Poem – Welcome to Gosford

June 2, 2011

This is an old poem from when I lived back in Gosford. I thought I’d dig it up and give it an edit after speaking to my friend about the suicide rates in the city. Apparently they have risen again. Currently the 2nd highest in Australia and one of the highest in the world.

From the poem I actually remember seeing this guy standing on the bridge, but I don’t remember if the police actually managed to get him off. Well, anyway enjoy this heart-warming poem about the place I grew up in!


Welcome to Gosford 


“Welcome to Gosford” painted

bright blue upon bright yellow

greets drivers crossing the bridge.

Maybe it has different colours now

but I remember it this way.

I was at the end of my street,

only eighty so meters away,

snatching a quick glimpse

of the man standing there

on the bridge’s rim, just above

the painted yellow brick.

It must have been ten years ago

when long hair and flannel were in.

A crowd had formed of people and cars.

Police officers stood around

watching the young man with long hair

and flannel contemplate the air

two inches from his feet. I read somewhere

(or was I told?)

that this was our forte,

best in the world, even. Our tiny place

with such a hopeless record.

Was anomie our bricks back then

and ennui our mortar?

Statistics cannot tell this

or how long he stood up there

on the ledge above the train tracks

before any driver stopped.




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