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Posted: Mon Oct 01, 2018 5:13 pm
by Maureen K Clifford
WORDSMITH OF THE BUSH ... Maureen Clifford © The #ScribblyBark Poet

Grey wood-smoke wreathed a halo 'round the kids, sat near the fire
toasting marshmallow on long sticks. Dressed in their night attire
of pyjamas warm and RM boots and wool socks thick and cosy,
outside the tent, where soon they'd rest. Young cheeks were getting rosy
from the heat of the fires burning logs - old ironbark, aged and weathered.
And they heard the reassuring sounds of four horses all tethered
underneath a gum trees shelter - where a boobook had his nest
with young fledgings, always hungry - neither owl now got much rest.

Now the old bloke he recited tales from Banjo and the Bard
he told them tales of romance, and told how years were hard
for farmers on the land in this harsh, brown wide country
and Dorothea Mackellar's poem spoke of a jewelled sea.
"Tomorrow is National Poetry Day" he told them with a smile
"and poetry is nothing new - it's been round quite a while,
it's just these days most folks don't read or enjoy poetry
which I think is quite sad for its been a solace to me.

Your Gran - God love her - had the knack of stringing words together,
we'd often sit in our bush camp and versify together
and if you have a love of poetry deep in your heart
you'll always hear the music, and you'll always be a part
of nature and this country - beyond what we all know,
for you will tap the very soul of Mother Earth below.
And that will be a happy choice and your meaningful chatter
will spread the word to others - and let them know it matters."

The kids held warm affection for this bloke with earnest looks
who had entertained them for an hour without the help of books.
They noticed he'd a dreaming eye - his life of solitude
was softened by his memories and poetry set the mood.
An unassuming country bloke with little vanity
but oh so easy to see how he enjoyed poetry.
He spread damper with Cocky's joy and handed out hot cocoa
then said "It's time for bed - we must be in Dubbo by smoko."


Posted: Mon Oct 01, 2018 5:36 pm
by Shelley
Aha! Damper and Cocky's Joy ... there's nothing quite like it!

Good word picture, Maureen.


Posted: Tue Oct 02, 2018 9:55 am
by Terry
G/day Maureen

Your poem brings back a few memories of my younger days, when poetry was still often talked about and even recited.
while even at school I was fortunate enough to have learnt poetry as part of our English lessons.
It was always rhyming poetry as well with all the well know poets to the fore.
Another interesting thing I've noticed is that most of the old timers I met out bush had a good knowledge of poetry,
indeed many had secretly scribbled a bit of their own. (including myself).
Go into any old bush pub in those days and it wasn't unusual to hear a few lines being recited once the amber fluid started flowing.

More's the pity that it has almost died out these days - a bit like the old Australia - and the old Australians come to that.

Cheers Terry


Posted: Wed Oct 03, 2018 11:52 am
by Maureen K Clifford
Thank you Shelley and Terry for reading and commenting :D I agree with you Terry - it is IMO very sad that our schools (most) no longer have poetry as part of their curriculum, especially when so much of our poetry contains our history. It will only get worse as we oldies pop our clogs for soon there will be none that can tell the old stories and yarns, and few of the younger ones who even want to. Such is life :roll: