Uncle Roy.

[Duncan Williams.]

Uncle Roy.

He lived with us at Tamworth,
When i was just a boy,
A real old-time War Veteran,
We called him Uncle Roy.
He slept out on the verandah,
His smokes and resches beer,
He kept mainly to himself,
And never showed much fear.
He spent some time in Sydney,
And Havelock Street Mayfield,
Loved to play a game of cards,
Could shuffle or could deal.
A joke we had with Uncle Roy,
With a dose of Epsom Salts,
And when the salts had taken course,
Roy jumps up and bolts.
Now Uncle Roy is now at rest,
He smoked up to the last,
The cancer took old uncles life,
Was a gentleman of the past.
And often times i think of him,
He was liked by everyone,
If Uncle Roy was still around,
There would be some fun.




Duncan Williams.

[Kilravock]

I really like the poems earthiness. You put me in mind of that one poet that wrote the song "Waltzin' Matilda"; Banjo something. The poem seemed dirty and dusty; which is a really good texture for new South Wales. If this was a memorial, you have my prayers and condolences, May GOD bless you.

[kozmikdave]

Gidday Duncan

Had a nice feel about much of this. You let it get away from you a bit with the rhythm, and in a couple of places, the rhyming was pretty self-conscious. It made it a little harder for the reader.

Why don't you try to write a poem without using rhyme? It helps to get all the thoughts out in the right order.

Kilravock noticed the similarity to A B Paterson which is a strength in your poetry.