(another rhapsodic and poetic offering from GOF)
Top secret location in Wooroonooran national Park.
Enchanting trickles wayside rill,
Bubbling merrily down the hill.
Joyful gurgling, Spring’s rebirth.
Quenching thirst of Mother Earth.
This place to sit and contemplate.
To be, or deeply meditate.
I linga longa than I orta.
Here flows beer instead of water.
* * * * * * * * *
You draw them in with the first and bring it home at the end!
Thank you Lily……I apologise for the waste of your time reading it which could have been spent more productively.
Pfft. BS takes time to appreciate and savor.
And I can confirm that bullshit often takes a very long time to compose and fine tune. The bull needs to digest the right ingredients first, then regurgitate it and chew it’s cud, then swallow it again for a few hours before it eventually plops out into a public place for all to see.
Oh shit, here I go again.
Right!
Hohoho!!
The Poet Laureate of Australia.
Who’s that?
(On further consideration……priceless addition to my blog GOM…..you made the statement…accompanied by the photograph of the young future Poet Laureate of Australia. Better start organising your immigration papers soon my friend…..and fine tuning your poetry.
Shoulda spelled it “watra.”
Or “worta”
Yes, I’m not going to achieve Poet Laureate status if I don’t smarten up my spalling.
We don’t want readers to think that I only spent a couple of minutes on this work of genius.
Thank you for your corrective gift Kim.
Oh, “worta,” DEFINITELY.
We used to live near a lovely little creak that foamed like that. We called it “Beer Creek” — but we never sampled. We brought our own.
Very wise Elyse, you never know what intestinal parasites live in froth like that.
LOL – love it! I hope you weren’t affected by the bad weather yesterday.
Thanks Emjay….we had the effects of the ex-cyclone last week…after that it’s been wreaking havoc on all coastal points down to the Gold Coast. (Even tornadoes yesterday near Bundaberg)