The Collected Verse of TBV

Cox Plate Morning

In my youth I watched a legend

Almost black his coat quite dark

With his daisy cutting action

Winning races breaking hearts

Down south he could get beaten

Yet his legend there was made

No not the race that stops a nation

But in the race the purists crave.

Now much older I've been watching

A mare who rivals Kingston Town

With her dainty fluid motion

She mows her rivals down

With the country now behind her

Willing all to turn out right

The Valley will be ringing

At the bend when she takes flight

No doubt the course will party

For when Champions come to play

We know we've seen a legend

Give her strength to make our day

For no others have yet challenged

For that record Kingston holds

Even greats have just not reached it

But Winx is Queen we've all been told.

So sweet lady leave them standing

Break their hearts again today

Help them see we watch true greatness

Street the field just run your way

May the cheers that greet your winning

Raise the roofs and part the skies

When you come back all will love you

They've seen a legend take the prize.

The glory of a runner

On a track both wet or dry

The heart in mouth endeavour

Of a filly born to fly.

Not for her the choice of leading

Not for her just off the pace

Be it sunny, dull or streaming

From behind she makes us wait

And as she rounds the corner

As her run begins to surge

The crowds stand as one to greet her

And the roaring can be heard

As if a child won't remember

As she charges for the line

As his parents cheer together

Finding joy and tears combine

What she's given to her public

For more seasons than most run

Don't you think we'll all remember

Watching Winx bring out the fun

There are days when all is dreary

There are days we just can't take

But then racing folk get talking

And a smile takes it place.

How good is Winx we wonder

With each mounting win we cheer

For she never seems to falter

She charges right on through our fear.

When the Europeans mock her

When they doubt the class she beats

In the Cox Plate "we'll defeat her"

But they can't she's just too fleet.

Australia stand to greet her

Understand she stands unique

Never underestimate a Champion

Four Cox Plates beneath her feet.

In the annuals of racing

Many Champions are found

From the mouths of racing pundits

The names go round and round.

Phar Lap was the greatest

But don't forget our Peter Pan

Bernborough rates a mention

Flight, Wakeful, Shannon, Kingston Town. 

You've all forgotten Tulloch

No we haven't Todman too

Heroic was erratic

But a Champion through and through

Lonhro, Vain, Poseidon

That's going back add in The Barb

Did anyone say So You Think

He and Takeover travelled far.

Takeover Target yes I rate him

Don't forget Black Caviar

As if we could forget her

Greatest sprinting mare by far.

Wenona Girl was pretty fast

Has anyone added Ajax

The names keep coming on and on

We'd end up filling pages.

But today we watch a mighty mare

And marvel at her deeds

For she travels over further

Never races on the speed.

She circles them each raceday

At the corner round she comes

As the people stand to greet her

She makes that mighty run

Winx brings us to the races

To watch her win her crown

And with the Queen Elizabeth

21^st Thank You

The love that opened up the door

That taught me right from wrong

That gave to me a happy home

With laughter joy and song.

Which protected me from a world of fears

That eased my troubled mind

That guided me with hands outstreached

Through the years up to this time.

I never once stopped thanking God

For the greatest gift of all

For parents who always loved and cared

For more years than I recall.

I only hope that they both know

My love for them that grows

Because they daily watered it

And in my heart it knows –

No greater love was cherished

Or even bought to pass

Than the love I have for both of them

That will for ever last.

Mum was one of a kind.  She was a giver not a taker.  Her first memories were of dairy cows and she retained that love until she died.  As one of six children and the second youngest Mum was very shy.  But as a youngster she and her baby brother got up for a fair bit of mischief.  She told the tale of a billy goat chasing them all the way up the hill and into the house.  What she didn’t say is why the billy goat was chasing them in the first place.  Then later on there was the story of shooting cherry pips across Central Station platforms.  I’d say that would have been frowned on by Grandma.

There were plenty of tales from childhood.  Riding her bike or walking to school at Marshall Mount.  The time they had a flood through the corner shop her parents were running.  Broken biscuits from that corner shop.  Another time when they had a thunder bolt go through their home.  And standing around the piano while her Mother played.  She particularly loved Robins Return and The Maidens Prayer.  Her parents started a band when they lived at Marshall Mount and I think that was the place she loved best.

It was certainly a place where she loved to return.  The one room school of her childhood also was next to the local hall where her brother set up an old time dance which we’d troop down to every New Year.  Mum and Dad would be most graceful waltzing around the floor (Dad had ballroom training).  She loved sitting and listening to her big brother Arthur playing the accordion, her foot would be tapping away to the music.

