What People Say
about the poem 'Croc and Brock's Farewell'
Joan what a wonderful poem, Than you for sharing such talent and such a wonderful message. I will pass it onto friends if I may as it truly is special.
With thanks
Andrea
Hi Joan, Your poem made me cry it was so beautiful.
Love G
Your tribute to the Crock and Brock was awesome! You have such a heartfelt way with words! ... Leonie
The First Kiss
I met him down in Melbourne at St Kilda by the sea
Across the room I saw him. I loved him and he loved me.
Surrounded by his family, he hastened to my side.
A warm embrace he gave me when I held my arms out wide.
No inhibitions showing, in our eyes affection shone.
His hair was black, though also rust. My heart to him was gone.
There was no hesitation. We knew we’d share a home.
Back to the Territory we’d go and he no more would roam.
The bonding it was instant, I hugged him to my breast.
His loving kiss was tender as he rested on my chest.
His name was Marty, now he’s gone, his tender heart I miss
But still recall when I first felt my beagle puppy’s kiss.
I walked along the golden sand,
I picked up one small shell.
The ocean was an azure blue,
the waves were just a swell.
The skyline buildings sparkling white
and birds soared overhead.
I breathed the ozone, looked around,
and that is when I said:
I’ll drink to that. So good to be alive upon this earth.
I’ll drink to that, my life divine, and bless my day of birth.
I peered out of the aircraft’s port
and saw the clouds of white
In rows of cotton powder puffs.
It was a wondrous sight.
Beneath were hills in contoured shapes
with snaking rivers green.
Amazing to be up so high
to view this different scene.
I’ll drink to that – to fly like birds so freely place to place.
I’ll drink to that – to leave the ground
and claim another space.
I visited with friends one day
to share the morning meal.
We talked and laughed. We bared our souls,
emotions to reveal.
The Aussie breakfast was a feast,
the atmosphere was fun.
Our world is loving energy,
so join me everyone –
And drink to that – the choice we have
to choose the life we love;
To see the beauty every day, ‘neath sun or moon above.
I heard ‘The News’ of crime and fear.
Another place, not mine.
Those happenings in parallel
with me just don’t align.
How can we live in different states,
still on the same small world,
Where people hate, where hurt exists,
bad words or bombs are hurled?
Don’t drink to that – don’t give it force
to increase - overtake.
Don’t drink to that for you will add
to human kind’s mistake.
Our own Blue Planet needs our help
so it can nurture still.
More trees, clear water, wildlife safe.
It only takes our will.
Though Steve has gone, his faith survives,
in caring hands to show
If we direct our thoughts that way
the energy will grow.
So drink to that. We all are held
in Mother Earth’s strong hands.
Let’s drink to that, and spread the word,
across the seas and lands.
I turn my thoughts to gratitude
and see a world divine.
Where peace and harmony exist,
and all I wish is mine.
All nations tolerate beliefs
and use them to be just,
And children live in loving homes,
and grow up learning trust.
I’ll drink to that, not just today – each day that I’m alive.
I’ll drink to that with you my friend.
That way our world will thrive.
We're huddled on this gum tree branch, my brother chick and I.
It's time to leave our tangled nest . We know we have to fly.
But flying's not what we do best. We'd rather look around
For any tasty morsels that we see upon the ground.
Watching, ever watching, staying still as I can be.
This tawny frogmouth sees you well, but you will not see me.
For camouflage is what I do, by dusk and light of day.
I calmly sit upon a limb to watch the insects play. Fat insects are my staple diet. They make a juicy treat.
I'm ‘carnivore' you see, so moths and beetles are my meat.
I'm perched upon a low tree branch and looking just like wood.
With feathers tawny-speckled, my disguise is awfully good. You'll walk beside my branch and never know that I am there.
But frogs and crickets, rats and mice - I'm warning you – beware.
My yellow eyes see in the dark to find the meal I seek.
And I can drop without a sound to crunch you with my beak. My call is like a drum beat, you can hear it far and wide.
I need not fear, for nature's gift has coloured me to hide,
Though dogs and cats will sometimes give me quite a nasty fright,
And flying after moths may catch me in your car's head-light.
One day we'll find a mate for life, by brother bird and I
And then it will become our turn to make a nest, and fly
To seek the food to feed our chicks and hatch them in our care.
We tawny frogmouths are unique – ‘the bird that isn't there'.
They stood inside the garden in Australia Zoo that day
The most beautiful of gardens where the crocodillies play.
They had come in many thousands, looking on with tears in eye.
As the heroes of the moment both descended from the sky.
In the clouds they saw the image of Steve Irwin on his croc.
And beside him in his race car was a youthful Peter Brock.
Dressed in racing gear resplendent, Peter Perfect to a T.
And they heard Steve blurt out ‘Crikey, have you come to visit me?’
‘I remember I was swimming with the fish upon the reef.
My surroundings were amazing, such a scene defied belief.
We had cameras and were filming for my gorgeous Bindi child.
For her show she wanted images of creatures swimming wild.’
‘Then a sting ray flew towards me with his wings outspread and wide.
I was mesmerized with magic as I came up to his side.
Then I swam above him slowly just to get a better view.
But he must have been quite startled. That was the last I knew.’
‘Though I’m the brave Croc Hunter, I am jelly fish inside.
I am Bob and Bindy’s daddy and the day I died I cried.
For the parting took more courage than my wrestling with the crocs,
Catching snakes and spiders hiding in the crevasses and rocks.’
‘Now I’m here with Peter Perfect, not with Terri and the kids,
And I sure will miss them badly – they’re the greatest billy lids.
I will stay beside them always, though they won’t know I am there.
As they grow up and they prosper they will know that I still care.’
‘I was born near Brocky’s birthday February 22.
Just four days before his big day, quite coincidental too,
As I died four days before him in a freak of fate quite strange.
If I’d wanted a companion no-one better I’d arrange.’
‘For Brock's a national hero, always striving for the best.
He was called King of the Mountain; he was faster than the rest.
With ten victories at Bathurst his Brock Special was his brand,
And his name will be remembered through our great Australian land.’
‘And like me, the King was having fun the day he left the earth,
At a rally in his coupe somewhere not too far from Perth.
When he slid across the wet road and he failed to miss a tree.
I was watching from my cloud and saw him drifting up to me.’
‘Oh Crikey Brock, and welcome. It is not so bad up here.
You’ll be pleased to know we’ll never age, and I’ve brought Aussie beer.
We can keep an eye on all so that they do just what they ought,
Looking after all the animals and racing motor sport.’
‘It was time to pull our number on September 4 and 8.
Now St Peter is awaiting at the shining pearly gate.
And I bet we’re both admitted to the heavenly realm above
As there’s thousands in this garden who are showing us their love.’
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