Writings from the Antipodes

The Hippo and the Bird.

The hippo’s delight was far out of sight,
As she lay in an innocent pose.
Delighted by water
This pachyderm’s daughter,
Displayed just the end of her nose.

A bird of thin kind stood upon her behind,
And rid her of various nits.
He knew that his host
Harboured the most,
Down near the bit where she sits.

After a while, of dining in style,
He perceived that his legs had got shorter
For the wet stuff had rose
Beyond his long toes,
And his beakful of nits full of water.

He looked at the sky, with one beady eye,
And considered it likely that rain
Was the cause of the wet
That had caused him to get
His feathers to go down the drain.

The brain of a bird, as often is heard,
Is not known for it’s skill in debate,
Sometimes I think
As it stops for a drink,
How on earth can it find it’s own mate!

The bird, now rinsed, is completely convinced
That the water is rapidly filling.
It thinks of a plan,
As only birds can,
To save it from this kind of chilling.

It will call on it’s host, to summons it’s most
To swim upwards as fast as it’s able.
Then once at the top,
Off he quickly would hop
And find himself something more stable.

This poor, wretched bird, if only he’d heard
That the nits and the hippo that’s got ‘em,
When the sunshine is hot,
As likely as not,
They’ll sink, for hours, to the bottom.

©Ciderman

1 Like

Love it - more please!

Thank you ma’am! :slight_smile:

Fairies

There are fairies at the bottom of our garden,
Living in the septic tank.
I leave a possum trap set up
Beneath the stony bank.

I hear their murmers in the night,
It’s such an awful sound,
They leave their dirty dishes out,
And litter scattered round.

They break their bottles in the grass
And make an awful mess,
I’ve put out litter bins and such,
They just don’t see, I guess!

Brilliant !

And finally, before I go to bed. A sad one.

The Dog
You may not see me often as I ride around my sheep
The hills are hard and savage and the bloody things are steep.
I find a seep, a boggy patch and tell my horse to go
But he is being stubborn - in his minds eye he says ,”No!”
We struggle some, then I get off and lead him to the place
One step and I am knee deep , then flat upon my face.

I look up to his patient face as he stands up and dry,
While I gaze wet and miserable into a leaden sky.
Back aboard my saddle I let him show me where
The best place to approach and then to get us there.
My silent heading Dog looks up as if to ask the Lord
Where did he get this useless boss who cannot find a ford.

We reach the ridge and Dog has seen a ewe that’s having trouble
He looks at me and sighs and rounds her up quick double,
He eyes her still and I’m supposed to creep up to her with skill,
Assist the lamb to join the world and help him get his fill.
The Dog is thirteen years of age, I lack his expertise
To do the job as well as he, as I fumble on my knees.

For three years Dog encouraged me, and tried to help me learn
But he was aging fast, you see and I had years to burn.
At last his sight was giving in, but agile still and keen
He’d run into a tree or fence his dim eyes hadn’t seen.
I couldn’t leave him left behind when other dogs I ran
He loved the run, the company, the knowledge that he can.

I shot that Dog one evening. Under the kanuka tree
Gave him fillet steak , his favourite , set his spirit free.
I stroked his old grey head before he died under my hand,
Owed him that, I did , a friend , fellow worker on the land.
The tears rolled down my cheeks as I sighted between his eyes
The shot thundered, he twitched a bit, became silent bye and bye

I buried him with care and thought, beneath that tree so old
Wrapped in a blanket bright to keep him from the cold.
I made a token to mark the ground that was his place of rest
I knew without a doubt that he was one of nature’s best.
I sat for hours beside his grave , that starry moonlit night
And watched a meteor flash past and thought, “an omen!” right!

OH, I LOVE THEM.

We are honoured to have you on the forum.
You are rather handsome too.
What a bonus. x

That made me cry - but it is an excellent poem. Thank you.

Excellent Ciderman. I’m just hoping the dog poem isn’t a true story. :frowning:

Oh that was so sad … but so beautifully written.

he was sixteen then fgs!!

So what I have seen recent pics
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.:lol:
His wife. X

I think I was 24. Now I have to eat more, get fatter to lose the wrinkles, and yes, it’s a true story. :frowning:
It’s not my fault that I cannot compete with Gumbuds look of Adonis.

Excellent poems, Ciderman :slight_smile:

that’s alright little cousin from the minor antipodeas we’ll take care of ya like we did when ya was wiv the ANZACS!

From my 3 years farming. (No, I don’t smoke since 1970)

Harrowing.

I’ve been round this paddock 43 times,
All that’s showing’s me nose and me eyes,
The rest of me ‘s covered in foot thick clothes
Despite all this, me hands are froze!

Me ears are pounding from the tractor’s chug,
And the harrows racket is right in me lug.
There’s a south wind blowing an’ me smokes gone out,
Bang on a foot brake and we turn about.

Big flat paddock with a drain in the middle.
Stop and get off- have another piddle
Light a new smoke and away we go,
Banging an’ a-crashing like an old loco.

Left turn comin’ an another an another,
Not a tree, not a hill, not a damn bit of cover.
From the south comes the wind with the icy clout.
(Bugger it and blast it- me smokes gone out!)

ya telling the brits about farming?? :smiley:

Love this thread. xxxx
I need help mind if I am to make my own wine.

I used to run Hobby winemaking night classes at the local High School (not for students- for adults). I found that out of a class of about 30 25 had made wine already and 5 had there own stills. They had made wine out of everything from grass clippings to 2nd hand tea leaves. I suggested it might be a good idea to bring a sample of their wine for next weeks class. The class was held in a laboratory room because it had sinks and taps etc. We all ran over time before staggering out of the double doors, although some missed the hole and hit the door frame.

Ooh, I am starting a thread tomorrow. It should be fun.
It will be in the correct section, and I can’t wait for the posts.:smiley:

More real life!

The One Legged Man

My then wife was busy pursuing my then boss,(fruitlessly as it happens), and I was pursuaded to take the two kids on holiday. I took them to the South Island. Over on the interisland ferry and we had a fun time driving and stopping down the rugged West Coast. A place of gold prospecting, old lawlessness but now extraordinary hospitality. Stopping at the Punakaiki rocks with their strange formations laid down 30 million years ago and since eroded by the sea into fascinating patterns and blowholes.
We camped by the roadside, we stayed in cabins and in the car we had camp fires by the beach and cooked fish we had caught. We visited Shantytown, which was once a miners town all, once, of course, under canvas. We explored the Fox Glacier and the Franz Joseph glacier and carefully watched as they crept down their course to the sea at about an inch a minute!
We had a really fun time! The ferry trip back was supurb! The Marlborough Sounds were idyllic and the reputation of Cook Strait was maligned by a smooth crossing. Off the boat we headed for Wanganui on the West coast of the North Island, stayed in cabins and prepared for the drive home the next day. Towards the end of a winding gravel road the kids got bored. I invented a game where I said “The first one to see a…” Wins! We spotted cows with a brown spot on it’s back. Pukekos on the road… at least 10 sheep in a paddock with at least 10 trees in it…A horse that wasn’t brown all over…a house with a red roof…and they didn’t seem to tire of it. But I did! Still with an hour to go I said, “The first one to see a one legged man riding a bicycle!”
In less than two minutes! There he was! One leg pumping frantically. I nearly ran him over with shock! “How did you know dad?”
Ah! The faith of children.