The Bunya Woods


If I could live three lives

And love three pretty wives

For let’s say, a century or two

D’you know what?

I’d trade them all

For three moonlit nights

On the Bunya mountains

With you, my dream

On the Bunya mountains

With you


And if I could win three wishes

With a lucky roll of dice

I’d spend them good

In that Bunya wood

I’d kiss you once


And thrice, my dream

Once, twice

And thrice


And if I had just three words

Left to talk

Before my talking was all through

I’d waste them not

On poems or prayers

I’d simply say

I love you, my dream

I’d tell you that

I love you


These majestic mountains, home to the Bunya Pine tree, are situated about 200 kilometers northwest of Brisbane, Queensland. I wrote the little poem following three moonlit nights camping out there with my wife. We never saw another soul, and it felt like we were all alone in the world.


My World by Joe Lynch 2014 ©

We’re a picky lot, on that little dot
Some pick winners, some do not
Some pick fights with the other fellow
My love picks nasturtiums
And leaves them on my pillow


Some sing praises to their Gods
Some sing dirges to their dead
Some, battlesongs to marching boots
And fill the sky with lead


My love dozes in my arms
Humming some old rhyme
About old dogs and children
And watermelon wine


Some awake to the call for prayer

Plant bombs inside their vests
I awake to the kookaburra,
Plant a kiss on my true love’s breast


Some seek jewels, jade and jasper
And strip Earthmother bare
I find treasure in my love’s eyes
And silver in her hair

Some wear Gucci and Obsession
Doir, Chanel, Cologne

My love smells of gardening

And sweet, sweet, subtle Pheromone


Roisin Dubh     By Joe Lynch 2014 ©

Her Spirit walks with me on the turfy moors
And where the black, shell-encrusted rocks
Endure the ceaseless spray
Enchanted, I wander all the day
Oh! You fierce and bold Atlantic
You call me like an over-confident lover
Beckons a smitten slave
Who cannot but obey
You call the rhythm and my heart thunders in time
While you’re rugged arms entwine
My dreaming place
And every dream within it.
And all the while she walks with me
She walks with me in spirit
I watched the wide-eyed gannet hover on the wing, and sing
An eerie unrequited love song
Mostly song with just a hint of cry, and I
Captivated by his song
In my spirit, sang along
But you, my all-talk Atlantic friend
This eve you’re not so bold
Now the sinking Sun has kissed your brow
Your rage has turned to harmony
As your Silver turns to Gold
And her spirit found my sleeping breast
On a turf reek near Kilkee
With a billion other fiery worlds
Blazing down on me
And the Mass-rocks and the moss
And the ruins and the purple heather
All shared a truth I needed then
“Embrace the gift my wounded friend
Cause nothing lasts forever”
And I was King of the world that night
With nature for a palace
Rich green moss for a sleeping gown
And the fairies gave me for a crownThe Aurora borealis
In sleep I heard her sweetly sing
To the delicate beat of a butterfly wing.



The City of New Orleans – by Joe Lynch ©2015

The reckless moon has strewn his treasure

Out across the Mississippi

Dream-a-fying the Creole Queen

Paddle-wheeling sweet to the bluesy brass beat

Of Steamboat Willy and Maybelline

Wooing the lovers,

The dreamers,

The two drink screamers

The Ghosts of Louis and Ella sailing in our dreams

On a silvery Mississippi by the City of New Orleans

And the devil danced so sweet on Bourbon St

Soft-shoe Jose, in gold la-mae

Delicate fleet little wings to his feet

Last night’s tip jar still misting his veins,

Powering his car

Misty, my eyes are too

As he danced my wild unreachable dreams

On the corner of Bourbon and Voodoo

On a steamy dreamy midnight

In the city of New Orleans

And the moonlight paves a pathway on the silver singing river

A shimmering rue for the angels of the Bayou

Healing old scars, only love mends

Oh! the deep, deep scars

Soothed wound by wound by the Creole/Cajun seraphims

Bridging the years, springing sweet tears

For the old world, and the new

On the streetcars,

In the bars

The sinners, saints and superstars

Cannot, but, be in love in the City of New Orleans

Hallelujah! Revelations 13, Ya‘all

Jesus preached on Frenchmen St, on a cheep and loud PA

While Chico, sleeps in a doorway

And gave his crawfish pie

To a hungrier hombre from the streets

I asked why?

He said, “I like to share”

He said, everyone’s a giver here

The preaching Jesus and the dancing devil too

“We all give Señor, by different means”

On the streets of New Orleans”

As I leave you New Orleans, I know you won’t leave me

You’ll abide all time in that smoky old jazz joint of my mind.

Her nimble black fingers tease the yellowed ivory keys

Singing my pain

Reaching my lonely boy

Setting him free again

She said it ain’t my fault you should cry, white boy

You come to hear the blues!

You come to hear the blues! You come the right place, Monsieur

You get to findin what-it-all means

Right here in New Orleans

In a dim-lit, bluesy old jazz joint,

Round about midnight,

In the City of New Orleans.