Geoffrey Fafard Poems

Do you feel the tune?
No said I truthfully
the spoken word is my genre
That is sad my friend
...

The cold of the gully mists
Cling to the silver ghost gum bark
Cries of an Owl spells capture
The rustle of passing bats
...

(Quiet chant or sticks-background-loud single clap on each Stop word-if you want to sing this)

Stop because of bad weather
Stop when confronted by
...

He dared me he did
To spend the night
By the billabong side
Scared? Never no way
...

So why do you hide up
There in those tropic hills
Daintree wilds, Windsor ridges
Lost valleys, ancient valleys of
...

Ahh... How Cuba calls
All fuzzy and retro
There you were
With your fat cigar
...

I slept in the forest last night
I needed the air it relinquishes
I dreamt of a deeper forest
From which one chooses not escape
...

I remember the Mysore road
Out past Brindivan Dam
I remember the old diesel Desoto
Chugging, taking us to the tanks
...

All these tough years
All the hollow winds
That speak to me hiding
Here under the threat
...

So you know your facts
You're an expert I hear
Have you been where I am
Not likely I fear
...