- Last seen on Nov 3 7:06 PM. Member since February 4, 2008.
- I am a 76 year old person (Australia)
- I have 130 comments, 170 poems, 39 stories, 4 journals
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- Dust Storm at storywrite
it's September 2009, and the state of New South Wales in Australia is covered in dust, literally. The experts say it is the worst dust storm in nearly seventy years.1 - Petrol Heads at storywrite
As a young and impressionable male I had the motor racing fever just the same as all my friends but where i lived there was no circuit so the aim of every petrol head was to go to Mount Panorama Racing circuit at Bathurst, N - Tiga at storywrite
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on The Target by Ivor Gurney, on November 10To me this poem highlights the pointless side of wars, any wars. The enemy is only an enemy because some politician said so. There is no personal enmity between the individual opponents. The mental anguish suffered by Gurney was suffered by a great many others and its effects differed ,depending on the mental strength of each person.
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on The Mouth-Organ by Cicely Fox Smith, on November 7This is an excellent piece of writing in the 'vernacular'. An apparently uneducated soldier writing as he spoke. I have not seen a lot of this writing outside of 'Punch' and the ' Sea songs and Ballads' both of which are referred to above. I did have another book of poetry written during WW1 but have lost it somewhere and cannot remember its name.
Poetry written during WW1 in the 'vernacular' always came directly from the heart of the writer. Wonderful stuff, sometimes heartbreaking, sometimes hilarious, but always with the ring of reality written into it. -
on Th’ Owd Family Bible by William Baron, on November 3I prefer the original form of the poem to the modernised one. It speaks of love going back a generation and is full of memories from other times. The modern version lacks that voice from the past. maybe I'm a bit picky but our modern language is more suited to shopkeepers and businessmen than to reminiscing about another time.
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on The Call by Edgar Albert Guest, on October 20This poem is magical to me, who sat patiently watching a magpie feed its young for over an hour this morning.
