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TOM ROLLO'S PRAIRIE POETRY PAGE
DOUG AND LINDA GRANT-BRAYBROOK OVERLOOKING THE ASSINIBOINE RIVER VALLEY NEAR VIRDEN, WHO HAVE CREATED THIS PAGE AS A TRIBUTE TO TOM ROLLO,
A LOCAL POET/NATURALIST WHO HAS WRITTEN THIS POEM
DESCRIBING THE VALLEY.
Most of my life I have been blessed
By a long winding old stream
Our beautiful Assiniboine River
A place to swim to fish and to dream
I have lain on it's banks
On a warm bright sunny day
With my dog an old willow pole
Just lazing the hours away.
Two mallard ducks nearby
With their family of nine
They pay small heed to me
Nor my dog nor old fishing line.
They swim slowly up and down
Forever quacking softly away
As if reminding the young
Never to wander astray
Then I see a long train
As it struggles up the hill
Saying HI to all nearby
With a blast long and shrill
A pair of bush partridge
Come and light upon a tree
They seem shy at first
But soon lose all fear of me
Soon they are on the ground
And then quick as a wink
They are running to the river
For their early evening drink
Suddenly I see a movement
Across the river among the trees
It's and OLD DOE WITH FAWNS
She smells danger in the breeze.
With head held high
She loudly stamps her feet
Then with a flash of her tail
Her disappearance is complete
By now the sun is setting
And I should be going home
To return again another day
The hills and valleys to roam.
It refreshes olden memories
Takes me back to bygone days
When I wandered with my brothers
On Scotland's lovely Mormond Braes.
Jan. 1995
So green was our valley
Just short months ago,
But now that same valley
Lies hidden in snow.
The river, too is frozen o'er
No more the waters splash,
Around the rocks upon the shore
And over the fallen ash.
The huge maple trees are bare to the wind
The leaves long since have fallen,
The wild goose, too has headed south
No more do we hear his calling.
The lone coyote upon the ridge
Watches with gleaming eye,
Ready to spring upon a mouse
Or a rabbit on the sly.
While overhead an eagle soars
And hovers East and West,
To swoop and rise with talons fast
In a helpless victims breast.
The lone buck that lay
In the lush green grass,
You can see him now plainly
In the bare trees, as we pass.
Far down in the valley, the sleigh bells ring
As the horses haul the sleigh,
Their breath billows forth like a cloud of smoke
As they slowly make their way.
The tiny rabbits now are white
As they scamper over the snow,
They never seem to mind the cold
Though it's thirty five below.
But mother nature is wide awake
And will surprise us all some day,
When spring bursts forth with life anew
And dons her gay array.
Then when the tiny rivulets
Into her waters flow,
Once again she will leap to life
This beautiful Assiniboine we know.
I have seen the old Assiniboine
Ever since I was a child
Seen her sleeping in the winter
And in the springtime running wild.
I have seen her when
The ice jams in the spring,
Would lie for hours, to explode
It would make your ears ring.
I watched them blast the ice packs
Heaped up in a ridge
Extending a mile back
From the old wooden bridge.
I have seen her in the summer,
After a winter with little snow,
When it was so shallow
There was scarce enough to flow.
It is hard to realize
Not too many years ago
The old paddle wheelers
Fought against her flow.
They tell of floating logs
Down her winding streams
When we see the sandbars showing,
It makes it seem just like a dream.
I met a fair young maiden
After roaming for a spell,
She was the one I longed for
Right then I could tell.
We walked in the evenings
Down the winding pathways,
And each time we parted
I was left in a daze.
We strolled hand in hand
Midst the flowers and the trees,
We were thrilled by the feel
Of the soft summer breeze.
The song-birds were singing.
Their sweet songs of romance,
Soon we were smitten
By choice or by chance.
The flowers were blooming
On hill and in dell,
'Twas then that I called her
My sweet Bonnie Blue Bell.
Her cheeks were like roses
Her lips like rare wine,
I knew I would court her
'Till she said she'd be mine.
Now near fifty years later
I am so happy to tell,
The thrill of first meeting
My sweet Bonnie Blue Bell.
Our home filled with flowers
With their heavenly smell,
The pride of my loved one
My sweet Bonnie Blue Bell.
One lonely rose bush slowly waving
Displaying its magnificent bloom
Thrilling passersby and neighbours
With its lovely sweet perfume.
Growing in our neighbour's yard
A brilliant sight for all to see
A multitude of pinkish blossoms
Gaily rocking endlessly.
One of Nature's priceless gifts
Precious as the finest gold
Sitting in the fence corner
The finest sight one can behold.
Gently rocking in the breeze
Leaves and blossoms all entwined
Making it a sight to treasure
To remain forever in the mind.
Blooming there all through the summer
Spreading joy to every eye
Waving gently as if to welcome
Every single passerby.
Tiny rosebuds wait their turn
Facing a life-span they never know
Will they survive a hail storm
To be a victim of winter's snow?
Each year we are blessed
Every single summer day
With the sight of roses blooming
In our neighbour's yard across the way.
To view these poems please click on the titles:
BIRTHDAYS! WHO IS AFRAID OF OLD AGE?
It stands solemn and lonely
Close by the railroad track
Seemingly steeped in fond memories
Of things a few years back.
Back to the start of its structure
Field stones hauled from miles away
The clink of stonemasons hammers
Resounded throughout the day.
All the while the steam locomotives
Rolled along the tracks close by
While the shrill blast of the whistle
Pierced the early morning sky.
Over the years it served trains
Of many a purpose and style
Freights, Passenger and Locals
Even silk trains for awhile.
The ever speeding silk trains
With guards at every door
Are now a thing of the past
Just a memory of before.
Scores of children stood quietly
As the passenger drew near
The engineer softly blew the whistle
So not to harm one tender ear.
The passenger trains are fewer now
So the station is no longer required
But plans are in the forming
Of a fitting future long desired.
Perhaps it shall serve another purpose
Come to a new life in its day
Once more the thing of beauty
That long served our local railway.
Now declared a Heritage Railway Station
We all hope it can be restored
To remain in the community
As a just and well deserved reward.
Built in the year of 1906
It was a building of beauty then
With a new future in store
It can become a priceless building once again.
Oct. 26/90
(copyrights applied for)
Tom Rollo
Jan.1995
Box 127
Miniota, Manitoba.
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