mopchoppers???
On 08/11/2017 22:13, Bill Wootton wrote:
> version
>
> 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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