Emily Gap, east of Alice Springs, an ancient ceremonial site of the Aranda Aborigines.
drawing of violet coloured rocks

Poetry

- John C Egan

A TOUCH OF THE OUTBACK, which is a selection of poems and stories by the Western Australian bushman-prospector, Max March, is now released in a privately published booklet prepared by his daughter, Sue, and son-in-law, Mick, of Carnarvon.

This reveals quite another Max to the man I used to chat with on occasions. But that’s not unusual, I suppose, for bush poets. I wish I had known of his interest. It was an interest we might have shared.
I like his “little poems” best, the spontaneous things, such as “Just Me,” and “Old People’s Place.” No attempt at rhyming, just the essential thoughts, the impressions and feelings of the moment: things scribbled down and forgotten.
All of this reveals another man to the one I used to chat with along the way. It is interesting, too, to see that we often camped in the same out-of-the-way places, at Mundabullungana, Mangaroon, Minnie Creek, etc. Our tracks mingled without us knowing.
Here is a four-lined piece from the collection:

To have little and nothing of much
Makes life so easy to dream
But reality is a dog, swag,
A hot cup of tea and just me.

And another, “Old People’s Place” …

The old people’s place is a lonely place
Hills lay there untouched and hardly seen
Crumbling slowly through millions of years
They frame the flats, creeks and gullies
The broken volcanic rock in silence
A dead past they watch.

SHAY GAP
Between the lines the weeds grow rife
The sleepers by white ant are eaten,
The mile posts sag and lie on the ground
By the elements they are beaten
But don’t turn back from this rusted track,
Neglected throughout the years,
But follow it on and soon you will come
To a heap of rusted gears.

This was the place where the loader stood,
If you listen you’ll hear it’s roar.
See the ghostly shape of the loco there – Pulling out with it’s load of ore.
Then climb the hilll that towers above, To the crusher – a skeletal scene.
It brings to mind, some blokes I knew
Like ‘Bazza’ and “Concave Green.

Just over there, can you see through the glare?
Yes, that was the site of the mine
Now it’s just a scar on the mountain side
You can see where the wedgetail is flying
Now if you walk back along this old track,
To that flat-topped hill over yonder, You can gaze down on the site of the town
There’s not a lot left to ponder

That was Shay Gap, the shoe box town, In it’s hey-day a modern wonder.
It’s derelict now, but for me it lives on
In the hills that echoed with thunder.
Where are they now – the people I knew
The friends that I made and our neighbours
Those were happy days, I remember well
And we enjoyed the rewards of our labours.

But the ore ran out, and the mine shut down,
We lost our means of existence
But we loved this place – it will always live
It’s memory won’t fade in the distance.
It was a way of life that we came to love
It was just a small dot on the map
I know that however long I shall live
I shall never forget the town of Shay Gap

COMMENTS

  1. I lived in Shay Gap for about 4 years and I will never forget the town

    — Cameron Ivor Tollick · 21 November 2008 · #

  2. Is this the John Eagan of the Powder Crew, very nice
    “Is math liom an dann seo”

    — P. Cunningham · 25 April 2009 · #

  3. hi my name is rebecca thomas

    this is a really good peom

    — Rebecca · 19 May 2009 · #

  4. This is a wonderful poem. I really enjoyed reading it!

    — Georgia 30 August 2009 · 27 August 2009 · #

 
(not published)
   

Outback tree fork with knot