THOSE WITH NO TOMORROWS

Frank Hurley

29 Oct 1917 copyright expired

THOSE WITH NO TOMORROWS

Can you hear the footsteps

of all those weary souls

traipsing over sodden fields

with worn boots and socks with holes...

Can you feel their heartache

so far from hearth and home

many looking for adventure

as foreign lands they were to roam.

One by one, they ventured forth

at first, their heads held high.

One by one, their mates did fall

they knew their time was nigh.

On and on, they fought so brave

for freedom was their goal.

Those with no tomorrows

did give their very soul.

(c) Crissouli 2013

LEST WE FORGET

BEAUTIFUL MEMORIES

BEAUTIFUL MEMORIES

Artie's... Artie Shaw's band

evoking memories of a bygone era…

was life really so simple then?

"Blowing bubbles… in the air…"

The melodious warble of a clarinet

the rise and fall of perfect notes

swirling skirts of crepe - de - chine

tantalising snatches of fragrance

from bruised corsages

and perfumed hair…

carefully pinned and rolled, 

or gently waved

with the help of sugar and water.

Bulky suits, double breasted,

wide lapels,

pleated and cuffed trousers

and always, shining shoes.

Greasy palms, partly from anxiety

partly from pushing back brylcreemed hair.

Sawdust on the floor

fresh flowers mingling with half filled ashtrays..

huge bowls of punch

secretly laced with alcohol

by foolhardy, fancy free boys…

A furtive embrace

on moonlight swathed balconies…

The young, trying so hard

to look sophisticated -

the sophisticated -

 trying so hard to look young.

Cars with running boards,

lamp lit avenues, lined with trees,

and shadows…

the beckoning welcome of a light

shining through velvet draped windows.

Beautiful notes, beautiful music

beautiful memories.

© Crissouli

Image courtesy of ClipArtHut

WITH BEARD OF SALTED GREY

(c) expired

WITH BEARD OF SALTED GREY

They rode by the Diamantina

and alongside the Barcoo and never saw

another living soul.

They crossed the Haddon Corner

where the days are hot and long

and never thought

they'd ever reach their goal.

But there they met a fellow

with beard of salted grey

who told them of a place

that he'd once been.

They spent the night in dreaming

as young men often do

of the rich life that their new friend

said he'd seen.

In the shadows of the Beal Range

they packed again their swags

and made off

in the early morning light.

With their pans upon their shoulders

and strong boots they'd always worn

these two young men did make a splendid sight.

All day long, the adventurers bore

the sticky tiresome heat

and ever brushed

at buzzing swarms of flies.

They trudged along till day was night

and cooling shadows fell

giving welcome rest

to itchy, swollen eyes.

They found again their old campsite

that they'd made among the trees

and settled down

to rest their weary bones. 

They talked of Clancy of the Overflow

and of others that they'd heard

and slept once more

ignoring ghostly groans.

For at this unimposing campsite

some knew there once had been

a ghastly night,

of deeds so very foul

when a man had once been murdered

for another's pot of gold

and this evil deed

had made him ever prowl.

Not knowing of this long gone time

they dreamt the night away

with golden thoughts 

still racing through their mind.

They never woke to see the ghost

with beard of salted grey

who had ensured

that no gold would they find.

'Twas many years before they found,

at the campsite near the bank,

their whitened bones

still in their bloodied rags.

'Tis said the ghost with beard of grey

makes eerie sounds at night..

and still, it's said, he preys on men

who carry mining swags.

© Crissouli

A MOMENT - OR TWO..

(c) unknown

A MOMENT - OR TWO

The quiet stillness of the dawn 

envelops me

wrapped in a cocoon of peace

and solitude

I, at first, feel tense

so much to do

yet, too early for most.

Time to relax, yet I shower, 

quickly,

not willing to let the first

rays of sunlight elude me.

In the distance

a bird calls to it's mate

welcoming a new dawning.

Time to sit and think

and write

to welcome God's gift

of a brand new day.

Too late, the haunting bark 

of the dog next door

shatters the stillness of the dawn.

Then, once again, peace

and quiet…

a steaming cup of coffee

my only companion.

Thank you, Lord,

for these Blessed moments

and, more importantly,

a time of renewal.

© Crissouli

I'M ONE !

I'M ONE !

I'm one, I'm one, 

I'm really one

The days just rush on by

I have to write, I really do

Sometimes I wonder why...

There are things to do

And places to go

And dreams as yet unfolded

With so much that still awaits

I sometimes feel unmolded!

The words do come, 

The dreams do stay

The sun is ever rising

Please come on by 

And share with me

It really is surprising!

(c) Crissouli

DEAR MOTHER

Mother dear,

I meant to write every day, I truly did...
you are always in my thoughts....
I miss your laugh, your smile, 
I even miss your rousing at me 
for not chopping the wood. 
I know I promised that once I got home 
you would never have to do it again.

Did you get the poppy I sent you? 
They are such a beautiful bright red
and I know how much you love them. 
I hope the censor didn't take it out of the envelope.
I forgot to say Thank You for the socks
I know they took you a long time to knit them all
I hope you don't mind, but I gave a pair to my mate
His boots leaked, but the socks helped. 

I promised to fix the fence as well
I am sorry, Mother, I really am,
but it's good that you got our neighbour in
you might need him to help a bit more.
You taught me never to break a promise
but sometimes, you can't help it.

I'm sorry, Mother, that I can't see your smile
I long for your arms around me, I'm cold
as I sleep among the poppies in a Flanders field
No need to keep knitting, Mother
I have enough socks now
Sorry, Mother, for not keeping my promises
Today, I did write, with all my love.

