Homework 18/11/19 - I Wandered Through a Dust-Filled Cloud
Posted: Tue Nov 12, 2019 9:48 pm
This is an interesting challenge you've set for us, Maureen and Terry! A great idea to emulate the old poets, Terry - and a thought-provoking mixture of prompts, Maureen. I have always liked the English sestet form, so I have modelled my poem on William Wordsworths "Daffodils", which has the alternate title "I Wandered Lonely As a Cloud". The current catastrophic bushfire conditions seemed to fit in with the prompts, so here goes ...
I Wandered Through a Dust-Filled Cloud
© Shelley Hansen 12/11/19
I wandered through a dust-filled cloud,
a dry leaf carpet underfoot.
The curlew’s cry rang sad and loud
as if to warn of ashy soot
so soon to fall with ember rain
across the dry and gasping plain.
Beyond, a distant orange blaze
danced devil-like on hillside’s crest,
and through the thick and smoke-filled haze
drew ever closer from the west.
The homestead stood aloft and tall,
to fight the greatest fight of all.
Against the sky, the peaceful blue
of backyard jacaranda trees
seemed almost with its vibrant hue
to mock the rising gusty breeze
that deepened to a howling gale,
transporting firesparks in its trail.
The crews prepared to face the flame -
with pick and shovel, wrought a break.
While media debated blame
they carried on, too tired to take
a rest for damper, Billy tea.
Day merged with night, incessantly.
The homestead, bathed in eerie light,
appeared to wait for certain doom,
when suddenly, across the night
a bolt of lightning lit the gloom –
infusing hearts with soaring hope,
renewing strength to rise and cope.
The future will be faced by men
who push their borders further out.
Hard times will pass, and come again
with fire and flood, and endless drought.
But now – the rain! We dance with glee
around the jacaranda tree.
I Wandered Through a Dust-Filled Cloud
© Shelley Hansen 12/11/19
I wandered through a dust-filled cloud,
a dry leaf carpet underfoot.
The curlew’s cry rang sad and loud
as if to warn of ashy soot
so soon to fall with ember rain
across the dry and gasping plain.
Beyond, a distant orange blaze
danced devil-like on hillside’s crest,
and through the thick and smoke-filled haze
drew ever closer from the west.
The homestead stood aloft and tall,
to fight the greatest fight of all.
Against the sky, the peaceful blue
of backyard jacaranda trees
seemed almost with its vibrant hue
to mock the rising gusty breeze
that deepened to a howling gale,
transporting firesparks in its trail.
The crews prepared to face the flame -
with pick and shovel, wrought a break.
While media debated blame
they carried on, too tired to take
a rest for damper, Billy tea.
Day merged with night, incessantly.
The homestead, bathed in eerie light,
appeared to wait for certain doom,
when suddenly, across the night
a bolt of lightning lit the gloom –
infusing hearts with soaring hope,
renewing strength to rise and cope.
The future will be faced by men
who push their borders further out.
Hard times will pass, and come again
with fire and flood, and endless drought.
But now – the rain! We dance with glee
around the jacaranda tree.