Matilda and leading a water-bag—
Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?
Down came a jumbuck to drink at the water-hole,
Up jumped the swagman and grabbed him in glee;
And he sang as he put him away in his tucker-bag,
"You'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me!"
Down came the Squatter a-riding his thorough-bred;
Down came Policemen—one, two, and three.
"Whose is the jumbuck you've got in the tucker-bag?
You'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me."
But the swagman, he up and he jumped in the water-hole,
Drowning himself by the Coolabah tree;
And his ghost may be heard as it sings in the Billabong,
"Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?"
On February 17, 1864 Andrew Paterson and his wife Rose welcomed son Andrew Barton Paterson into their lives. Paterson was the first of seven children born to Andrew and Rose. The couple was living in New South Wales at the time of Paterson’s birth. They moved to Illalong when he was seven. Paterson was taught at home by a governess until he attended Sydney Grammar School. After failing the entrance exams for college Paterson went to work for Spain and Salway. He became a solicitor in 1886. Around 1889 he entered into a partnership John William Street.
During this time Paterson started writing and publishing his work under the pen name ‘The Banjo’. His early work was published in the Bulletin and the Sydney Mail. In 1895 Paterson published his famous ballad ‘Waltzing Matilda” along with his first book, “The Man From Snowy River and Other Verses.” The publication sold out its first edition within a week and went through several more editions over the next six months. The rapid sales of his book quickly made Paterson popularity grow.
In 1899 Paterson traveled to South Africa and China as a war correspondent for Sydney Morning Herald . His reporting captured the attention of the English Press and he was appointed correspondent for the international news agency, Reuters. Upon Paterson return to his firm he decided it was time to leave and follow his passion for writing. Paterson published another collection, "Rio Grande's Last Race, and Other Verses' in 1902. Patterson wrote twelve ballads from his war experiences, including 'Johnny Boer' and 'With French to Kimberley'. By 1903 he was appointed Editor of the Evening News, in Sydney. It was during this time that he married Alice Walker. The couple had two children Grace (1904) and Hugh (1906).
As World War I broke out, Paterson once again set out in hopes to be a correspondent for the war, but instead he ended up being an ambulance driver in France and was appointed to the 2nd Remount Unit. Paterson was quickly promoted to captain. He was wounded in 1916 and upon his recovery returned to his unit. He was eventually promoted to Major. While serving he wrote and published “Saltbush Bill, J.P., and Other Verses” and “Three Elephant Power, and Other Stories.”
After the war Paterson returned to Australia and he resumed journalism until he retired in 1930. He wrote seven volumes of poetry and prose including “The Collected Verse of A.B. Paterson” published in 1923. A children’s book “The Animals Noah Forgot,” published in 1933 and "The Shearer's Colt' in 1936. Andrew “Banjo” Paterson died on February 5, 1941 after a short battle with an illness.
Hard Luck
by Andrew Barton Paterson
I left the course, and by my side
There walked a ruined tout --
A hungry creature, evil-eyed,
Who poured this story out.
"You see," he said, "there came a swell
To Kensington today,
And, if I picked the winners well,
A crown at least he's pay.
"I picked three winners straight, I did;
I filled his purse with pelf,
And then he gave me half-a-quid
To back one for myself.
"A half-a-quid to me he cast --
I wanted it indeed;
So help me Bob, for two days past
I haven't had a feed.
"But still I thought my luck was in,
I couldn't go astray --
I put it all on Little Min,
And lost it straightaway.
"I haven't got a bite or bed,
I'm absolutely stuck;
So keep this lesson in your head:
Don't over-trust your luck!"
The folks went homeward, near and far,
The tout, oh! where is he?
Ask where the empty boilers are
Beside the Circular Quay.
Thank you all!
Stormy Lady
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The winner of "Stormy's poetry newsletter & contest" [ASR] is:
A Poem
If there’s another way to tell my tale
Oh let me hear and sit
Beside your lap to weep
At the freshness of morning dew
That crisply crunches underfoot
And treetop’s verdant glow
All masked in white and fractals
The lonely traveler trope is cold
And lifeless
Beaten dead and left
To sing its songs to no one in particular
Though I have waged this war
Since youth have fled
Averted eyes still searching
Muted tongue and seeking substance
So will you play the storyteller
Dear Sister / Dear Brother,
Oh, will you mouth the words I’ve not
the faintest heart to sing?
And will you read my headstone
when my song is sung?
Or cast me out as soon my day is done?
Honorable mention:
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These are the rules:
1) You must use the words I give in a poem or prose with no limits on length.
2) The words can be in any order and anywhere throughout the poem and can be any form of the word.
3) All entries must be posted in your portfolio and you must post the link in this forum, "Stormy's poetry newsletter & contest" [ASR] by July 17, 2015.
4) The winner will get 3000 gift points and the poem will be displayed in this section of the newsletter the next time it is my turn to post (July 24, 2015)
The words are: watch, imagination, wild, handkerchief, innocent, charmed, creature, dusk
 Good luck to all
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