(c) Crissouli

                                            (c) chrismilne

A Trinket Or A Treasure

A Trinket Or A Treasure

                                    

A trinket or a treasure

It means the same to me

For holding on to this small thing

I feel that you're with me.

I feel your touch

So warm and kind

As if you're asking me to see

That though the years

 They do us part

You are a part of me

I may not have a photograph

To see your kindly smile

But still I feel your presence

As if you linger for a while.

Please know that I am grateful

For this link that we have shared

Know also that you still do live

In the heart of one who cared.

Crissouli(c) 

THAT WAS THEN...

I love leather... I would have walked on hot coals to have a  

leather satchel like the one that I saw in the second hand shop...

such stuff as dreams are made of. 

I always longed to go to a solid brick school, with lots of timber and surrounded by  

beautiful gardens. Instead, I simply had to put up with quaint timber  

schools, lots of light and open spaces and surrounded by huge Moreton  

Bay figs, some literally hundreds of years old, which we were  

forbidden to climb. 

I would have taken notice, I really would, but  

it's very hard to hear a yelling teacher calling out "ChrisTINE, for  

the last time, come down from that tree, or ELSE!!" Hard, because the  

branches I liked to sit on were a long way up. One hot afternoon, the  

grade teacher went marching into battle, at least that's what she  

looked like, straight down to my parent's shop, and demanded that my  

mother do something about me climbing trees as "she is setting a bad  

example". My mother got her Irish up and asked if I had ever fallen  

out of a tree, or if I ever pushed anyone out of one, or even up  

one...   "Well, no, but..."

"No?" said my mother, and gave her her best glare, "Well you had  

better get about your business and let me get about mine."

"Well, I never" said Battling Bertha, as we called our dear teacher....  

she really was ok. " Maybe you should" said Mum. The teacher left, Mum  

took a deep breath and I came out of the back room, all smiles.  

Whack. Through tears, I asked why.. when she had stood up to the  

teacher. I was told in no uncertain terms that Mum letting the teacher  

know that she thought it was ok, was one thing, but me causing  

problems and then the teacher needing to come see Mum was another.  

From then on, I never climbed the trees, in school hours. I know I  

digressed, but it still brings a smile to my face when I think of that  

day and I reminded myself when I mentioned the trees.

Crissouli (c)

SUMMER DELIGHTS!

BLOG OF THE YEAR AWARD 2012

BLOG OF THE YEAR AWARD 2012

It is with great pleasure and surprise that I accept the Nomination by 

Pauleen of Family history across the seas to be included in 

her selection of five blogs she has chosen to nominate for 

"Blog of the Year 2012 Award ".

 I feel I am in very good company as you can see by her nominations 

HERE

Congratulations to all.

 Now it is my task to nominate others... not by any means easy  

as I follow and enjoy so many blogs and choosing just a few

 means leaving many other great blogs out this time.

You may find that you are following some of these already, if not, 

I hope you will read a little and see why they have caught my attention.

A Silver Voice From Ireland

written by the wonderful Angela 

who takes us on a journey through history or introduces us 

to the charm of Ireland today. 

She writes with such passion and enthusiasm 

that you can't help but be swept up 

in her always interesting posts.

MaherMatters

written by Janet who invites us to learn more about the history 

of Irish settlement in Connecticut in particular 

and has led to her very much sought after book 

released last year.

From the Old Sod to the Naugatuck Valley

Her articles are so comprehensive and written 

with such feeling and understanding that, 

even though I have no connection 

to those whose lives she explores, I find her blog 

compulsive reading.

Seeking Susan ~ Meeting Marie ~ Finding Family

I can't overlook Catherine who is always so modest 

about her work, but doesn't recognise the power she has 

to lead us through so many emotions...

One minute, I am battling to stop the tears flowing, 

the next I am laughing out loud. 

This incredible natural writer simply shares 

her ancestors, her life, her thoughts and feelings 

so well, that the reader becomes her friend.

Irish in the American Civil War

written by Damian whose passion and love of history 

have taken me on an amazing journey and taught me 

so much about the Irish participation 

in the American Civil War and the attitudes 

of those times. His diligent research 

and copious links to other reading provides 

so much more than the normal tales of history.

 Family history across the seas

Though Pauleen nominated me for this award, 

I can't overlook her always intriguing blogs. 

I have learnt so much from reading her tips on research, 

her guidance towards helping us to be better researchers 

has been invaluable. Pauleen has a great way of exploring 

the story behind the facts, so you really feel attached 

to those she writes about, and look forward to even more 

tales to come.

Sincere Congratulations to all my nominees and 

Thank You for sharing your wonderful blogs with us all.

The ‘rules’ for this award are simple:

1. Select the blog(s) you think deserve the ‘Blog of the Year 2012’ Award

2. Write a blog post and tell us about the blog(s) you have chosen – there’s no minimum or maximum number of blogs required – and ‘present’ them with their award.

3. Please include a link back to this page ‘Blog of the Year 2012’ Award –http://thethoughtpalette.co.uk/our-awards/blog-of-the-year-2012-award/ and include these ‘rules’ in your post (please don’t alter the rules or the badges!)

4. Let the blog(s) you have chosen know that you have given them this award and share the ‘rules’ with them

5. If you choose, you can now join our Facebook group – click ‘like’ on this page ‘Blog of the Year 2012’ Award Facebook group and then you can share your blog with an even wider audience

6. As a winner of the award – please add a link back to the blog that presented you with the award – and then proudly display the award on your blog and sidebar … and start collecting stars… For further information on collecting stars, just click on the link provided in Rule 3.