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Down by the Queanbeyan River
A river too is like a library, Its banks like storied shelves, Its memories written on water, And in the nearby land. The suspension bridge still bounces like it always did, And on each end the obelisks Painted brilliant white, Hold up the spiralled cables, Steeled taught across the gulf, Across the space between one world And that which is beyond. It looked old when I first saw it And it is, a dole project schemed for Depression Era men Raised up to replace an older bridge That floods had washed away, And before that stepping stones That linked Irishtown to To the Protestants and services That flourished on the…
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A Visit to the Queanbeyan Library
When I first visited the Queanbeyan Library, it was housed in the old council chambers. After that, it moved from place to place, and is now housed in a multistorey plexiglass building. The earliest memory I have of the library is borrowing a picture book version of the story of Ulysses. It was illustrated with beautiful coloured illustrations of the characters and the stories. I had spotted it behind the glass counter on the return desk and the librarian kindly processed it, with the old fashioned ink stamps then used, so that I could borrow it. La prima volta che sono andato alla Biblioteca di Queanbeyan, era ospitata nelle vecchie…
