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Aboriginal poems and poetry

Contemporary Aboriginal poetry is an important part of Aboriginal art. Many poems express how Aboriginal people feel today and their poems are about the challenges that they share with non-Indigenous people but also about Indigenous-specific problems.

The Aboriginal-owned Koori Mail newspaper regularly publishes poems written by Aboriginal people.

Aboriginal poems

Here are a few poems by Aboriginal writers. I've also added links to articles about the topics their poems refer to.

No Disgrace Coralie Cassady, QLD

There is no disgrace,
So proudly show your Aboriginal face.

Once upon a time,
We Aborigines were regarded as small-time.

But positive happenings for Aborigines,
Are beginning to brilliantly shine.

Aborigines, you are doing it just fine.

We have been constantly put down,
Messed around,
But our Aboriginal culture still strongly abounds.

Who is now having the last laugh?

One thing's for sure,
Aborigines don't do things by half.

Internationally recognized Aboriginal band,
Yothu Yindi,
Sing to the world,
About our heritage, misery and loss of land.

Aboriginal paintings adorn many walls.
We have picked ourselves up,
Since our two hundred years ago fall.

We are definitely making our own tracks,
We are no longer considered as 'myall blacks'.
Cover: Poetic Perspective by Coralie Cassady Cover: Proper Deadly Poetry by Coralie Cassady

Coralie has published many more poems in her two booklets Poetic Perspective and Proper Deadly Poetry. Her poems cover all aspects of Aboriginal life and offer a rare insight into her culture.

Buy some poetry: You can purchase Poetic Perspective (84 pages) for A$15 and Proper Deadly Poetry (88 pages) for A$20 plus packaging and postage. Drop me an email and I forward it to Coralie.

Proud Murri Daniel Davis, QLD

I'm proud to be a Murri, proud to be a true Australian.
I'm proud of my culture, my heritage, that's what makes me who I am.

My father, he Kukuyalanji, my mother Baradah woman.
But all we are family, we are all one of many men.
I'm proud to be a Murri, I'm not ashamed of who I am.

I'm not one of those gammon Murris who think they're only half.
When I hear people talk like that, I just look at them an laugh.

Did I tell you I'm living as a proud Murri, I'll die as one too.
All the way from Bluff, real Murri through and through.

But ashamed I don't know my culture as well as I would like.
I guess that's my regret, not knowing my language and ways of living, that's my right.

But still, I'll stand ten feet tall when someone says 'who here belong to this country?'
I'll jump up and say 'that's me mate,' I'm proud to be a Murri. [1]

Read more about Aboriginal people and Aboriginal identity.

Untitled poem Sharon Livermore, NSW

I am an old wooden house with old wooden floors.
My windows are ancient and so are the doors.

I've seen better days, but I'm comfortably warm.
And there's a fire in the hearth when outside is a storm.

I'll lull you and woo you until you're asleep,
and you can stay in my arms, for as long as it takes.

For your heart that is aching to comfortably mend
so you're not scared of strangers and welcome new friends.

I'm the saltwater woman, and the ancient of days
I'm the son of the Father, I'll teach you his ways.

I'm a friend to all people, the lover of souls
It is I who first made you and will remake you whole.

I'm proud of your dark skin, you're a child of his care
You're my warrior race and my sweet maidens fair.

You're the reflection of my love, not greedy for gain
And though they don't know it, my heart is full of pain.

For I put out my hand in peace, in love
And they missed it and shunned it with musket and glove.

And they said 'we have our god' with teeth and a book
And you just have nothing, we're here for a look.

If we see anything of value and gain
We'll declare this our land, and to save you the shame

Of having nowhere to go we'll save you a bit,
Oh you might have to do with a swamp or a tip.

Consider yourselves naked and outcast and poor,
'Cos that's what we saw when we knocked at your door.

And I looked at them kindly with eyes soft and black
And thought the mother will teach them if they come back.

But they rejected her teachers, and rejected her law,
Shunned her food and her language, her songs and her lore.

They starved in the garden, they ate dusty old bread,
While sweet bush tucker waited at the table instead.

They tried to grow corn cobs, breed cattle and sheep
And mother grew weary and just fell asleep.

But the young men are rising with songs and with lore
They'll sing you back home to your foreign shore.

They'll take you and break you till your heart's full of pain
For the sacrificed love and you ill gotten gain.

They'll wake up the mother with a shout and a roar
And she'll rise up with weeping for all that she saw.

For her jewelry now gone and her wounds and her pain
And she'll shatter your dreaming and begin again.

Her greenness she'll gather and cloak at her feet
And she'll look for her governors, the mild and the meek.

