![]() 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 Poemsby Diane de St Hilaire Simmonds (C)
A DREAMTIME WISH 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. UNITY 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 AM AUSTRALIAN 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. 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. THE AUSSIE SPIRIT 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.
CHRISTMAS STAR 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. AUTUMNFrom 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 byRae Desmond Jones (c) 2013Click 'Next' below.
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