H'work for w/e 30.7.18 - When the crimson sun is sinking in

[Maureen K Clifford]

When the crimson sun is sinking in the west... Maureen Clifford © The #ScribblyBark Poet


It's a creepy sort of feeling when you see the landscape change,
how the distant hills all disappear. Nature will rearrange
your perspective, making everything appear to be quite strange
and the atmosphere around is fairly humming.


The curlew ceased his wailing for the dead who'd gone before,
and the cockatoo stopped screeching - which was somewhat odd for sure
whilst the ring around the moon took on a blue hue - prepare for
some bad weather Lads - my guess is rains a'coming.


Our campfire died in ashes grey, t'was drowned by all the water
that tumbled from the sky above, poured out by Neptune's daughter
who's holidaying way out west, avoiding all the slaughter
of the sea life that is being killed by plastic.


A pale and pinkish sky appeared, with grey clouds thick and heavy,
it seemed as good a time as any to enjoy a bevy
of amber liquid gold and cold - the esky's in the Chevy....
so we drank until the drink gave out - fantastic.


We drank to Thor the Thunder God, our thoughts were in attune
We drank his health all day until the rising of the moon.
We toasted Kin and country , and our pollies did impugn
and we proclaimed love to all here that was best.


We cursed the drought and bankers, and we cursed the cost of fuel,
no doubt if you had heard us you would perhaps think us cruel
for we swore like bloody troopers or a teenager at school,
just letting down our hair... a farmer's fest.


And 'twas good to share with mates the pain and sorrow of the past
for we'd all done the hard yards. No one thought the drought would last
for ten years - we were buggered, but each man had held steadfast.
Now the crimson sun was sinking in the west.


The curlew ceased his wailing for the dead who'd gone before,
we drank a toast to old mates who had sadly left our shore
and promised to look out for each other for evermore,
stand united, men , all lovers of this country.


And we listened to the falling rain and begged Huey for more,
each face was wreathed in smiles - the wolf slunk out of the door.
Not one man there was wealthy, but not one man then felt poor
as we dreamt of stock, no longer going hungry.

[Shelley Hansen]

A good old-fashioned bush ballad, Maureen! Shades of Henry

I like the bit about Neptune's daughter avoiding the sea pollution - very imaginative and a great modern touch.

You always set the pace for us with the homework ... first off the mark as usual. When I see each new set of prompts, I wonder how I will ever pull them together into something sensible - yet you do it with such apparent ease!

Cheers
Shelley

[Maureen K Clifford]

Thank you Shelley - I think I have a warped mind. For these prompts I just rifled through a book a friend recently gave to me titled Australian Bush Ballads edited by Douglas Steward and Nancy Keesing - it is a very interesting book. So I pulled out 6 lines that looked interesting for use as prompts. And then this kind of wrote itself

[Catherine Lee]

Ah Maureen, you've done it again! So fast, and really setting the bar... A great tale and a pleasure to read.

[Terry]

Hi Maureen

Yes you set a cracking pace alright.

Your poems are always interesting, not frightened to experiment - you have a inventive mind girl.

I also liked the rhyming of the first three lines and the rhyming of the last line of a stanza with the last line of the next one.

Cheers Terry