Mum and Dad meet working at PDS Flour Mill.  Mum was a secretary.  She had a secret weapon.  I can’t remember a word Mum couldn’t spell correctly.  She was living down at Botany Bay with her big sister Edna while she worked.  That was during the time the subs crept into Sydney Harbour.  Mum and Dad married in 1946 just after the war finished and first lived in the Southerland shire. 

But when the department of main roads was planning a highway they had to sell up and they bought land at Pennant Hills.  This was about the time my sister Anne was a small child.  While clearing the block they were killing funnel web spiders right left and center so Anne had to sit on an old piece of tin and not move.  As she’s the obedient one she was good about it.  I’m pretty sure I was born the year after they moved in.

I remember Mum having horrendous migraines during my childhood but even so she’d be up getting us breakfast.  We didn’t have a car so she had to walk to the shops or walk us to school or church.  I was the laggard!  I also remember the time she had to have all her teeth out at the dentist.  I was only about three at the time and none of the needles seemed to work.  It was traumatic for both of us.  I remember standing on Pennant Hills station waiting for the train and when the noise hit me diving under her skirt to get away from it.  Mum must have been saint as I can’t remember her getting angry about it.

Mum loved her garden at Pennant Hills.  It was a long hilly block and we also kept a couple of sheep to trim the grass down the back and chickens for eggs and the occasional roast chook.  We also had a Macadamia tree which was a particular favourite as we all loved the nuts.  I also remember the day when Mum and I were sitting at the dining table when Julie waved in through the window.  Mum went white, as Julie shouldn’t have been able to be there, and when she then disappeared we rushed out to find the collapsed boxes she piled up to do her stunt with Julie grinning at us unhurt.

I remember big family Christmas gatherings with much of her family (particularly in my younger days) visiting.  I’m sure everyone bought food but Mum would have been cooking for the month of December.  I remember the same thing happening for school fetes.  She would make marshmallow bunnys, coconut ice, toffees, cakes.  You name it and she would have been cooking it for days.  She liked to stay behind the scenes and do the work.  Probably her shyness showing up.

Dad liked his three veg and meat for tea.  So that is what Mum cooked for him and us.  Also the meat had to be well cooked.  When Dad BBQ’d the sausages they were always black.  But when Dad got a car with his job (when I was a teenager) he had to go away every couple of weeks.  Then Mum would get very adventurous.  Out would come the spaghetti Bolognese, fried rice and plenty of other things!  She actually loved to try new things.  She loved Chinese food also.

Our holidays were first taken with the help of Uncle Chal and his car.  Always to a relative both on her and Dads side.  We’d spend New Year with Uncle Arthur and his foot taping music.  We’d visit Aunty Stella every August holidays hoping to see snow.  Then one magical holiday we woke up to a sea of white and Mum was out and about with all of the children.  Aunty Stella and Dad spent the time warm near the fire and Mum would rush in with a cup of snow to flavour and Aunty Stella would say watch out Ida there are two dogs out there.  Then we built a snow man and went tobogganing and Mum was in the thick of things.  We also used to go up to Hampton get our Christmas Tree.

Then first Anne and then I got married and Mum was there making my wedding dress.  She always sewed for us as we grew up.  I still have the dress she made when I was a holy angel for the First Holy Communicans of their year.  All my children wore it.  And my granddaughter also wore it.  All the children got a Teddy Bear (it had to be a shade of brown none of these coloured bears) and then later she made each a crochet branket for their beds.   She was dealing with her own heartache during those years having lost Dad after the first three grandchildren came along.  But always her heart was filled with love for Anne, Julie and I as well as for all of her grandchildren. 

During holidays she’d have a house full of children walking them miles all over Pennant Hills between shops and parks and play areas.  The energy my mother had was not inherited by me!  They all have fond memories of their time playing with her at Pennant Hills.  Then if they were good at the end of the week up they would go to get the special treat of KFC, which was at the top of her street.  As a stay at home Mum she had put up with the smell from my teenage years and while we all loved it and wanted to have the KFC chicken for birthdays Mum could never really get into it.  But a treat is a treat and she would do anything for her family.

When she finally admitted she was getting too old to stay at Pennant Hills she sold up and moved out to Annangrove with my Older sister Anne and her family.  But that didn’t stop her catching the bus back to Pennant Hills to be a part of her old St Agatha’s group meeting Gathering Point once a week for cards and Mum’s favourite Rummy Kub.  Honestly she also played cards and Rummy Kub with us when on holidays or visiting and she didn’t always know the game but she was incredibly lucky and won more than her fair share of games.  As she got older Anne drove her into Pennant Hills but in the end covid put an end to her visits.

