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January 3, 2018 ,

Love’s Gone

Love’s Gone

There’s no love left
at the old homestead,
chook yard n stables,
where we as kids
saddled up n rode around,
it’s all collapsed
back to bare ground.

The 8 stand shed
where we shore big mobs,
been gutted out
for a machinery shed.

And the wife n kids
all live in town
ever since
the bus shut down.

We’re cropping big time,
big gear to boot and
we’ve ripped most of
the fences out.

Livestock’s a memory
twice removed,
piles of wire,
steel posts speared through,
dozed in the bush
to rust away,
can’t see us fencing
another day.

It takes six weeks
to get it in.

By June, July
it’s home n hosed
park the gear
up in the shed,
wait
n watch
n pray for rain
in hope Jack Frost
stays well away.

Harvest comes quickly
every year
n every year
we rip it off
with harvesters
that cost a bomb.

But end of harvest
every year
regardless of
years,
yield
n costs.

There’s time to sit back,
kick back,
ready up,
for next years session
with the crop.

JT

John Taylor’s novel “The Ute”

the ute book by john taylor now available at Lulu.com


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December 1, 2014

Roses

Never stopped to smell the roses.
Sweet scent followed on the drive.
Reminders ‘mongst the people,
roses round the countryside.

Occasionally they prick and tear,
a minute’s quiet respite.
Back on the drive with roses’
sweet scent wafts down the line.


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November 24, 2014

Love

Been in love
Been out of love
Been around a bit
Had a go at jobs around
Took a coupla hits
In amongst the ups ‘n’ downs
Attitude prevailed
Fell in love
Stayed around
Backed off on the hits.

If you like my poems . . .

The Ute by john taylor
Consider buyin’ my yarn “The Ute”
Less than 5 bucks for Kindle.

Check it out on Amazon Kindle.


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June 23, 2014

Seduced

Seduced in the moment
of foaming White light,
powerful ongoing desire.

Wrecked in a flash,
surfed up Derelict.
Pounded by swell,
mounding out back.

Weedbank and debris swirl each foaming rush.
Last chance at high tide getting off.

Seduced in moments
of peace ‘tween wave rushes.
High tide floating off,
face into the swell,
out of sight in the troughs.

Regimental foam ridges,
powering over the crest,
head down in high speed elation.
Seduced each moment ‘tween rushes.


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May 26, 2014

Could be lovin’

Could be lovin’
Could be hate
Could be something in translate.

A word,
a sentence,
a full blown speech.

Translated down to lost in space
and far off thought waves dancing back,
graph line rises,
dips and flows,
levels gently as it goes.

If you like my poems . . .

The Ute by john taylor
Consider buyin’ my yarn “The Ute”
Less than 5 bucks for Kindle.

Check it out on Amazon Kindle.


No Comments

Love’s Gone
Roses
Love
Seduced
Could be lovin’