What is Love

What is Love

By

Kevin L Fairbrother

Love is a word expressed in so many ways

It’s meaning known to those who reach out

With-out fear or favor, sharing body and soul

Their body language enhancing the feeling

Love can be like a new day dawning

Or stormy and rough round the edges

Can be walking on the beach holding hands

Love is an experience, a journey with the end unknown

Love given freely with no strings attached

Is warm and tender and binds with strength

When given freely, love is returned

With fear and intimidation there is no love

Love can be giving your time to those who are hurt

The caring of the sick, the down-trodden and poor

Love and kindness to a child that’s lost

And flowers…. well they never hurt

Don’t be afraid to express your love

Say what you mean…do what you say

Give your love freely with touch, kind words

And trust and respect… your greatest gift

The results of love given freely can be seen everyday

In the faces of those who smile and have a spring in their step

The young and the old who smile and say G’day

For they extrude happiness to those who are sad

Love should not be about who has got what

For every- day things will come and go

The seeds of love will continue to grow

And burst forth like a sunny spring day

Open your eyes and look around for love abounds

It’s there for you to touch, experience and see

Take the time there is no need to rush

Take a deep breath… bend and smell the roses

The River of Tar

THE RIVER OF TAR

BY

Kevin L Fairbrother

The river of tar penetrates the Australian landscape

In all directions, in all terrains- the black ribbon

Weaves and wanders the coast, the inland and the great outback

Providing an artery to experience, explore and live the dream

Bringing forth the means to supply a diverse population

The life blood for those who live away from the big cities

The river of tar melds with the gravel and red dirt roads

Reaching into places where the great explorers have been

Rewarding those who adventure with a rich, diverse experience

Big cities, the coastal towns, farming communities, the outback

The river of tar makes it possible to grow the fruit and vegetables

To mine and extract the coal, iron ore and precious minerals

To harvest the rich and varied fish from the sea

Enables the many tourists to experience and see, Australia

 

The grey nomads live a life on the river of tar, living a life most can only dream

Experiencing an adventure of a life time, keeping many towns alive

So join the many on the river of tar, and live your dream

To experience what many see on the TV, you won’t be disappointed

A place we call Home

A place we call Home

By

Kevin L Fairbrother

The cold westerly winds rolls down the hills and across the plains

The frost on the ground as thick as a man’s hand

The air drawn in chills the body to the bone

This is the Central Plateau, the place we call home

Living here you need to be strong and resilient

Prepared to take what- ever Mother Nature brings

Wake to a snow blanket or biting winds and freezing rain

Or just maybe experience a hot sunny day

Life is hard for the high country people

Work to be done what-ever the weather

Wood to cut to keep the home fires burning

Feeding out or mustering or maybe a hunt

Keeps meat on the table and the dogs with a full gut

We choose to live and work in the high country

For the place is special, gives us a natural high

No place for the hustle and bustle of towns and cities

This place so peaceful, serine and quite

A visit to the high country an experience you will never forget

The extremes of weather, the rolling plains and the craggy mountains

The glistening waters of the streams, the rivers and lakes

The majestic Cider Gum, the snow gums and mountain heath

For the Central Plateau is like nowhere else on earth

For the dream time of old, the pristine wilderness

The night sky glistening and sparkling so very close

I love the high country, the place I call home

The Pain Of Drought

THE PAIN OF DROUGHT

By

Kevin L Fairbrother

Drought in Australia occurs on a regular basis through-out the country. Is a devastating  experience for the men and women who try to make a living off their land.

Most Australians never experience the pain associated with drought, except  at the super market when the price of fruit, vegetables and meat suddenly goes sky high due to the lack of supply.

During my travels last year western Queensland was in severe drought, Northern Territory wasn’t much better. Cattle were dying through lack of feed and water, farmers tried to find agistment in the south, where in some parts feed was plentiful

The cost of transporting cattle and sheep to places where there was feed became cost prohibitive and so many cattle and sheep were left to starve to death or were shot to end their suffering.

It is a sad tale of life on the land in the Australian outback and prompted me to put pen to paper one night when I was camped on the Barkly where the smell of dead and dying cattle drifted on the dry westerly wind.

As a farmer in Tasmania I feel I can handle most things but the experience  of the pain, the smell, the thousands of Kites circling the dead and dying stock,  to see the calves at their mothers feet to weak to stand, has left an indelible memory that I will never forget.

