The Porcupine

[north-north-west]

OK corby, you remember that old proverb 'be careful what you ask for, because you might get it'? Well, you asked so suck it up:

SONG OF THE PORCUPINE (Mountain Music for the Terminally Deaf)

Stark against the summer sky
In silence, snowgums stand,
By fire frozen into bone,
Burned white by winter's brand.

Billy Buttons shrill beneath
Of youth and green-gold glory;
Slow, lichen chants on weathered rock
The deeper, older story;

Mintbush carols high and clear
The season's sweetest pleasures;
Orchids murmur soft and low
It's subtle unseen treasures;

Many-coloured Daisies
Harmonise and join the throng;
Join the Eyebright's gentle lilting;
Join the Trigger's strident song;

Join the humming of the mosses;
Join the steady droning beat,
The endless rolling rhythm
Of the Snowgrass underfeet.

Everlasting, everchanging,
But the music's halting now -
Tones of green and cream are missing,
With a scent, a stir of bough -

For the snowgums have been silenced,
And long years must turn 'til eyes
Hear once again their ragged voices
Raised against the summer skies.

[WarrenH]

Scavenger, the Porcupine ... under "the summer skies."




The Porcupine on the Ramshead Range. The valley is the Thredbo River Valley. The spurs in the distance (L-R) are Moonbah Mountain, Drift Hill, Paddy Rush's Bogong and The Brindle Bull.

Last edited by WarrenH on Thu 21 Jan, 2010 8:48 am, edited 1 time in total.

[north-north-west]

Is this the same Porcupine? 'Cause it doesn't look like the one I was on - east of The Kerries, just an easy half day walk there and back from Tin Hut.

Believe me, that Porcupine doesn't have any nice green snowgums right now.

[WarrenH]

Scavenger, I didn't realise that there are two Porcupines in Kosci' until you questioned it. It certainly is a good poem.

The Porcupine I photographed is south of Perisher Valley township and is actually called Porcupine Rocks. The northern Porcupine is called Mount Porcupine, I've just learnt something. The map is from 'Wild Places' courtesy of Kaliana Press.




Warren.

[north-north-west]

Yeah, I wish people would get themselves sorted and stop all this duplication of names - it can be monstrously confusing.

I've climbed three Spion Kopjes in Victoria, two in the Alpine National Park, and I bet there are more waiting out there. I know of two each of the Mts Despair, Misery and Buggery, just in Victoria, as well.

ps: Thanks. I was hoping someone would appreciate it.

[WarrenH]

I wouldn't mind a dollar for every quest that's taken me into a Labyrinth, for every Sentinel I've combated and for every Castle wall I've breached ... just in New South Wales.

Warren.

[north-north-west]

It gets worse if you're a caver - there are so many Cathedrals out there you need 10GB of memory to keep them all straight. And that's just in Australia . . .

[WarrenH]

Well I guess I am a caver, I've sung old songs in old caves in the Budawangs.

Half way up a mountain in the rain and in failing light, any hole in a rock even one with a rough sloping floor is a concert hall. Then we were off to find a bigger hole in a rock to sing and sleep and dry our clothes in. I've slept and sung in many holes in rocks in the Budawang Range ... vaults with a view worth singing from while sheltering from the rain.





During a walk in the Budawangs my wife Helen wrote this poem.

The Budawang Range - Helen Tayler.

It was the season of the flowers
They were abandoning themselves
And their colours
Between tall grasses and small trees.

The rocks, conglomerating
Were sitting silently. Waiting.
Waiting for their slow death
Through the love of wind and rain and people.

But the cliffs, the outcrops, the monoliths
Were living and dying and took the breath
Ancient Egypt, re-carved
The Sphinx's double all around
There for worship. Worshipping each other.

Stone walls once at the ocean bed
Rise up against the sky
Like well planned buttresses
And hold secrets of marine life
Away from the winds.

Eucalypts are poised
Many of them, against the great stone moldings
With no forest of their own
but hanging gardens instead.

Crickets relishing the reedy swamps
Sing a recognisable song, with frequent breaks
Then a chorus louder than ever
Magpies join them until the valley is filled with timpany sound
Then back to silence.

Warren.

[corvus]

OK corby, you remember that old proverb 'be careful what you ask for, because you might get it'? Well, you asked so suck it up:

SONG OF THE PORCUPINE (Mountain Music for the Terminally Deaf)

Stark against the summer sky
In silence, snowgums stand,
By fire frozen into bone,
Burned white by winter's brand.

Billy Buttons shrill beneath
Of youth and green-gold glory;
Slow, lichen chants on weathered rock
The deeper, older story;

Mintbush carols high and clear
The season's sweetest pleasures;
Orchids murmur soft and low
It's subtle unseen treasures;

Many-coloured Daisies
Harmonise and join the throng;
Join the Eyebright's gentle lilting;
Join the Trigger's strident song;

Join the humming of the mosses;
Join the steady droning beat,
The endless rolling rhythm
Of the Snowgrass underfeet.

Everlasting, everchanging,
But the music's halting now -
Tones of green and cream are missing,
With a scent, a stir of bough -

For the snowgums have been silenced,
And long years must turn 'til eyes
Hear once again their ragged voices
Raised against the summer skies.

Nice one Scavvy who wrote it ? was it you ?
corvus

[north-north-west]

*sigh*

One of these days you'll learn to read. I hope.

[corvus]

*sigh*

One of these days you'll learn to read. I hope.

Perhaps you should " learn" to read PM's sent to you before you go into your usual attack mode
Just thought I would give you a bit of a stir as I know you like to flip out the insults when it suits you
corvus

[north-north-west]

Insults? How does that become an insult? I actually said that you would learn, one day. If I wanted to be insulting I would have assumed it was beyond your capabilities.