When asked if self-considered himself a tall poppy, the poet Les Murray, replied, ‘ No. I’m a gorgeous spreading hydrangea.’
Tag Archives: Les Murray
Dad was a very good timber worker. He knew a lot more about timber than his father did. His father resented this fact and his father wanted to be the champion of everything he put his hand to. He thought he was a better timber worker and he wasn’t, and there was a certain tree he wanted cut down and Dad said, ‘No you don’t want that cut down, that’s dangerous’.
He said, ‘It’s full of white ants and you put an axe into that it’ll fall all over you and kill you’.
So grandfather sneaked away and got his younger son Archie, Dad’s younger brother, to cut the tree down instead. Archie did. The tree fell to pieces and big lumps of it fell all over him and killed him; smashed his brains out. From then on, there was a great feud between Dad and his father.
‘You caused it.’ ‘No, you bloody caused it’.
They were that roused they would have screaming rows and you’d hear them all over the district. They never mentioned what they were rowing about but you knew. They were rowing about what was most on their mind, that was that they had killed their son/brother, and each blamed the other.”