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Tobacco There

Submitted by Poets Hand on Sat, 2023-02-11 02:56

In a lounge-room bare to floorboard,
Not a sofa, desk nor door,
Squats old Mick the full-time loafer,
Rolling fags above the floor.

There's a pile of sad tobacco,
(as he shakes a bit, old Mick),
And he speaks in short staccato voice,
of the thin life and the thick.

He has seen a life-tide pass him,
He has been to towns gone bust,
Now he lives to roll tobacco,
(and to spill some in the dust).

When I asked him "Did he ever?"
O' course the answer always was,
That he'd done it very clever,
and was never caught because,

Those days there were things written,
Not in paint nor printed ink,
But upon the hearts of fellow men,
Who forgave before they think.

And I sat and watched him quiet,
As he rolled another smoke,
And though he spilled more weed than pummeled,
Ignored it as he spoke.

Said, "I've lived a lifetime fully,
knew your Dad before the war..."
(As he rolled and shook a little
more tobacco on the floor).

Then a long and dreadful silence,
Carried Mick away to sleep,
As though an old and worn alliance,
With his breath he couldn't keep.

And a slumber hard as droving,
Called his soul away by name,
From the boundary of his lifespan,
To the Stockman's Hall of Fame.

I turn now; misty, from my window,
People grieve as people must,
And there to stir a hollow mem'ry,
Is tobacco in the dust.

And where he sat I guess I fancy,
In a vision grand to bear,
A ghostly stockman making rollies,
from tobacco scattered there.

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Editing stage: 
Editing - polished draft
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content

Comments

Alex Tanner

Sat, 2023-02-11 04:48

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I can relate to this, When I was a teen we had an old boy, Frank, who sat in the pub, just like Mick, Tobacco all over the place while he related his life and taught us dirty songs. Very evocative. Alex

Poets Hand

Sat, 2023-02-11 15:17

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Thanks Alex, I guess there is an Old Mick in every town who relates to somebody there.
Thanks for the comments and your time.
Poets Hand
Hannah

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Candlewitch

Sat, 2023-02-11 05:41

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*fags are cigarettes, right? that sounds so cool! here in USA, we have some real neanderthal types who call people who prefer persons of their own sex for romance fags. and rolling them would be a sick kick!
* we much enjoyed your poem. I knew a man like Mick, only his name was Phil. he had hiss own place at the counter. we would gather round to hear Phil's stories. he seemed to know a bit about everything. we loved listening to his wisdom. one day, Phil came to his place no more. he had passed way in his sleep. I still miss him and his life stories.

*hugs, Cat & eddy styx

*
When someone reads your work
And responds, please be courteous
And reply in kind, thanks.

Poets Hand

Sat, 2023-02-11 15:25

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Dear Cat, Yes "fags" are cigarettes here in Australia. I am glad that this poem returned memories of Phil for you but I hope they are only good ones cherished as mine are for Mick.
Thanks for the comment and sharing.
Poets Hand
Hannah

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Rosewood Apothecary

Sun, 2023-02-12 14:09

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Neanderthals existed in Europe for 2 million years. By comparison modern Homo sapiens only appeared about 130,000 years ago and are at the brink of extinction. What’s more…Neanderthals never went extinct. Instead they interbred with Homo sapiens migrating out of Africa and formed the DNA structure most people of European descent still carry today.

Nah these homophobes, it’s to kind to call them Neanderthals. I wonder what it’s like to amble through life never having read a single book. Idiots.

Lol
Tim

Poets Hand

Sat, 2023-02-11 15:36

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Thanks Alan for taking the time to respond to this poem. You certainly know your poetic Grammar and I do take suggestions on board. However I don't know whether the poem is better or worse for having/not having the stressed syllable at this point in the poem.. I will put it in to keep things neat and thank you for the tip.

Poets Hand
Hannah

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RoseBlack

Sat, 2023-02-11 14:20

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I think we have all experienced an older person in our lives who made a lasting impression. I love the honesty in this. What a great story!! Well done!

~RoseBlack~

Poets Hand

Sat, 2023-02-11 15:39

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Thank you. Your comments are always so kind. Old Mick seems to have doppelgangers everywhere.

Thanks for your comments.
Poets Hand
Hannah

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Rosewood Apothecary

Sun, 2023-02-12 14:02

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This thing is dynamite. Absolutely freaking beautiful meter and wording. Impeccable timing. Endearing theme. This is your finest post to date. Just a total joyride of bittersweet nostalgia and life well lived.

I adore this poem sir,
Tim

Seren

Fri, 2023-02-17 03:17

Seren's picture

A few years ago an old friend turned up on my door and he always sat on the floor rolling smokes. He was homeless pretty much half of his life. He worked on cattle stations and funnily enough he had connections up where you live. His nickname was Jafo. He lived with me for 12mths and he put on weight and he looked healthy and clean and had a bed for the first time in years. But his thirst to wander overtook and off he went after Christmas, he was a ringer. Just before the next Christmas we found out he had Cancer, the killing kind. He'd probably had it when he lived with me. And on New Years in Bathurst, his family gathered. We all wanted to be there but I stayed home to care for his siblings critters etc so they could stop, drop and go. I was in constant contact with them and knew as the NY was being brung in we lost him at 12.04am 01.01. Sidenote, four years later on NYE to the exact minute my granddaughter Abby was born. Everytime I think of it, it gives me goosebumps.

I adore your poem it brings back both the sadness and feelings joy. I remember I posted a poem when they were all racing to be with him at the end. For Jafo or To Jafo. It's an older poem.

You're a naturally gifted storyteller. I love how you share our culture with the rest of the world, you are describing things I've lived with and experienced, you're a bright shining light. IMHO.

Bravo Cobber ;)

Love Jayne xox

“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” — W.B. Yeats

Poets Hand

Fri, 2023-02-17 05:26

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Thank you for the lovely story about Jafo. Thank you also for the vote of confidence and compliments you pass on to me. When I wrote the poem of Old Mick I was unaware of just how many people lived the same way. He was an endearing old soul who only spoke in monosyllables. He was a gentle man and we as children never felt threatened by him. He was funny too.
I have fond memories of him rolling his cigarettes as you obviously have for Jafo. May they rest in peace.

Thank you once again
Poets Hand
Hannah

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