horses buggy
Do you have old photographs that might be helpful to this site?
Please email the author, Diane Simmonds, by clicking here:
Or, phone 02 63722189bsp;
Or, phone 02 63722189
The author may be able to restore your photographs in return for use on this site.

(Photos on this site are produced for web use only at low resolution.)

A selection of Dreamtime Poems


Diane  de St Hilaire  Simmonds (C)


The Reconciliation Poems of One Spirit on this page are copyright (c). If you wish to use any of the poems, please contact the author: for written permission.




Black spirits dance across the plains

a strange Corroboree

and dusty willy-willies

sigh a Dreamtime wish for me.

My soul feels so united

with this land and with its soil

and my heart just swells with music;

makes my anguish disembroil.

The peace of velvet night skies;

Southern Cross; The Milky Way:

symbolic stars of harmony

and union, within lay.

And I hear a Dreamtime whisper

as a song sighs through heat haze

to the throb of dusty dancing

as Corroborees mime plays

to pass on the ancient legends

of a mystic unity

of land; creation; spirit,

for unique souls who are free

to be different; individual,

yet united and as one -

not just with neighbouring brothers

but with water, earth and sun.

My spirit captures legends

of those ancient orange sands,

though grandparents were not born here -

yes, they came from foreign lands -

but my soul's conceived in folklore

and my heart's a southern myth

that lingers round the gum trees

and Blue Mountain caves as if

way back there in ancient Dreamtime

when the earth was formed as one,

I played with dusty brothers

when our dreams had just begun.

Now my hopes and dreams aren't mystic -

they're here now; for time to come:

that though unique we may be,

united destiny we've won.




 Fifty million years ago

I lived...

in desert reds

and healing streams,

in blue gum mists and mountain greens

and olives

dancing in my breath.

You think of me and think of death

and yet I live.

My passion moves, creating free

the white men, aborigine.

You think you're different, who believe?

You're part of me and I retrieve

the right to make you black or white,

like seas and deserts, day and night.

I've made you whole at last.

My life's spaced through eternity,

rained in the rivers, flowed to the sea,

then risen in ethereal clouds

that rain fertility

and twitch the brolgas dancing feet,

delighting all who come and meet

me in my death again.

You think I'm dead.   I live!

See in that ochre desert rock

the finest atom sit and mock

those who proclaim to 'own' me,

like a slave.

The plus and minus I have made

to make a whole.

When your three score years and ten

have ended, like the rest of men

and you join me in rocks and trees,

breath fondles olive silver leaves,

and house a wedge tail in your arms,

soar in warm currents over farms

and ancient burial grounds...

you'll laugh...

you're one with me, you're one!





 I search my soul, my mind and conscientiousness

to know where I belong,

explore my love, my life and  loyalties,

find out my hearts true song.

My spirit wanders through the desert lands,

seeking refreshing streams

and somewhere near and somewhere long ago,

my 'self' is made in dreams.


Beside a billabong at night,

a stranger walks

about who might,

be your or I,

a kindred quest,

do we belong

as clan, or guest?

I am white woman, young and beautiful,

my babe has skin dark brown,

my mate's exotic, mix of everywhere,

 no more a remnant of the crown.

Exiled, banished, because of poverty,

scandal, politics, and sin

I've  died and risen, sought asylum

revived my spirit, fresh ideals to win.


Upon my soul

lands'  spirit's born.

Within my heart

earth's early morn

awakes my youth,

and claims my years,

it holds  my joy,

soothes all my tears.


I'm born of dust of beaches, deserts,

Australian through and through,

with  respect to our unique Dreamtime -

creations' God in me and you.

I have no love or quest for other lands

for here I now belong

My soul was born on craggy mountaintops

It sings a desert song.


From dust I came,

 to dust degenerate -

maybe red ochre,

white sand, black loam.

In unity

with earth and heaven,

in truth I call

Australia  home.





Long long ago in Dreamtime

Creation's Spirit breathed

over waters, lands and skyways:

a Southland was conceived.

The sun's warm rays touched rocks and trees;

clouds rained fertility;

the Spirit breathed into mankind

its own soul; mystique; free.

The Spirit danced from man to man

like willies on the sands;

breathed laughter into kookas;

skipped in brolga's swampy lands.

The Dreamtime Spirit romped and played

with all beneath the sun

and human heartbeats whispered

an understanding:  all are one.

We mock now our origins;

forget our unity.

We think the holy dollar

is the way to set us free.

We rape our land and prostitute

the mother of mankind;

sell coastlines to exploiters;

to ecology are blind.

We think we have a need for jobs

handed on a silver platter;

forget that we're Creation's sons:

our spirit doesn't matter.

As long as dollars line our palms

we forget we're meant to be

fruitful;  multiplying

with the land and with the sea.

So Aussie mates, please listen.

With your hearts meet with your soil.

Take one good look at nature

and you'll understand and toil.

Wrestle with your gods within

which is dominant to be:

the one who binds your fate to gold,

or the One who sets you free

to work with our great Southland

in creative; fruitful dreams.

Let your spirit dance;  imagine

man and nature wedded themes.





In a humpy camped on orange sands

beside a billabong;

clacking sticks and didgeridoo

throb out a mystic song

of love:

a Dreamtime song of love,

where man and spirit,

earth and sky

are one.


In a humble farmer's cottage

on sun parched paddocks brown,

a family sing carols

with a hushed and sacred sound,

of love:

the Christ Child's song of love:

how man and spirit,

earth and heaven

are one.


In a velvet canopy above,

Christmas stars shine down so bright.

Southern Cross becomes the symbol

to my children: black and white -

of love:

eternal song of love:

where men on earth are one.

By a cross of true forgiveness,

all are one.





From dust I came

surealist realm of ochre rocks and blue tipped limbs

ancient music throbs  my veins

I am earth and sea and sky

From the rivers I came

flowing, peaceful, 

laughing with pebbles on shallow days

deep, turbulant, searching:  my moody days.

My still blue skies in autumn hushed

bar the sun clipping the tips of magpie bell chimes

ringing across mellow breezes

whispering in the ear of ghostly gums stretching,

lazy in the noonday sun.

I am dust

as I sit and ponder

bereft of soul

for my soul is dancing in the wind with butterflies,

my soul is flashing silver backed gum leaves

in the sun

my soul is singing and sighing in river caves;

turning blue in ethereal eucalyptus gases

It is autumn

and I am dust.




A Dreamtime Poem by

Rae Desmond Jones (c) 2013

Click 'Next' below.




Previous |  Content |  Next

Would you like to advertise on this site?

Contact the administrator now!

Support your history.

Click Here: