"Come In Spinner" Winners Board: January to November 2011

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"Come In Spinner" Winners Board: January to November 2011

Post by godfather » 08 Nov 2011, 20:55

Here are all the winners for our Poetry Competitions:

January ......Aung San Suu Kyi .............by Badger
February......Little Miss Springtime .......by Margaret Williams
March.........In Like Flynn ..................by Maureen Clifford

No competitions during April to August 2011

September...Old Bill .........................by Bob Pacey
October.......A Small Poem..................by Dawn
October.......Flash Jack.....................by Bob Pacey
November....The Smoke Stack..............by Bob Pacey
And these were the entries of the "COME IN SPINNER" competitions for 2011 and the winner was the poem with the most points:

by Hawkeye - CASHING IN (20 pts)

I cashed in those jars of pennies and those tiny tins of silver coins.
Not as much as I'd hoped for but more than I thought I had.
Only three hundred and eighteen dollars but for loose change
you've got to admit, that ain't bad.
So maybe I'll start over and see what I can do,
till the Great Reaper drops by
and says, 'Old man you're through.'
Then some family member will go through my wallet.
There they'll surely find that fourteen hundred dollars
where time and again I've traded coins for hundred dollar bills.
Will no doubt exclaim, old Bill surely had a touch of the Scot in him
May he RIP.

by Bob Pacey - OLD BILL (28 pts) Winner!

Oh, your mane may be in tatters
and your coat a shaggy grey.
You can see a hint of stagger in your gait.
Yes, we've seen the years fly by Bill
throughout the good times and the bad
but you're more than just a stock horse, you're my mate.

All those years of droving stock Bill.
Oh how the time has flown.
I'd swear you were a colt just yesterday.
I remember when I picked you
from that wild-eyed brumby mob.
By gees you were a good'en in your day.

Wheeling cattle round the stock camp
while the rain came tumbling down.
Chasing wild back country scrubbers with old Jack.
There was not a horse could beat you
When a mob had took to flight
I remember how we brought that baldy back.

At cutting steers around the yards Bill
there was ne'er better horse than you.
You were not the one to root or buck or stamp.
Holding cleanskins down for branding, sorting pikers from the mob
Or riding night watch around a dark and rainy camp.

And when I broke my leg at " Shanghai "
trying to catch that brumby roan -
a pitch black night without a moon or lamp.
I never would have made it without you at my side.
You carried me for miles back to our camp.

Now the years have taken toll Bill.
The long paddock beckons still,
but you've done your watch and now's your time to rest.
Let your final years pass slowly
where the sweetest grasses grow.
In my memory Bill you'll always be the best.

So graze down by the river, rest quietly in the shade.
Wander slowly on the flats down by the bend.
Our droving days are over
but I'll always be there with you Bill.
You're more than just a stockhorse
you're my friend.

by Dusty - WHY NOT (21 pts)

Write a poem you say, and I say why not? It keeps the brain from rotting,
As I concentrate on rhyming words I don't feel my Rhumatiz knotting.

As I strain to write another verse to amuse, delight and excite us
I completely forget that my Doctor once said you’ve got Diverticulitis

My hernia, migraine and sinus get shoved to the back and my chilblains don't hurt when I write
As I rattle off my rhyming slang, I forget my sandy blight.

And now, as I ponder what next I can write, my every nerve is Hopin'
that I'll think of something pretty soon, while my weary eyes are still open.

And if by chance I should end this rot, while my ancient bones can support us.
Please Dear Lord let me finish it soon, cos I'm close to rigor mortis

by Maggie - LEAH (23 pts)

I call her my Beauty
Nanna, what is beauty? She asked.

So I told her...........

It’s sunshine and laughter; it’s happiness after.
It’s sharing and caring; it’s boldness and daring.
It’s knowing that sunshine will follow the rain
and if you fall over you’ll get up again.
It’s sometimes you’ll cry, but after your tears
a comforting shoulder will banish your fears.

It’s Christmas with tinsel and lights on the tree.
It’s picnic and parties and trips to the sea.
It’s startings and endings, borrowing and lending.
It’s doing and being and hearing and seeing.
It’s telling and showing and feeling and knowing.
It’s searching and finding, hurting and minding.
It’s all of these things and many things more,
but for me it it’s your smile as you come through my door.

LEAH is now the Mother of my Great Grandson and is still My Beauty.

by Mahalia- ACQUAINTED WITH THE NIGHT (21 pts)

Beneath the fluorescent kaleidoscope of neon signs
he patrolled his beat – silent, determined.
Few would test his mettle. He was fast of foot,
ideally suited to the job and loved a challenge.

He blended into the shadows,
keeping a wary eye on the nearby bus stop.
Hearing the rustle of night time couplings
as shadowy figures waited for the
restless dawn and buses.

