Monarto Cemetery

Posted on by thedislocatedhippies

In Don Dunstan’s Day

(past Callington way)

‘Twas promised a shining new Polis would rise.

But…it’s still just pioneers

with long dried up tears

and six feet of clay to try on for size.

 

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4 thoughts on “Monarto Cemetery”

    1. I love the cemeteries in Java, tiny affairs with little fences, filled with trees, ghost trees, as I call them. The dear departed reaching up into the sky and waving at us, or bursting into flower before our eyes. A kind of immortality.

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  2. Cemeteries are sad and romantic. This one for a town that never grew– I went by an obelisk on the Wimmera I think commemorating a gold rush city of thousands that left no trace on the plain. Who’ll come a’waltzing Matilda with me?

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    1. Yes, they’re endlessly fascinating, and become even more so as we begin to regard them as a future real estate choice. The ones in Java are magical, full of beautiful trees that let the ancestors wave in the wind and burst into bloom.

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Published by thedislocatedhippies

Kristen and Billy sprang from the loins of 4 heroic ancestors. They roamed the Earth separately for an Age, playing the zither, predicting earthquakes, calling bingo games, eating sponge cakes, and watching old movies on tv. They were schooled by the Dominicans and the Christian Bros, what taught them their letters and scribbling skills. So, rudely equipped, and with a missal full of hymns in their hearts they stepped forth into the world. Kristen and Billy tried to keep the hippy flame alive as they strove and stumbled through work, like Kane from Kung-Fu crossed with Pollyanna, finding both good and evil in the hearts of men, ( but mainly good). They filled out time sheets and instead of villains punched the clock over and over again. Finally, the dark clouds parted, the sun shone through, they met each other, stopped punching and started living. Now they are two wide eyed, clickety hipped, post career dislocated hippies looking to get lost in a big wide world.