H'work for w/e 1/1/18 - By the Sliprails

[Maureen K Clifford]

By the Sliprails ... Maureen Clifford © The #ScribblyBark Poet

Old post and rail fences disguised with grey lichen,
in disrepair stand or slump on the bare earth
well eroded and trampled, with faint hoof prints showing,
and old dried manure. Tall prickly pear growing
their brilliant red flower, in bright sunlight glowing.
Their seeds spread by wild pig - the cause of rebirth.

Old snow gums stand stately, white limbs reaching skyward
and old broken branches festooning the ground.
Silver foliage shelters the owl, roo and wild dog,
and at night one can hear the Corroborree frog
serenading a female beneath a log
with its unique Ah-rurkk ... urkk ...urkk, or squelch sound.

Then falls velvet evening, and in drift quiet shadows
to old stock yards where salt licks are remembered
A young chestnut mare enters with her first foal at foot
a bay mare follows close each hoof daintily put
whilst a bob tailed yearling with nose black as soot
barges through, 'cause he's totally self centered.

And the stallion shelters, hiding in shadow
dark hide indistinct in the camouflage dark
Then an owl swooping low causes heads to rise sharply
they're off, all in unison moving right smartly
and running like wildfire - the stallion neighs - he
swivels soft ears to locate the dingoes bark .

With their hindquarters tensed and dappled with colour
they clear fallen snow gums impeding their way
and both the little foals mimic each move their Mums make
sticking close to her flanks though their little hearts quake.
The thunder of hooves follows close in their wake.
Their stallion savagely chivvies the strays.

And high on a hill a lone warrigal gives voice
he howls at the moon on this cold frosty night
as the yarramans thunder along stony pathways
led by the old matriarch, gray with a white blaze
who knows every inch of these mountains - their maize.
To secret asylum she led them in flight.

Old post and rail sliprails disguised with grey lichen,
once stockyards, stand empty , devoid of all life;
but eroded red soil showed sign of recent hoof prints
and one freshly upended rock in moonlight glints
still lingering, the scent of freshly crushed mints
but the brumbies are gone - now removed from strife.

[Shelley Hansen]

A very vivid word picture, Maureen - and such an unusual rhyme pattern! Love the innovation!

I don't know anything much about horses, so these prompts are another of those challenges that you reckon I love!

Cheers
Shelley

[Maureen K Clifford]

Thanks Shelley - it is one of those poems that I think I will fiddle with quite a bit over time as it isn't quite how I would like it - the rhyming scheme is a little different - ABCCCB and whilst the syllable count is consistent the metre is off - so as I said - a work in progress. Thank you for your kind comment though

[Shelley Hansen]

I think we all have our fair share of those poems, Maureen - I know I do. You put them away for a while, then resurrect them and tweak them a bit - until finally, you either nail it or you reckon it's as good as it's going to get!

That's poetry!

Cheers
Shelley