Eastbound delays not withstanding
his shift ended at seven,
but for now the night watchman watched -
and idly scratched at an annoying flea.

by Dusty - ODE TO CENTRELINK (22 pts)

I made a call to Centrelink to ask about my pension,
to spend two hours on the phone was never my intention.

But there I sat, my arm asleep, and my poor old ear gone numb,
and soon I'll check to see if I’ve got bedsores on me bum.

They have already read me the menu, the number I chose was five ,
but it's been so long ,I will have to ask am I still bloomin' well alive.

Perhaps it is all a government plot, to keep me hanging on,
until the life has drained out of me, and my mortal soul has gone.

Well it’s not gunna work I’ll hang onto this phone, I'm strong determined and brave
And if I bloody well have too, I will take this phone to me grave.

by Dusty - THE COACH DRIVER (22 pts)

The coach rolls on, across the bridge
the driver is one of the best.
The road is rough, and the weather wild
he wants to get home to his wife and child
so his horses are put to the test.

He thinks of the miles he has travelled
and the miles that he still has to go.
He must service the mines,
get the mail through on time
he can’t let his weariness show.

He’ll defy all the odds and get on with the job.
Nick has never been known to be tardy.
He’ll deliver the goods ,
Everything will be fine
he’ll get through, he’s the best, and he’s hardy .

His customers wait at the door or the gate
Nick should have been here hours ago.
If he’s not here by dawn
we’ll send someone down
in case something has laid him low .

But their wait is in vain, for the wild wind and the rain
washed the road down the side of the hill.
As they rounded the bend
a tree lay on the road
and the team took a terrible spill.

Two days later they found where Nick lay on the ground.
Never more would he bring the mail home.
And his Mary would weep
for her man, now asleep
as she carried on, living alone.
A Tribute to my Great Grandfather Nicholas Hollensen passed in a coach accident December 1891


by Mahalia - VAL'S HOLIDAY (13 pts)

They’d gone to Melbourne for their holidays, as so very many do
and were busy doing all the tourist things,
when they came upon a display of a sport that’s somewhat new
and Val decided she would perhaps try her wings.
it didn’t look too difficult, she felt no thrill of fear.
she’d studied the instructions right enough;
so thinking once she’d got on it, she’d put it into gear.
she climbed on board prepared to strut her stuff.

The snowboard , weight related, took off like a bucking bull
with Val hanging on like grim death for the ride.
She never made eight seconds, before it threw her off,
and she never had a chance to yell - ‘outside’.

She landed in a heap at a most surprised husbands feet
and a lot of things were hurt not least her pride.
as she struggled for composure and to get back on her toes
it was obvious that something broke inside.

So Val flew back to Brisbane with pain killers to lessen
the nagging ache she felt in hip and thigh.
For appears her hip was broken, her snowboarding memory token
and to the mile high club she’d not aspire.

So was a lesson taught to our ad-ven-turous sport?
Will she give thought if opportunity should arise?
To once again try her prowess, whilst setting out to wow us
with things that if not careful may cause her early demise.

If she’s into racing or rowing, pole vaulting or thong throwing
it would pay to not throw caution to the skies.
Should she fancy target shooting or some parachute commuting
it is safer if you do not close your eyes.

So Val be not afraid, or god forbid dismayed,
for they say if nothing’s ventured, nothing’s gained.
But the next time you’re away, perhaps you might find it pays
to try and act a trifle more restrained.

by Dawn - A SMALL POEM (14 pts) Equal winner.

There are some small words
That echo down the long years
Very loudly

by Bob Pacey - FLASH JACK (14 pts) Equal winner.

He was known throughout the outback as Flash Jack from Mungandi
he always had a smiling face and a twinkle in his eye.
Around the local racetracks he was never seen to scowl
but to make an easy dollar, he was forever on the prowl.

The race day out at Ridgelands was the place to try your luck,
so Jack had brought his best nag in to try to make a buck.
His horse was in the main race and Jack had backed it in
and with dope had laced some sugar cubes, to make sure of the win.

Jack slipped one to his runner and was going to give him two
he almost had a heart attack as the Chief Steward came in view.
“What’s that you’re feeding to that horse”? The Chief Steward demanded
“Sugar just to calm him down” Jack calmly then responded.

Then to allay the Stewards fears, Jack popped one in his mouth to eat
“Well give me one” the Steward said, “I’ve got a tooth that’s sweet“.
Finding nothing was amiss he then walked down to take his place.
While Jack saddled up his pride and joy all ready for the race.

Jacks jockey climbed onto his mount then checked every strap and clip
“Give him his head” Jack told him, “and don’t try to use the whip“.
“But if something heads us in the straight the whip will jump him free”
“Don’t worry” Jack advised him, “It will only be the steward - or me”!

by Mahalia - BABY CAKES (13 pts)

A babies tiny feet
have yet to tread the pathway
of life and living.
The devil whispered, “You cannot withstand the storm“ and I replied: “I am the storm!”.....Unknown.