H'work for w/e 26.11.18 ... GIRLPOWER ...

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Maureen K Clifford
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Joined: Tue Nov 09, 2010 10:31 am
Location: Ipswich - Paul Pisasale country and home of the Ipswich Poetry Feast
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H'work for w/e 26.11.18 ... GIRLPOWER ...

Post by Maureen K Clifford » Tue Nov 13, 2018 2:56 pm

OK I'll kick it off for you all - now show me what you've got :lol:

GIRLPOWER ... Maureen Clifford © The #ScribblyBark Poet


She was only a baby, a tiny wee tot,
who toddled out wherever Dad went
and she chattered and chattered, asked questions and talked -
whilst commenting on every event.
She was her Dads best mate, they were as thick as thieves
it continued on that way for years,
and he often recalled that one sorry sad day
that her gentle blue eyes filled with tears.

She was a country kid and so wasn't a wimp,
was well used to the harshness of life.
And she never gave in and she never gave up
which at times surely caused her some strife.
She would never stand by or simply acquiesce
if she thought wrong was done she would act
and it was cruelty caused a surge of distress,
raised her anger and made her attack.

She had heard gunfire echo as she rode the range
looking out for a couple of strays
that her Dad had now noticed were missing and worse
they'd been gone for a couple of days.
They'd had problems with wild dogs and trouble with pigs
and so shooters were helping them out
but with quite strict instructions to not spook the stock
and to shut gates when travelling about.

As she came down the hill she saw one gate wide open,
approaching she saw in the dam
a young bloke just standing waist deep in the water
his hands holding tight to a ram.
that struggled and kicked, but its strength it was failing
as the man dunked him under once more
and two other blokes stood on the dam wall laughing
as the drowning ram tried to reach shore.

Without thought of danger she spurred her mare onwards,
a swift kick pushed one in the water.
The other bloke turned, threw his hands in the air
as the mare barreled him. Then the daughter
pulled her twenty two rifle from out of its holster
and sent off three shots in the air,
a signal to her Dad she needed assistance ....
a rifle shot is heard everywhere.

As the firing subsided the bloke in the Dam
let the ram go, and threw up his hands.
In a flurry of dust and a slither of stones
her Dad arrived fast and demands
a full explanation as to what was amiss,
why a half drowned prize Ram now stood there.
Why his daughter had tears pouring down her sweet face ...
and had best be the truth that they share.

"It was just a joke" the three shamefaced men said
"just a splash in the dam - we were hot",
and the silly Ram had been just having a drink
and they chased him, not giving a jot
for his fear ... and he fell and he floundered and they
thought to ride him just for their own fun
but the weight of his fleece saw him sink and near drown,
and that's when the daughter had come.

"You don't remember me" the farmer said quietly
"but I recall you bludgers quite well,
and I thought I would chance it and give you a go
for a brain in each head there must dwell.
But it seems I was wrong - so now get off my place,
just pack up all your swags, hit the road,
and there'll never be need to cross my path again,
for I'll post youse the money you're owed.

And later on he told the story to family
of first meeting those blokes in the shed
on his Father's property one time when shearing
and they were just pure trouble he said.
Each claimed they were proud to be damn good Australians
but actions speak louder than words.
His Dad had their number and gave them the flick
when he caught them mistreating his herds.

But he himself seems made an error in judgment,
kindly thinking to give them some work
because he could see they were down on their uppers ...
and most hungry men aren't known to shirk.
He praised his young daughter - the light of his life
for saving a dire situation
and he was rightly proud - for it's young ones like her
will become the backbone of our nation.
Check out The Scribbly Bark Poets blog site here -
http://scribblybarkpoetry.blogspot.com.au/


I may not always succeed in making a difference, but I will go to my grave knowing I at least tried.

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