Also during her time with the Millers my eldest daughter Kat took a job outback in Queensland.  At her birthday we all decided to visit and Chris and I were then going up to the top and down the coast.  My wonderful husband said why don’t we take your Mum.  So at the amazing age of 90 she began to see more of Australia.  The worst was Cape York, when there was no accommodation available, except at a caravan park which was very down run.  Mum was less worried about it than I was and loved every part of the trip.  So, for the next couple of years, she came with us on our trips.  And if we saw a dairy cow herd she had to stop to get a good look.  Also I can still see her foot tapping to the marching bands at the ANZAC march down in Melbourne.

The last trip was through South Australia and up to the Red Centre.  Anne and Noel also came on that trip because Chris and I continued up to Darwin and Mum thought that would be too long a trip.  We stayed underground at one stop and that was most amazing for Mum.  After visiting the Olgas in the rain the Rock put on such a show that Mum’s face glowed with happiness.

After that Anne became the one who drove Mum everywhere as public transport became too hard with her advancing arthritis and age.  But she would still be out in the garden and determined to finish the work needing doing because what else would she do?  If she sat down she’d fall asleep.  Mum also loved crosswords and reading and would often walk up to Pennant Hills library and get a book before going home with Anne from Gathering Point.  I’d buy papers and keep the crossword page for Mum.

Then we lost Chris and Covid hit and get togethers became hard for all of us.  But I still remember winning the trifecta for 2020 Melbourne Cup and all of us going out for lunch at the Gingerbread House up at Katoomba with the winnings.  Anne, Mum and I always shared a mystery trifecta ticket but that year I picked my own choices and that was our first and only win.  Then shortly after she had her fall and covid once again shut down our visits while she was in rehab.  A horrid time for Mum who didn’t understand why she couldn’t go home to her family.  That was all she wanted and we couldn’t visit.

So that’s how I remember Mum most.  A dynamo who never stopped until something out of her control stopped her.  She never failed to deliver the love we all needed and helped with every new child in the family.  Her love will be the hardest thing to say goodbye too.  That never ending knowledge that no matter what she loved us all.  Thank you Mum for being the wonderful warm loving person you were.  We all loved you also.

Today 1998

Today is the start of the future

Today has a promise to keep

No Past to distract or to soil you

All you sow is the crop you shall reap.

Too much anger or hate cannot flourish

When the past has been laid to its rest

All our thoughts must be open to reason

It's the future we put to the test.

Today can be all that we've wanted

As long as our hearts remain whole

It's the yesterdays which we should bury

We must find for the world a new soul.

We all hold a gift for tomorrow

To each falls a task they can do

If we don't give, what's the use of receiving

To this world we must always be true.

The Long Plain Run

 Up in the Snowies, where the winds softly sigh,

Up from the Long Plain and the Coolamine Run,

Lies the ghost town Kiandra, beneath a cold timeless sky.

Once a bustling haven, home to seekers of gold,

And growers of fine wool, with stories yet to unfold.

Where the wild dingoes howled their mournful, eerie song,

As brumbies galloped freely, spirits fierce and strong.

In the heart of nature's realm, where freedom’s no end,

These creatures roamed valleys, on paths that twist and bend.

But now echoes linger, in the whisper of the breeze,

The seekers and the growers are but shadows in trees.

The wild ones' call has faded, their hoofbeats lost in time,

Kiandra stands in silence, a memory sublime.

The mountains hold their secrets, the plains their dreams,

Of days when life was vibrant, and gold was in streams.

Now all but gone, a fleeting glimpse, of history's hand,

Kiandra's tale, a whispered thread, in the tapestry of the land.

The stars above still glimmer, like jewels in the night,

Witnesses to a past, so full of life and light.

The miners' hopes and dreams, their laughter their sweat,

Echo through the ages, in a town they won't forget.

Their legacy, a mark upon the rugged terrain,

Etched in the heart of Kiandra, enduring the pain.

The seasons change, the snow melts reveal,

The remains of a town, where history comes to kneel.

In the cold thawing earth,  footprints of the past,

Tell tales of who ventured, and dreams not to last.

But in the quiet solitude, the spirit remains,

Of Kiandra's golden era, in the cold snowy plains.

As the sun rises gently, casting a golden hue,

Over the silent town, where once life fiercely grew,

The whispers of days past, carried by the breeze,

Bring stories of a time, of hope and destinies.

The town stands as witness, to the passage of time,

To the ebb and flow of life, in nature's grand design.

Kiandra's tale woven, into the fabric of the land,

A testament to the pioneers, who took a brave stand.

Their courage their spirit, their dreams their despair,

Are etched into the mountains, and waft in the air.

Though the town lies in silence, its heart, it still beats,

In the echoes of history, in the shadows of gone streets.

The long plain stretches onward, a canvas vast and wide,

Holding the memories of Kiandra, where pioneers once tried.

Their journey now a story, in the mountain's firm grasp,

A reminder of resilience, in every tree and clasp.

