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Local Lines

July 9th, 2023Local Lines

Ernie Hug was a back pocket for The Pies in ‘65but up front were his hands With 28 centimetre spans...


Ernie
i
Ernie Hug was a back pocket
for The Pies in ‘65
but up front were his hands
With 28 centimetre spans
those hands enclosed the ball
when he clocked his marks
Ernie also handled prize bulls
drove a Rolls Royce to training
and represented Victoria
ii
I had him for years
rubber-banded with
other Scanlens mates
Avuncular Ernie clutching
a Ross Faulkner, gooby grin
like Andy Griffith
And somehow, like legends
EJ, Polly and Blue Barassi
Ernie got to be die cut,
his image poppable
by pressing on the flat card
with my tiny thumbs
iii
Post-footy, a tree pressed
on poor Ernie’s tractor
and he was dead at 34

by Bill Wootton
Bill barracks for Collingwood and collected Scanlens footy cards from 1964- He sold them to a collector for a small fortune ten years ago but still misses flicking through them occasionally.
Local Lines features poetry by locals about locals and any other matters. Please submit poems to Bill Wootton at cottlesbreedge@gmail.com

Local Lines

April 30th, 2023Local Lines

Pushing my own barrow here, I am chuffed to announce that Ross Gillett will launch Watch, my new poetry collection, at Radius Arts, 76 Main Road, Hepburn Springs on Saturday, May 6, from 3pm-5pm.

Words: Bill Wootton

Bill Wootton.


Poetry collection launch
Pushing my own barrow here, I am chuffed to announce that Ross Gillett
will launch Watch, my new poetry collection, at Radius Arts, 76 Main Road,
Hepburn Springs on Saturday, May 6, from 3pm-5pm. All welcome.
Here is the title poem:


Watch
Face the size of the newly released ten cent bit
the watch Grandma Beat gave me for my tenth birthday
was just right for my narrow wrist
A thin red second hand jerked over solid black numbers
Luminous lime on skeletal gold
outlined the prime movers
The brown leather band was stiff and the buckle flimsy
but whizzo was its presentation in a crimson Bevilles box
which closed with a soft huff
Long ago the watch was left in a squash change room
but the box is still in fine order
home to badges also once worn
No Nukes The Clash Legalise it
and already obsolete –
a pea-green iPod nano
Time back then was on everybody’s hands
Pre-digital creatures we were
Wrist ready
Does it mean anything now to tap
on your forearm interrogatively?
Grandma Beat ran out of time a year after gifting me
The old box having seen off its ticker within
may yet outlive
its worn wearer

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