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Ross Smedley

of

Putaruru, NZ

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A Mate Called Ron

by

Ross Smedley

We meet upon those shores
After putting down our oars

We had tended to our boats
Making sure they stay afloat

We got a talking of the sea
And all the places one had been

From that day on
We sailed, drank
and sang song

A friendship, that grows long
I thank my mate Ron

End of a Day

by

Ross Smedley

Swinging just off shore
"AVANTI" swings calm

End of a day
Pipi pot boils
Steam, floats galley to stern

Up forward
A captain snoozes, while
Water shadows shimmer
And fill cabin walls
A faint tap
As water laps

A captain snoozes
Not far from shore
As sun falls low
Water shadows shimmer
No more

What was peace
Is now a "roar"
A captain snores
Not far from shore

NGUNGURU 1960

by

Ross Smedley

Standing at
the schoolyard gate
Waters rushing bye

A fishing boat
follows the tide
The captain knows
she's making
good time

Standing at
the school yard gate
Time, will not wait

He's only five
at least
Twenty years, before
This captain
follows the tide

Standing at
the schoolyard gate
A school bus
Waits

OUR BOATS

by

Ross Smedley

Kauri , Canvas
The sweet perfume
of diesel fumes

A magnet to man
that most women
can't understand

The softness of wood
strong and secure
Brings peace to thee
especially at sea

The warnth goes deep
Impossible to see
Only man knows
What it means to me

Rescue One

by

Ross Smedley

When a mug
Goes out in a tub

Gets in strife
In dangers life

(COASTGUARD)

Turns to a plight
To save life

Volunteers put life
On the line

Save mugs

Save life

Berthing That Boat

by

Ross Smedley

Approaching that pier
On course and all square
Onlookers are many
Make nerves arouse

A recipe for disaster
If we go any faster
Start to slow down
Oh no! Now we're off course

A thrust full astern
Onlookers are fewer
Only the hardy dare look
This is NOT, textbook

Stirring sand, Buubbles and wake
Thank the good lord
For now we're straight
Throw out a line
Shout, pull her in straight

Shut down that motor
No damage is done
Now, the fear has gone
There's time to reflect
Lets have a beer
And then forget

SmokeHouse Bay - Great Barrier Island NZ

by

Ross Smedley

When we visit the Barrier
There's a place we love to stay
That has all the things
One needs, when ones away

From biodegradable bog
Up there in the trees
Wash tub and clothesline
Down beside the sea

Now if the bottom of your boat
Is totally covered in weed
Tie it up, to the poles
So everyone can see

For the ones that catch a snapper
Or maybe even three
Can smoke it in the smokehouse
And give the scraps to me

But the place I like the best
Is soaking in the bath
To stop the salt and grim
Chaffing my behind

We Live This Way

by

Ross Smedley

We live in this boat
But it takith money
To keep afloat

Just like on land
Like you fellow men
With rates power and taxes too
This is my point of view

Sail out and moor in a bay
This is the way
We prefer to stay

So listen to my verse
for a dollar
It must be worth

I'll tell some more
Then sail away
To different shores

Then tell some more
Just as before

Great Barrier - Great Fishing

by

Ross Smedley

Couldn't be keener
To go to Tryphena
Whangaparapara
Or Fitzroy

The snapper are biting
The kingi's are fighting
Oh! what a lovely joy

We'll start up our motor
When we have our quoter

And homeward bound
For thee

Family Fishing

by

Ross Smedley

Saturday morn, walk the pier
Marina so busy, makes fishermen dizzy
But not this family,
fishing is bliss, not to be missed
When a offer goes out
its hook, line and sinker, tucker and bait
Set sail for possies renowned
They sit it out, in hot searing sun
A strong aroma, Bonito and squid
As the sun goes down, they return with a frown
Smelly bait, an empty plate.

NZ, The Challange

by

Ross Smedley

Looking up, at a rig so tall
Reaching past, the goals of all that are old
Reaching tall with passion, So grand,
we seek the tallest
The ultimate goal, was taken first
From a country afar, where it had only
Left, for one spar
We took it second, on home turf straight
For it was easy, Five times, with no brakes
We meet once more, on February dawn
To thrash it out, for there is no doubt
NZ, will be proud
Two thousand and three
Who will it be?

A Sailors Sunset

by

Ross Smedley

Oceans are endless,
Sea spray, cold.
A sailor found peace,
as the day grew old.

That sailor embraced,
a sun setting low,
which warmed his heart,
with its mighty glow.

The Landing

by

Ross Smedley

At Omokoroa landing, they all start to arrive.
Trucks, cars, occasional Tractor too.
They’re all in a line, that some call a que, But
I forgot to say , there’s a bus here too
Far in the distance, a vessel, comes to view,
defiantly a barge, pushing up tide, slow but sure,
Said to arrive some time round four.
As it touches land, starter motors sing.
Its time to board, this enormous thing.
As we thrust off, the ground seems to move,
this is not, what a car is meant to do.
It seems all foreign, stranger than strange.
Just can’t wait,
to hit Terrapherma again.

Days Gone Bye "In Memory of Stan"

by

Ross Smedley

Omokoroa slipway, a place for small ships.
Where Allen and Murry, will haul out your boat,
our set it afloat and Stan the man, will lend a hand.
But at the end of the day, they’ll sit in the bay, and
tell stories of day’s gone bye.
Along comes Collin, to cook up a feed, Pork chop,
spud and peas. The beer will flow, throughout
the year, to help the work get done.
As Christmas approaches, Omokoroa slip,
‘URGENCY’ On work seems to be the one.
For there’s Fishing, Sailing and good times to be had,
the seas the place to be.
So we’ll leave the lads, to tend to there boats,
Allen and Murry, to set them afloat and Stan
the man, to lend a hand.
For they’ll all be back, again next year, to add
to those thoughts and stories
of Day’s gone bye.

We Lost "Sir Peter"

by

Ross Smedley

"Sir Peter"
He travelled far, in a life so short.
He conked challenges, greater then all other.
With honour, grace and charm,
he took Kiwi's by the hand
and lead them, to greatness
the world over.
We salute a man, a husband, a father,
a Kiwi, a hero
and a teacher.
We think of you often
Like the time, a rogue wave
snuck up our stern,
when a budding hero is born
and when the sun, is setting low.
We think of you.
We lost "Sir Peter" at the peak of success
We will now, let him rest.

He Travelled Afar

by

Ross Smedley

An old man, travelled afar
in a boat no bigger
then a V8 Holden car

This man, seeking adventure
in a boat no bigger
then a V8 Holden car

For he cruised oceans, not roads
For he made sea-spray, not dust
For he entered channels, not driveways
For there was, adventure, not gloom

This old man, embraced
a sun set low
And with warmth in his heart
He past on to a place
Only sailors know