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Thylazine: The Australian Journal of Arts, Ethics & Literature                                                                                                                               #11/thyla11k-dw AUSTRALIAN POETS SERIES 11 The Poetry of Duncan Williams Selected by Coral Hull [Above] Photo of Duncan Williams by Agfa-foto, 2004. I Paddy's River Falls I The Powers Of The Sea I Silverton I The Master Henry Lawson I The Sydney Bushfires 94 I Uncle Roy I Paddy's River Falls Some Australian bushland beauty, Has been captured through my eyes, To the south by Tumbarumba, Under Snowy mountain skies. Tall stringy-barks are standing, And the bush birds charming calls, Along a tranquil mountain valley, The peaceful Paddy's river falls. Seen the vastness of the outback, And the many stars at night, Rolled my swag on western rivers, To the glow of morning light Where the kangaroo's go bounding, In big mobs across the plains, When the outback land is greener, At the end of season rains. Thoughts are now here in the Snowy's, Relaxing closely by the falls, Listening to the rippling water, To the chirp of bush bird calls. My resting time at Paddy's river, Australia's unique bushland scene, The crystal waters of the Snowy, Where the hills rise high between. The Powers of the Sea As tsunami waves came crashing, To the homes above the shore, And family lives were broken, Like nothing seen before On that day of devastation, By the ocean's rising tide, Many people were left homeless, Well as many thousands died. The shock of what had happened, In the future, left to be, When nations come together, In 'the powers of the sea'. Silverton It was a thriving township, In the past I understand, The rugged Barrier Rangers, In that arid desert land. The western side of Silverton, Lies the Mundi Mundi plains, Wild flowers bloom so brightly, Just after desert rains. I travelled out from Dubbo, On a coach to Broken Hill, Miles of endless country, Yes I remember still. For I stayed a week at Astra, In the main street of the town, And I cycled on to Silverton, Just to take a look around. I reached the Euramerra creek, And the creek bed it was dry, The day was warm and pleasant, In the open outback sky. Then I cycled further onward, Through country hard and free, And the plains roll on forever, As far as you can see. Been the home of many movies, People come from everwhere, In the hotel room in Silverton, The bar stands neatly square. Yes for I became a member, But I had to pass the test, No, that I cannot tell you, It's the secret of the west. The Master Henry Lawson In the narrow streets of Gulgong, Just north of Mudgee town, Back in the eighteen hundreds, When the gold boom was around And the Lawson's built their cottage, At a place called Eurunderee, Boyhood home of Henry Lawson, The master of bush poetry. He touched our hearts with verses, And the people's poet he became, Wasn't until his life was over, That his achievement came to fame. His passion was for the underdogs, Early selectors on their camps, The down and out regarding Sweeney, And Cobb and Co's passing lamps. Henry Lawson wrote his legend, And there's nothing we can say, For Australia and it's people, In his bush style ballad way. He touched our hearts with verses, And the people's poet he became, Wasn't until his life was over, That his achievement came to fame. The Sydney Bushfires 94. Yes to the heroes of the fires, Who fought that raging blaze, Risked their lives for others, In a sweltering blinding haze. To the many supporting people, Who gave up their time to care, And helped those homeless victims, Which were left in such despair. To the state emergency service, Police and scores of volunteers, Worked endlessly around the clock, And they faced some tragic fears. For days put up with scorching winds, Until a change came in the weather, Evacuated folks from nursing homes, And placed in safety halls together. One hundred and eighty five houses, Were burnt down through the fires, It wiped out Royal National Park, And it caused nightmares to survivors. Well the clean up mess now is all over, Hope you restore your shattered dreams, Say thanks to all those great people, The helpers and the bush fire teams. Uncle Roy He lived with us at Tamworth, When I was just a boy, A real old-time war veteran, And we called him Uncle Roy. He slept out on the verandah, His smokes and Resches beer, He kept mainly to himself, And he never showed much fear. He spent some time in Sydney, And Havelock Street Mayfield, Loved to play a game of cards, Could shuffle or could deal. A joke we had with Uncle Roy, With a dose of Epsom Salts, And when the salts had taken course, Roy jumps up and bolts. Now Uncle Roy is now at rest, And he smoked up to the last, The cancer took old uncles life, Was a gentleman of the past. Yes, often times i think of him, And he was liked by everyone, If Uncle Roy was still around, There would be some fun. About the Poet Duncan Williams Duncan Williams was born in Tamworth, New South Wales, Australia in 1969. Duncan began writing poetry in the early 1990's. His first poem "The 1991 Test" was published in New Visions: a poetry anthology by Writers World on the Queensland Gold Coast. At 21, Duncan became a member of the Henry Lawson society of NSW and in 1999 he was involved in a sponsorship to restore a manuscript written by Lawson. Duncan is a proud author and his poems have been collected in many anthologies in the United States, England, India and Australia. Duncan has self-published two books, Some verses i have wriiten and Old bushman's boots, an eight verse poem set to illustration. In September 2005, Duncan released a CD, Poems by Duncan Williams, that features fourteen original poems about Australia and bush themes.    [Above] Photo of Duncan Williams by Agfa-foto, 2004. I Next I Back I Exit I Thylazine No.11 (June, 2006)