Poems
Mallacoota
To the shores of Mallacoota,
Ted Harrington
Feeling heartsick and depressed,
From the tumult of the city,
I arrived a stranger guest,
Kindly hearts were there to greet me,
Friendly voices welcomed me;
In the house above the inlet,
Looking o’er the sunlit sea.
On the shores of Mallacoota,
Where the billows shoreward roll,
I have found a balm and solace,
For my overburdened soul,
For the glory of the morning,
And the splendor of the eve,
Has enchanted me and chained me,
And has made me loath to leave.
Mallacoota in the limelight,
Has a glory all its own;
When the mighty sea is muttering,
In a muffled undertone.
And when the rain is on the waters,
And the heavens give no light,
Then the light of mighty Gabo,
Like a great sword cleaves the night.
I have always loved the forest,
I have always loved the sea;
Now here in Mallacoota
Both my loves seem close to me.
I can feel their mighty pulses,
I can hear their great hearts beat,
With the forest close behind me
And the ocean at my feet.
We are all a part of nature,
Part of what we feel and see;
And I feel that Mallacoota,
Has become a part of me.
And wherever I may wander
Or whatever beacons burn,
To the shores of Mallacoota
I will once again return.
thetrustedtraveller.com
The Bad Old Days
I often choose to reminisce,
Of times away back when.
Old Henry Lawson noted down,
Some findings with a pen.
Life was so much simpler then’
He went where he was took.
He scribbled notes along the way,
In hopes to write a Book.
Henry landed down at “Coota”
In the lap of his mate Brady.
A writer and a shooter,
At a spot so green and shadey.
Days removed from traffic,
From crowds and crush on trams.
They walked the coast for miles and miles,
Their pack with bread and jam.
They gazed upon the traders,
Sailing cutters there and Ketches.
Making notes with pen and paper,
And even drawing sketches.
What salad days they did enjoy,
Those two good mates of old.
With fish and fowl to help them through,
Those Days of solid Gold.
Robert Whiter, well-known poet from Eden, NSW RBW…..1/10/2025
Another one by Robert
The Bad Old Days.
I often choose to reminisce, of times, away back when.
Old Henry Lawson noted down some findings with a pen.
Life was so much simpler then, he went where he was TOOK.
He scribbled notes along the way, in hopes to write a Book.
Henry landed down at ‘Coota in the lap of his mate Brady,
A writer and a shooter at a spot so green and shady.
Days removed from traffic & crowded crush on trams,
They walked the coast for miles and miles with packs of bread N jam.
They gazed upon the traders, sailing Cutters there and Ketches,
Making notes with pen and paper, and EVEN drawing sketches.
What salad days they did enjoy, those two good mates of old
With fish and fowl to help them through, those days of SOLID GOLD.
RBW 4/12/2025.