 

Barkley TablelandsIMGA0382IMGA0383Cattle on the BarkleyIMGA0385

 

 

The Pain of Drought

By

Kevin L Fairbrother

 

The road trains full of emancipated cattle roar by

Heading south to somewhere that is lush and green

For the big dry out west as tightened it’s grip

As the dry westerly winds lay the paddocks bare

The cows they roar and moan and stamp their feet

At the struggling calves that lay dying in the dirt and dust

The Kites on high circle the scene of death and dying

As the mothers walk away they dive bomb the carcasses

The cattle cluster round the dwindling water holes and shade

Their skeleton clearly visible held together by skin and bone

The heat so intense they endure .. together with the millions of flies

A scene so horrendous you just cant help the tears in your eyes

The lean and tall farmer looks over his dying herd of cattle

And wonders why mother nature can be so bloody cruel

I’ve nurtured these cows from birth, they are my pride and joy

And to watch this scene of my dying stock… Mate it hurts

To bloody late to shift this lot off,  he says out loud

I must end their suffering as quickly as I can

He heads to the Toyota to fetch his gun

Walks back to the herd with a tear and a heavy heart

With an anguished look and tears in his eye, he fires his gun

As the last one falls he looks on with pain etched on his brow

I best bury them deeply before the night falls

And heads to the homestead to fetch the machinery

As he drives he mumbles to himself the bloody politicians don’t care

And the city folk, well it’s outa sight outa mind with them

They can rest easy in their homes and comfortable beds

Whilst I toss and turn with mind racing of how to survive this devastation.

He returns to the macabre scene of blood, bodies and gore

The Kites in their thousands lift off from the bodies of the cattle

He digs a large hole and buries them deeply as night falls

And hopes that he doesn’t have to repeat the process with the stock that’s left.

The farmer heads home and is greeted by his wife at the door

He sobs in her arms and she says… I’m so sorry but it had to be done

We will look to the new day and hope the drought breaks

Knowing that Mother Nature will always have her way  

Time Flies By

Time Flies By

By Kevin L Fairbrother

As we grow older, time just seems to fly

We welcome the new day and in no time

Well, we are looking at the night sky

We forget to do what we had just done

We can’t do what we used to, but try

We have to watch our diet both day and night

A night sleep is always interrupted

As the medication keeps us awake

And the bladder, well mate- it just won’t wait

The past we wondered how we coped

Raising a family with a full time job

Now it’s a full time job just remembering

What we need and what someone tells us

We have no need of a fancy watch

For it would have no hope, of keeping up

So we spend our time living in the past

To stop the time from speeding up

Crowds of people, create too much noise

And driving in traffic brings us no joy

We look for somewhere quite to hide

Spend our time saying sorry, I did not hear

The younger generation doesn’t understand

For they, challenge with what would you, know

The past is so different from what is now

So back in your corner, old man

Growing old is a race to the grave

A race that we will never win

For medication just keeps us going

As we wait our time in a rocking chair

For time means nothing… It, just flies by

Name Blanks

As I grow older, I tend to remember less and less

Especially peoples names, which I always forget

Their faces I recall in my brain somewhere

But for the love of me, I can’t remember their name

………………………………………………

I have  come up with a remedy to fix this problem

and it seems to work , for every-one answers

Though some with a worried look on their brow

As I just call everyone Harry or Harriet

………………………………………………

But my name is not Harry or Harriet they say

And I say you tell me your name and I’ll forget

It’s so easy for me  to call you Harry or Harriet

As my brain and hearing is not the best

…………………………………………….

So don’t  be offended I mean no disrespect

It’s just my way of putting a name to a face

For sticks and stones will break your bones

But names like Harry or Harriet will  not hurt you.

 

Composed by way2gokev     9/11/2014

A few weeks back at a camp at Reeves beach I met up with fellow campers Rob and Lorraine and Rob just happened to be a bit of a poet like me.

Anyway he must have got sick of me calling him Harry for before he left he wrote me a poem, I love it.

OLD MATE

by Robert Bradfield alias Harry

I’ve travelled round Australia

Seen lot’s of different places

I’ve met a lot of people

With different names and faces

……….

But when we camped at Reeves Beach

At a place called 90 mile

There we met a fella

From down the Apple Isle

……..

He pulls a great big caravan

and takes it nice and slow

He tows it with a Nissan

I said that’s the “WAY2GO”

……

He came across as a happy bloke

Whose vibes just seemed to carry

No matter what your name was

He just called you Harry

……

When we left we wished him the best

and you may not think this true

I’d forgotten what his name was

So I just called him Blue!

 

In Australia a lot of people especially men call their friends not by their proper names. Popular names like Mate, Cobber, Bloke, Blue and many others, now there is another to add to the many “HARRY”