Poems of Tea Tree Gully

Members of the North Eastern Writers have provided some of the poems reflecting their experiences, feelings and connection with Tea Tree Gully.  All authors below maintain copyright of their work.

The views expressed in these poems are purely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views or direction of the City of Tea Tree Gully, City of Tea Tree Gully Library, staff or elected members, or members of the North Eastern Writers. Content may not be suitable for minors.

Lorikeets
They pair away,
through curtains
of eucalypts,
in lines arrow straight
almost, with their
green hero capes
and alter ego
orange masks
gone before they go there,
so fast, so sure
their voices bright
like rain
and they rule my street
daylight lamps
of perfection.

Gordon McPherson

A Gully Memoir
I remember Johnny Ryan
With his Modbury Pub,
I remember cool green grass
when families frolicked.
Athe the Highbury, listening to the bands.
I remember all the hoo ha
When the Blue Gums rang out
I remember flooded fords
With bubbling rushing streams-
Across the Ladywood.
Where vineyards thrived for years
But that was long ago.
When progress made us catch our breath.
And trapped us in it’s vice.

Ray Clift

Tea Tree Gully Agistment
I remember as a kid, going with my dad
way off to the east, past our suburb
past other suburbs, past shops and houses
past paddocks and paddocks
until there it was, the paddock we were looking for.
We caught our horse, loaded it up
and headed back home… mission accomplished.
Tea Tree Gully sure has changed since those days…

Now my husband and I head southwards,
past paddocks, more paddocks, supermarkets, suburbs,
houses, shops, more houses, more suburbs
even more houses until there it is –
the Tea Tree Gully Library. We leave our books
load up with more books and then head back home
mission accomplished. I love the ways
Tea Tree Gully has changed since those days!

Carolyn Cordon

Golden Grove
Swooping down the Golden Way,
Glowing gold on this winter day
out into wide MacIntyre Road,
skies arched above
down, down we go,
down to the other world below.

Evening, work over for the day
swing off the busy North East Highway
and back up wide MacIntrye Road.
leaving the plains
dusty and grey,
Sweeping up the Golden Way
(glowing gold on this winter day)
towards the shining roofs of Golden Grove
crowing the hill in the setting sun
bathed in gold, every one.

Rosemary Winderlich

Tea Tree Gully: Birds and Trees
large puffy clouds and white horsetails
streak across the high blue
eucalypts swing to silent breezes
white flowered ‘tea trees’
shelter in gullies give up their healing oil

rowdy meeting of green parrots
swarm in branches shedding peeling bark
fights flare for gum blossoms
noise fills the air
spaghetti petals rain a layer
on bark-strewn ground

in the green park sounds
of children playing
echo green parrots
trees sway in lazy breezes
cloud change shape in the high blue

Jocelyn Munro

Morning on the backstreets of TTG
Time
taking time
slow time
car left home
no phone.
Marinading in morning
breathing green
breathing roses and rich loam
beneath leafy trees
strolling Luxuriantly
through back streets
of the leafy North East
taking time to roam.
Destination    yes
a distance away
deadlines       no
I’m taking time today

So still, so still
children at school
quiet streets soaking n golden peace
sparrows busily gossiping
distant glorious magpie’s song
lifting my spirits.
North eastern suburbs
slow rising foothills
space and peace
gently embraced
in golden morning.

Rosemary Winderlich

The origin of Tea Tree Gully
Was not all that flash
I worked for that Council
Up the back of Hancock Road

Made many paths through Parks
Converted many a sheep paddock
Prepared for Suburbia
Arrested severe erosion.

Before Tea Tree Plaza
When that white Catholic Church
was the lone sentinel on a bare hill
Off Montague Road

The Finks worked for that Council
Their headquarters at the old dump
They never did the work, just sat next to
The leading hands on them old trucks

Then when I worked at the Blue Gums Hotel
Met them Finks again
Me on me CB100
They rode with me, at least it wasn’t a two-stroke

Chocko worked on oil rigs in Saudi Arabia,
Spade had a flat face only a mother could love
While milky slithered through
my belongings looking for a score

They told me of their exploits
How the Council used ’em
For their strongarm tactics
Partied, wrecked houses.

I made love at the bottom of Anstey’s Hill
Watched embers rocket up that hill.
At the same time Black hill burnt to the ground
every second year.

My memories of Tea Tree Gully
Are mixed

And when I adopted part of that dry creek
Five years work destroyed in one day
when TTG Council cleared the creek,
new weeds travelled with their machinery

The themeda and danthonia, stipa,
enneopogon nigricans all churned up
We dispersed despite the promise of a Grant
My spiritual homelands.

Colin Herring

Anstey’s Hill

Ancient bones of limestone
Still stand over the Gully
Above the criss cross ways
Of traffic and the doings
Of the commercial day
Standing guard.

Gordon McPherson

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