Roland Robinson
Roland Robinson Poems
From the hollow trees in their native home
them old fellows cut the honeycomb.
On honey and little white grubs they fed,
...
Over the plains of the whitening grass
and the stunted mulga the drovers pass,
and in the red dust cloud, each side
of the cattle, the native stockmen ride.
...
I was clearing thirty or forty acres once
Out in the western range near Nightcap Mountain.
And as I was working, I heard a gathering of the crows
...
White birds, frightened from silver grass,
whose blood-rose breasts and wings are thrown
like petals settling down the pass,
...
Roland Robinson Biography
Roland Robinson,was born in Country Clare, Ireland in 1912. At the age of 9, in 1921 was brought to Australia. After only a brief education he worked in various jobs, mainly in the bush as a roustabout, boundary-rider, railway fettler, fencer, dam-builder, gardener and as a life long love - a ballet dancer. Robinson's first published poetry appeared in Beyond the Grass-Tree Spears published in 1944. He served in the Australian Army. His love of the Australian landscape and everyday scenes were inspiration for his poetry. He was one of the most dedicated poets to the Jindyworobak Movement. As a writer and poet Roland Robinson was dance critic for The Sydney Morning Herald in the 1950s and 1960s. In the 1940s he took classes with Helene Kirsova and appeared in a number of productions by the Kirsova Ballett. Roland died in Sydney in 1992)
The Best Poem Of Roland Robinson
Bees
From the hollow trees in their native home
them old fellows cut the honeycomb.
On honey and little white grubs they fed,
'cause them young bees was blackfeller's bread.
That's why they was so mighty and strong
in their native home in Currarong.
An' them old fellers' drink was honey-bul;
honey and water, a coolamon full.
Naked through the bush they went,
an' never knew what sickness meant,
them native bees could do you no harm,
they'd crawl all over your honey-smeared arm.
But them Eyetalian bees, they'd bung
your eyes right up. When we was young
we used to rob their honey-trees,
Savage! they'd fetch your blood, Them bees
would zoom an' zing an' chase a feller
from Bombaderry to Bodalla
Well Old Uncle Ninah, and Billy Bulloo
Old Jacky Mumbulla, King Merriman too,
them fierce old fellers, they're all gone now.
An' the wild honey's still in the gumtree bough.
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4/17/2024 11:03:12 PM # 1.0.0.1119
I only recently discovered this poet, and don't know how it's taken me so long. 'The Bees' is lovely example of his work. Several more of his poems published in 'Australian Poetry in the Twentieth Century', (William Heinemann Australia,1991) . I particularly liked 'The Prisoners' and 'Yoola and the Seven Sisters'