John D. Farley
John D. Farley Poems
My old mate Joe, his body has departed. My golfing mate, my Community involved mate, me Theater person mate, and then somewhere, somehow he sticks things in my mind. Knew and have known him. Joe is a real mate.
Some words from Joe.
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FARLEY’S COMPLETELY OBSCURE.
Oh how do you make a blues song, come out with Brunswick Valley?
Can you listen to the mournful sounds of ANZAC and the sounds of old reveille?
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For several months, a mother and her baby have come to join the 'ROCKY BOARDWALK', our Village accepts everyone. These new additions ARE the 'GUESTS OF HONOUR'.
THE ROCKY BOARDWALK AND MUMMY DOLPHIN.
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On the corner of Bourke and Burton, just down from Darlo’ Station.
A steamy laundry plied its trade, the best one in the nation.
I’ve never seen so many sheets, and shirts and all the rest.
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Mine, Anybody's Really. Moon Bay is in us all.
What’s that bloke about this time, he must be very odd.
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You won’t know this fella, till I get on with me prose.
But I’ll tell ya this my friends, I think he’s one of those.
Now before you howl me down and question my social status.
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Inseperable I feels, an enigma if you will, Woolloomooloo the locale half way up the hill.
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112 Palmer Street to be correct, Grand Ma’s place of liven’.
Down the back the dunny graced by choko vine, it was our place of respite, some say by God was given’.
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I had bought a milk run 1962, location; Avalon Beach, this story commences in the first weeks;
ME DOG PANCHO, PANCHO ME DOG.
What possessed me, this is midnight and blowin’, I’m all alone in me old ‘J’ van so let the repartee start flowin’.
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BIT MORE FROM ‘GRUMPY OLD BLOGGER’.
Any body remember the NAVEL TORPEDO BASE at TAYLORS POINT, via CLAREVILLE BEACH?
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Johnfarls.com, AKA; johnfarlsbrunz, AKA; john d Farley. Many schools, many places. Ordinary bloke.
THEY called her Mooseface.
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BRUNSWICK HEADS, THE ROCKY BOARDWALK, SOUTH.
A little hamlet in Australia, NSW.
Collect my thoughts, block out stigma, block out all we give to this very odd enigma.
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Bega, Bega Valley, Tathra. We took, we plundered. And yet a simple bloke believes the visions of a Special Place mean many things to many people. He believes he saw.
MINE, ANYBODY’S REALLY. MOON BAY LIVES.
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I GOT LOST MUMMY
In 2000 a little 6 year girl went “walkabout” from the yard of her home near Broken Head Northern NSW. She wandered off with her pet dog. Her mother had been in constant voice contact.
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How kids pick up language, sorry, words.
Heard a joke years ago. Little Tommy is five, mom and dad are building an extension to their house.
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John D. Farley Biography
POET, I'AM NOT A BLOODY POET, maybe not even a narrator, every thing I write is real time, it happened. Brand new to Poetry and Rhyming prose, just a 'Bush' Boy at heart. My motivation started from a recent tragic event in our little patch. Before this event I had been writing my 'little' story in narrative fashion, (http: //www.johnfarls.com) . I needed to express myself in a manner that WAS more AUSSIE and suited my personality. Much spoken word creeps into my vocabulary, I feel I can't change this enigma. As I commenced to rhyme I discovered many new words associations, some old english, much fun. I suppose the real basis for my ordinary poetry stems from the life I have lived, just ordinary. READ MY POEMS IN THE 'AUSSIE' RHYMING GENRE, YOU'LL HAVE MORE FUN.)
The Best Poem Of John D. Farley
Me Old Mate Joe
My old mate Joe, his body has departed. My golfing mate, my Community involved mate, me Theater person mate, and then somewhere, somehow he sticks things in my mind. Knew and have known him. Joe is a real mate.
Some words from Joe.
Me names Joe, sometimes Joseph, and yes me coat was of many colours brave.
But I’m just an ordinary bloke, so it won’t take long, your precious time, I’ll try hard to save.
I loved me friends at the Unit, overalls resplendent orange colour bold.
I didn’t give much ceremony for acrimony, but I did my duties told.
Well, they indicated “procuring”, and in my chosen field I did sound.
I was the store man, I procured things you might say, but I lifted stuff, all for Mullumbimby bound.
Fire fronts, cookin’ stuff, liven’ rough, and I did that and some more.
Look at you, you RFS, eat me food get a break, then put the peddle to the floor.
And was I an ordinary golfer? The “Swamp Pheasants”, Mullumbimby Golf Club is well known.
Handicap? Golfer? What’s that? When me mates wanted points, well, suddenly stableford has grown.
Every Monday, me mates and I would go to do the battle.
Never won a lot, a golf ball here, two bob here, so lets’ go on with the prattle.
Beth Wicks, all off this, a profession will be unfolden’, the SEA HORSE SINGERS, and Byron Shire is the place that is beholden’.
I had a job, prop manager, curtain puller, our shows were for the locals.
Never seen so many folk, given’it out, singn’it out. Good on ya Geoff Dart’s focal vocals.
And then, OH boy, they put me in the show and then Goldilocks’ I was bound and more.
The Vegemite Kids, I’m on the skids, makeup makes us good I’m sure.
Marginally attractive, curiously distractive, I think ugly is the word, the inscription.
Joe’s me name, and I’m on me way and had a good time, on me cemetery description.
Have a little tipple climb every mountain, me partner Coral won’t object.
She had the job of carer, and it wasn’t good, that I expect.
I was just an ordinary bloke, I got more than I gave.
Help me settle down, depart this life, and don’t you be so grave.
Will you have a talk, but don’t talk of sad, and I’m certain Coral she won’t billya’.
Have a cuppa’, have a snack.
Now pour a little drink for me, willya’.
John Farley and Joe, © 2008
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