She'll chase away anger and chase away pain
And rebuild her fortress so you'll not come again! [5]

Exercises

All Walks Of Life Sharon Roebourne, Western Australia

Our families are well respected
We are easily accepted
We have a drink or two
Even make our own home brew
We like to hunt on land
Bare feet on the hot sand
We hunt in the sea
It makes us feel wild and free
We come near and far
All bare feet without a car
We are proud
We sing out loud
We walk hand in hand
We are apart of the great Australian Land

Life of Sharon Roebourne Sharon Roebourne, Western Australia

I am an aboriginal
Simple and original
I like to keep tradition
I always love my fishin
I am a northwester
Where I like to fester 
Under the hot sun
Where I can have fun
I like to get a tan
Whenever I can
I love the great outdoors
Someday I'll see the waterfalls
I'd like to see a croc if not
I'll stand on the top of Ayres Rock
I love the Pilbara land
Always dry and never bland
I have a little girl 
She puts me in a whirl
Her name is Shae
She was born in May
So now you know about me
So young and so free
And that's the way I like to be!

Thank you Sharon for contacting me and sharing this poetry of yours.

Tribal Birth Margaret Armstrong, Ipswich, Queensland

You came to our land and took it
Devastation to our people you knew it
You thought that by putting us away
We should be here to obey

Your every command and demand
You had the right to disband
You didn't once try to see
That we are a special race put here

By our almighty one and Mother Earth
Who gave each of us our tribal birth
Aboriginal Australia has a myth of its own
Our Land Our Culture Our Mother Home

Let us once more be in peace
Do not let this discrimination increase
Each one of us put on this earth
All have Our Rights Our Land Our Tribal Birth.

Exercises

A Song of Hope Oodgeroo (Kath Walker)

Look up, my people,
The dawn is breaking
The world is waking
To a bright new day
When none defame us
No restriction tame us
Nor colour shame us
Nor sneer dismay.

Now brood no more
On the years behind you
The hope assigned you
Shall the past replace
When a juster justice
Grown wise and stronger
Points the bone no longer
At a darker race.

So long we waited
Bound and frustrated
Till hat e be hated
And caste deposed
Now light shall guide us
No goal denied us
And all doors open
That long were closed.

See plain the promise
Dark freedom-lover!
Night's nearly over
And though long the climb
New rights will greet us
New mateship meet us
And joy complete us
In our new Dream Time.

To our fathers' fathers
The paid, the sorrow;
To our children's children
the glad tomorrow. [3]

My Want Then and Today B Robertson, Oolong House, Nowra, NSW

My Want Then
                                                
Here I sit                                      
Alone in the park                               
I'm bored to the hilt                           
15 hours til dark                               
                                                
A drink I'm thinking                            
To have some fun                                
And forget about the pain                       
In this morning sun                             
                                                
It's 8 o'clock now                              
The doors open wide                             
To invite the drink one's                       
To mosey inside                                 
                                                
Got the first cask                              
Tucked under me arm                             
Feeling good now                                
I'll soon be calm                               
                                                
Thoughts of feedom                              
Soon touch my lips                              
As grog hits my guts                            
Back in the habit's grip                        
                                                
No sooner I start                               
I start rollin' around                          
I know I'm cosy                                 
On this clover ground                           

Soon I'm asleep
Blowin' zzzz's galore
A few hours' sleep
Wake up to some more

Funny this ride
I can't get off
Goes 'round and 'round
It's surely my boss.
My Want Today

Here I am today
Some new ways learned
To try and stay calm
And not crash and burn

Still ways to go
To improve my life
And not pick up a beer
It'll surely lead to strife

Sit back, take a breath
Something I've never done
Learning not to stress
A new life has begun

I'll go and throw a line
It's a beautiful day
The breeze in my face
Bad memories fade away

It's comin' on dark
I didn't know the time
Home to cook a feed
And settle for the night

My want for the day
Is embedded in my heart
Don't stuff up the day
Tomorrow's a new start. [4]

Learn more about Aboriginal alcohol consuption.

Kinchela (The Stolen Kids) Paul Buttigieg

The years have gone now
Not sure what sorry can do
For
Us boys

Abused
Lonely

Not just black
Black and blue

So who loved us?
Then

Who watched the watcher?
As he made love to me
And
Lusted over my young body

We climbed through windows
We ran away
Criminals

Just
For being black and stolen

Exercises

Wisdom J E Doyle

I sat and spoke to the Elders today
It is not so wrong in what they say

The times have changed as they well know,
But isn't it time we had a fair go

So let us all band together and clear the air
The Kooris know that things are not fair

Their knowledge is known for thousands of years
Through hunting, healing, also tears
They have also survived hatred and fear

So let us all live together before it's too late
And make this land a wonderful place. [6]

Aboriginal poetry resources

Aboriginal poetry by Samuel Watson

Aboriginal poetry: Smoke Encrypted Whispers by award-winning poet Samuel Wagan Watson, are poems which 'pulse with the language and images of a mangrove-lined river city' and 'restless ancestors'.

Anna The Goanna - Children's poems by Jill McDougall

Poems for children: Anna The Goanna written by Jill McDougall not only covers the fun parts of Aboriginal life (such as camping and playing footy) but also more serious issues like petrol sniffing.

Out of respect for Aboriginal culture I use Indigenous sources as much as possible.
[1] 'Proud Murri', Koori Mail 431 p.24 [2] untitled, , Koori Mail 431 p.24 [3] Koori Mail 445 p.25 [4] Koori Mail 448 p.23 [5] Koori Mail 452 p.23 [6] Koori Mail 463 p.25

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