For though the town now slumbers, with its people away,

Kiandra's legacy remains, the light of the day.

So let us cherish Kiandra, and its tales still to tell,

Of a time that was vibrant, and dreams within dwelled.

Let the mountains, plains, and valleys, keep safe the lore,

Of a town called Kiandra, and the echoes it bore.

For in the heart of nature, where freedom knows no end,

Kiandra's spirit lingers, with the wind that it blends.

From the long plain’s edge to the towering peaks,

Kiandra's story whispers, for those choosing to seek.

In every gust of wind, and every rustling leaf,

The town’s enduring legacy carries on in brief.

A chapter of the greater tale, of this vast ancient land,

Kiandra’s ghostly presence will forever withstand.

The snow-capped peaks forever stand guard, over the site,

A monument to history, bathed in morning's soft light.

And as years pass by, and memories wane,

Kiandra's spirit endures, like a gentle, refrain.

For the long plain run, and the mountains above,

Are filled with echoes of a town, and its stories of love.

So if you find yourself, in those snowy peaks one day,

Listen to the wind's soft song and hear what it might say.

For Kiandra's tale continues, in the whispers of the breeze,

A timeless, haunting melody, that dances through trees.

And though the town lies silent, its soul still sings,

Of gold, wool, and brumbies, with spirits on wings.

In the snowy mountains' heart, where the winds softly sigh,

Kiandra’s ghostly presence will never really die.

For every stone and stream, and every ancient tree,

Holds a piece of the past, and Kiandra’s legacy.

The long plain remains, a path for those choosing to seek,

To uncover the stories, of the mountains and peaks.

As the sun sets gently, painting the sky with its hues,

Of orange, pink, and purple, blending with blues,

The ghost town Kiandra, beneath the cold timeless sky,

Whispers its tales of yesterday, to those who pass by.

Its history a treasure, etched in the land's warm embrace,

A memory of life's adventure, with an indelible trace.

(c) copyright Take2 february 2025 all rights reserved

Whispers of the Plains

In the summer of eighteen thirty-three,

Gibson, Faithfull, Palmer's decree,

That with mighty cattle herds they ascend,

To Kiandra Plains, the highlands' friend.

From Southern Tablelands they came,

Seeking pastures, a grazier's claim,

Across the Snowy Mountains high,

Beneath the vast Australian sky.

For three weeks from July's embrace,

Storms swept Snowy Mountains' face,

A blizzard white, a wintry shroud,

Nature's force, serene yet loud.

Cattle lost in snow's deep bed,

Among them, Patrick Whelan's dread,

An Irish convict on the plains,

Vanished in the storm's remains.

Gibson, Faithfull, Palmer fled,

To Riverina's safety led,

Abandoning high country's grace,

For lowland stations' warm embrace.

Their tenure brief, months but few,

Yet legends of their stay grew,

Gibson's name forever tied,

To Kiandra's plains, stretched far and wide.

Grassed valleys, once gold's domain,

Hold tales of fortune, tales of pain,

Snow depths so great, now memories,

Of bullock bones 'midst snowgums' freeze.

The bones of bullocks who tried to feed,

In deep snowdrifts on upper branches,

Of smothered trees perished, and at the wintery blast,

Nature's cruel hand, their fate was cast.

Oh, Kiandra, whisperer of past,

Of graziers' dreams and storms so vast,

In your quiet, stories reside,

Echoes of history, time's tide.

For generations, the tales endure,

Of hardships faced, of lives unsure,

In Australia's alpine crest,

The highland plains lay souls to rest.

Gibson, Faithfull, Palmer's quest,

Their fleeting stay, a grazer's test,

In Kiandra's heart, their mark remains,

Whispers of the Kiandra Plains.

Out of the gloom, a miracle came,

Of Old Bill Ward and Yiak Bill, game.

Upon the southern land, they braved,

In 1834, the storm enslaved.

Imprisoned by the weather's might,

Their struggle etched in history's sight.

On Gibson's land and Kiandra's crest,

Faithfull's past, and Coolamel's test,

The storm's cruel hand took many a beast,

In mountains high, their numbers ceased.

Palmer's station near Kiandra lay,

Ucumbene down Snowy River way.

The hut entombed in snow's embrace,

Its dwellers trapped in icy space.

Mr. Ward, of Paddy's River fame,

In charge, he faced the storm's cruel game.

A week they spent in buried plight,

Till Yiak Bill, with courage bright,

Led a rescue through snow's depth,

Guided by trees, their tops beset.

He guessed the hut's concealed domain,

And dug through thirty feet of strain.

Not gold, but human lives he found,

The miracle on snow-clad ground.

Thus saved, they breathed the air anew,

Their tale of survival grew,

In Australia's alpine height,

Their story shared by winter's light.

Copyright © Take2 April 2025