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On Thu, 9 Nov 2017 at 9:12 AM, Bill Wootton <[log in to unmask]>
wrote:
> Thanks Patrick, Doug.
> Yes, mea culpa sentence loader. And this versin is trimmed!
>
> Bill
>
> On Thu, 9 Nov 2017 at 2:05 AM, Douglas Barbour <[log in to unmask]>
> wrote:
>
>> There’s a lot there that’s either incredibly local or national idiom,
>> Bill, a gathering of terms as well as landmarks.
>>
>> Is it a bit too sentence-loaded; or maybe should just be a prose poem?
>>
>> Doug
>> > On Nov 8, 2017, at 2:11 AM, Patrick McManus <
>> [log in to unmask]> wrote:
>> >
>> > thanks Bill sounds a lovely place -nice last line
>> >
>> > cheers P
>> >
>> >
>> > On 07/11/2017 20:37, Bill Wootton wrote:
>> >> A poem reworked for a future local poetry slam. Title is the theme.
>> Feel
>> >> free to offer suggestions.
>> >>
>> >> Daylesford & Hepburn Springs - made in heaven
>> >>
>> >>
>> >>
>> >> A bristling block of almost city,
>> >>
>> >> either end of Daylesford eases off to country.
>> >>
>> >> In between comes clobber, cafes, art, books,
>> >>
>> >> a white-tiled butcher's, glazed pottery, mopchoppers,
>> >>
>> >> furniture chic, two-storey bank buildings
>> >>
>> >> and the rump Rex theatre, up an arcade.
>> >>
>> >>
>> >>
>> >> Two fountains splash and glisten,
>> >>
>> >> one down the post office end, the other
>> >>
>> >> near the mower shop, viewable
>> >>
>> >> from a corner table at the Taj.
>> >>
>> >> And always, Wombat Hill looms over
>> >>
>> >> The Convent's grey balconies.
>> >>
>> >>
>> >>
>> >> Brick-red kissmequicks, agapanthus spears
>> >>
>> >> and squadrons of bluebells burst from the soil,
>> >>
>> >> Swiss-Italian planted pines, elms, red oaks and
>> >>
>> >> copper beeches share gullies and steep ridges
>> >>
>> >> with flaky mannagums, candlebarks and cedars
>> >>
>> >> all the way to gentle Hepburn Springs.
>> >>
>> >>
>> >>
>> >> Chimneys ease woodsmoke at dusk,
>> >>
>> >> horse poo sells at the side of the road.
>> >>
>> >> Trains trickle to Bullarto just once a week,
>> >>
>> >> ivy advances on fading guest houses
>> >>
>> >> but pubs survive and even kick on.
>> >>
>> >> Score rissoles at Merv's Savoia, singalong
>> >>
>> >> at the Old Hep or gush to Simon at The Goat.
>> >>
>> >>
>> >>
>> >> Cheer parades at Hep's Swiss-Italian Festa,
>> >>
>> >> and Daylesford's Chillout and New Year's Eve,
>> >>
>> >> where locals take to the streets with gusto;
>> >>
>> >> stilted Sprung Circus girls, mounted knights
>> >>
>> >> in armour, brass bands, lavish LGBTQI's,
>> >>
>> >> share bitumen with tractors and fire engines.
>> >>
>> >>
>> >>
>> >> Black ice slicks up roads in winter,
>> >>
>> >> the cold seems to go on forever,
>> >>
>> >> no takers still for the vacant Palais,
>> >>
>> >> the General store sells out of sourdough bread.
>> >>
>> >> But rainbow flags flicker in the breeze.
>> >>
>> >> Can towns be made in heaven?
>> >>
>> >>
>> >>
>> >> bw
>>
>> Douglas Barbour
>> [log in to unmask]
>> https://eclecticruckus.wordpress.com/
>>
>> Recent publications: (With Sheila E Murphy) Continuations & Continuations
>> 2 (UofAPress).
>> Recording Dates (Rubicon Press).
>> Listen. If (UofAPress):
>>
>> There was the usual amount of corruption, intimidation, and rioting.
>>
>> Sir Charles Petrie
>>
>
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