ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

FLYING HIGH


There’s a place where we used to walk and dream,
down the bush where the creek ran clear and clean,
and the tall eucalypts would wave their leaves
in the fragrant heat of Summer’s breeze.

There were tracks through the brush, a secret way
so we thought, that could lead to caves of grey
weathered rock, in the green and winking light.

But that was before the creek ran dry;
But that was before black smoke filled the sky;
And that was before the sparks flying high.

Now the dreams of the day are dreams of night.

I like this Neville, it's very evocative - I can smell the eucalyptus and feel the breeze, and then of course, feel the sadness in your final images...

Thanks Catherine. There's not a lot to say, it's mostly feeling of loss,

Good one Neville - nicely crafted and less is so often more as we know. The sadness is tangible in your poem

Thanks Maureen, there's a lot of grief and loss around. I don't think it is over yet by a long way.

G/day Neville

I really like this one Neville,
I always enjoy a bit of real poetry, and this one is.
It's an art we're fast losing, IMO.

Cheers

Terry

Thanks for the great encouragement Terry, I'm blushing . ( even with the partial rhymes )

It's homework Neville!
Almost anything goes mate.
But I still like this one.

Cheers

Terry

Oh yes, Neville!

An economy of words producing maximum impact! I like it too!

Regards
Shelley