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Joe White
126 followers -
I was born on the Ides of March, 1953 in Mount Isa, QLD. My parents separated when I was 3 or 4. My mother took my sister and I and left us to be raised by our grand-parents. They lived in a no horse place called Pinnacle, in the Pioneer Valley west of Mackay; cane farming folk who lamented the seasons and world sugar prices. My grand-father handed the farm over to his son and we moved into 'town' on the very day JFK got shot. Cancer took my grand-mother in 1968. The next year the Navy took me. I went to sea as an electrician, flopped around the ocean for twenty years, and in brief moments in between the duty, got married, became the father of three children, bought our first home in Marayong, Sydney, and had beers while I bar-b-cued. The kids grew up, the houses they changed, said goodbye to the sun said goodbye to the brine, swapped beer that I drunk for bottles of wine ............
I was born on the Ides of March, 1953 in Mount Isa, QLD. My parents separated when I was 3 or 4. My mother took my sister and I and left us to be raised by our grand-parents. They lived in a no horse place called Pinnacle, in the Pioneer Valley west of Mackay; cane farming folk who lamented the seasons and world sugar prices. My grand-father handed the farm over to his son and we moved into 'town' on the very day JFK got shot. Cancer took my grand-mother in 1968. The next year the Navy took me. I went to sea as an electrician, flopped around the ocean for twenty years, and in brief moments in between the duty, got married, became the father of three children, bought our first home in Marayong, Sydney, and had beers while I bar-b-cued. The kids grew up, the houses they changed, said goodbye to the sun said goodbye to the brine, swapped beer that I drunk for bottles of wine ............

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Joe's posts

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Robert Gray - Sketch of the Harbour.
I find myself reaching for a copy of Robert Gray whenever
I want to immerse myself in the beauty of a remembered scene or location.   Robert Gray can do that for me – his perfect
descriptive lines take me to places I have been and seen and trigger physical
...

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Cyril Tawney - I Was Walking Through the Dockyard in a Panic
Another Anzac day, and I sunk a few
schooners with Lofty, Jim and Bob down at the Swansea RSL.   We crapped on about how we were mistreated at
Nirimba and we recounted all the mean pricks we had ever come across in the
Navy – remember Lefty Mort, or was it ...

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ANZAC day 2015 - Wilfred Owen; Siegfried Sassoon
Into April and almost ANZAC day once more – an
Australian remembrance of the blunder at Gallipoli and how the Turks kicked our
arses all the way back to Bondi.   Oh
alright then, it’s a celebration of historic events that defined us for who we
are as a nati...

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Judith Wright - Eve to Her Daughters (Easter)
As
we prepare to celebrate Easter once more, my thoughts lead me in search of
poetry that might express spiritual mystery, meaning of life.   But I like a poem that’s not too ‘heavy’,
easy to read, and maybe entertaining with a bit of humour.   That’s why I...

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Rosemary Dobson - The Sailor
Back
in the Navy, you knew when disenchantment was beginning to set in on a fellow
shipmate – usually the bloke with a few years under his belt.   He would withdraw to his bunk of a night to
do a bit of reading.   Nothing unusual about
that, except up until...

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Bukowski - betting on the muse
Do
you believe in fate; do you believe you structure your own destiny by what you
put out from your mind?   I’ve got to tell
you, these last couple of months, my life has gone wham, bang, big change
buddy!   There I was withering away safe in
a secure, dead...

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Alan Kaufman - Across the Mississippi
I will never forget the first time I saw the
Mississippi River.   It was at night.   Me and Bobby Lynch were at Great Lakes Naval Centre,
Chicago, doing equipment training for the FFG7.   We had a couple of days in between courses, so without telling our
Di...

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Emily Dickinson - Lives Like Loaded Guns
My son bought me a Kindle reader some time
ago and I freely admit, the battery life on that tablet has never been over-stretched
or extended anywhere near melt-down.   I’m
sorry, but there’re far too many reasons why I stay back with my beautiful hard
print...

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Robert Gray - Haiku style
The once only time that I have posted our
Australian poet Robert Gray (you remember, Salvation
Army Hostel , back in June 2013), belies how much I truly love and admire
this guy’s work.   I have this thing where
if I love something, I try not to revisit it ...

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Yusef Komunyakaa - Hanoi Hannah
I take my poetry before I take my music.   I will follow a poet before I follow a
musician.   For me, poetry is more capable
of a linguistic rhythm, a natural expression of speech, an attempt to express
the human spirit.   I don’t always get that
from song ...
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