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Array ( [sid] => 40152 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => The Little Shack [time] => 2004-03-25 01:47:25 [hometext] => a ballad or a poem [bodytext] => I ride my white pony through the mountains
And see the beauty that surrounds me
Across the hills and a hidden dell
The smoke from a wood fire I can smell.

A wattle camp stands by a little stream
And the sunlight gives it a golden sheen
There’s Grandma with Granddad chopping wood
To hold them again I wish I surely could.

I see smoke rising up from a chimney
And see Grandma, her smile still a brimming
Gold was the love of a man and wife
Simplicity was their way of life.

These are my early childhood memories
Of my Grandma’s shack nestled within the trees
Upon the Great Dividing Range
Looking back the memory now seems strange.

Grandma’s shack no longer does it stand there
When last I saw her she had silver greying hair
And now I only have my memories
Of that little shack sheltered by those trees.

And I wish that I could have it all back
Those times I missed while out upon the track
But I feel they’re somehow still here by me
Like when we lived and laughed within those wattle trees.

Time alone has never really harmed her
Nor has my mind abandoned or forgot her
Nor her man that stood there by her side
As they lowered her, I said my last goodbye
But I wouldn’t let myself cry.
***
Why is it men mustn’t ever cry?
[comments] => 6 [counter] => 178 [topic] => 52 [informant] => twinkletoes [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 0 [associated] => [topicname] => goodbyepoetry )

The Little Shack

Contributed by twinkletoes on Thursday, 25th March 2004 @ 01:47:25 AM in AEST
Topic: goodbyepoetry

I ride my white pony through the mountains
And see the beauty that surrounds me
Across the hills and a hidden dell
The smoke from a wood fire I can smell.

A wattle camp stands by a little stream
And the sunlight gives it a golden sheen
There’s Grandma with Granddad chopping wood
To hold them again I wish I surely could.

I see smoke rising up from a chimney
And see Grandma, her smile still a brimming
Gold was the love of a man and wife
Simplicity was their way of life.

These are my early childhood memories
Of my Grandma’s shack nestled within the trees
Upon the Great Dividing Range
Looking back the memory now seems strange.

Grandma’s shack no longer does it stand there
When last I saw her she had silver greying hair
And now I only have my memories
Of that little shack sheltered by those trees.

And I wish that I could have it all back
Those times I missed while out upon the track
But I feel they’re somehow still here by me
Like when we lived and laughed within those wattle trees.

Time alone has never really harmed her
Nor has my mind abandoned or forgot her
Nor her man that stood there by her side
As they lowered her, I said my last goodbye
But I wouldn’t let myself cry.
***
Why is it men mustn’t ever cry?

Copyright Â© twinkletoes ... [ 2004-03-25 01:47:25]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: The Little Shack (User Rating: 1 )
by Former_Member on Thursday, 25th March 2004 @ 01:59:28 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

Why is that? I have always wondered. Shame, it would sure release a lot of pent up emotions. I miss my grandparents like that. But I feel them with me al the time. One of my guiding spirits is my maternal grandmother. They are always with us, twink. This is a beautiful write.

Rita

Re: The Little Shack (User Rating: 1 )
by ladyfawn on Thursday, 25th March 2004 @ 02:08:23 AM AEST
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ohhh this is charming, memories of my grandparents are all warm and fuzzy in my heart, they were elmer and emily, they raised me, there are none like them is there? we lived in an orchard, i cant say enough about how warm this poem is, i loved every line, its written with so much love, and you know, they do watch over us, and yours are smilin' today:) hugs n' love nessa

@->>->-

Re: The Little Shack (User Rating: 1 )
by Former_Member on Thursday, 25th March 2004 @ 02:12:30 AM AEST
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Why is it men mustn’t ever cry?
This is so true it must be genetic or something 'cause as soon as i'm upset i do my best not to show it, never show your hand my father used to say! maybe that's it, it's partly genetic and partly we're conditioned that way, anyway on to the point another good write in an idealic setting.

wildejohnny.

Re: The Little Shack (User Rating: 1 )
by venkat on Thursday, 25th March 2004 @ 02:15:15 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

Wonderful memries of the days which you spent with your grand mother..very humane ..
beautifully done. venkat

Re: The Little Shack (User Rating: 1 )
by ginsdance on Thursday, 25th March 2004 @ 02:40:49 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

Beautiful. I don't understand why men can't cry... a little when they are really upset. Because surely they feel the same things that we girls do when we get upset at the world. Sometimes a good cleansing cry while alone in a room is all a person really needs. I think men don't cry because society always wants them to be the tough guys. But I don't think really its fair for men to have to be the strong ones all the time, do you? Beautiful write about your past. Its the memories that keep us going as we age.

Ginsdance
(Jen)

Re: The Little Shack (User Rating: 1 )
by DreamWeaver on Friday, 26th March 2004 @ 11:52:59 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

Twinkles, you have a heart of gold ... and I'm blessed that I have seen tears in your eyes ... this is a beautiful, heartfelt write ... Jan

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