LOST
Posted: Tue Nov 09, 2010 10:34 am
Lost
© Mal McLean
The stockmen had come to the rise in the plain
by the light of the early dawn.
They’d come there to search for the child who was lost
and pray for the parents who mourn.
Some came there on horseback, some riding on bikes
and some carried by four wheel drive;
they had come there to find the child who was lost
with hope they would find him alive.
The Inspector came out with ten mounted men
who were known and tried on the land
and set up his post in the lee of the house
from where he would take his command.
The orange clad folk of the state volunteers
all hustled and bustled like bees
and as the first rays shook the gloom from the plain
the searchers moved off through the trees.
Some folk went to search in the paddocks and scrub
and some searched by roads and fences.
They all went to look for the little boy lost,
but few held any pretenses.
Some men went to drag in the brown murky dams
and some went to search in the creeks;
the land had lain dry through the longest of droughts
but by then it had rained for weeks.
The sun had grown hot by the noon of that day
yet no sign of the boy was found.
The current was strong in the plentiful creeks
and they feared that the lad had drowned.
The afternoon wore both the spirit and flesh
and hope was near faded by five,
when the radios crackled a frenzied burst,
“The little boy lost is alive!”
The little lad lost was alive and was well!
The searchers were whooping with joy!
His parents succumbed when they heard of the news
and cried for the life of their boy.
The seasons have passed for that little lad lost
and he stands a man on that ground
and never forgets what was done for him then,
for once he was lost, and then found.
-------------------------000000000000000000------------------------
I still have some work to do on the rhythm, but it's getting there.
I have made a good recovery from my depressive illness but then I had a heart turn.....sigh....which accounts for my lack of productivity. Should be back firing on all four heart cylinders in a month or two.
I must say that the standard of poetry on the forum is really excellent and I am enjoying catching up on recent posts.
Preserve the Culture
Mal
© Mal McLean
The stockmen had come to the rise in the plain
by the light of the early dawn.
They’d come there to search for the child who was lost
and pray for the parents who mourn.
Some came there on horseback, some riding on bikes
and some carried by four wheel drive;
they had come there to find the child who was lost
with hope they would find him alive.
The Inspector came out with ten mounted men
who were known and tried on the land
and set up his post in the lee of the house
from where he would take his command.
The orange clad folk of the state volunteers
all hustled and bustled like bees
and as the first rays shook the gloom from the plain
the searchers moved off through the trees.
Some folk went to search in the paddocks and scrub
and some searched by roads and fences.
They all went to look for the little boy lost,
but few held any pretenses.
Some men went to drag in the brown murky dams
and some went to search in the creeks;
the land had lain dry through the longest of droughts
but by then it had rained for weeks.
The sun had grown hot by the noon of that day
yet no sign of the boy was found.
The current was strong in the plentiful creeks
and they feared that the lad had drowned.
The afternoon wore both the spirit and flesh
and hope was near faded by five,
when the radios crackled a frenzied burst,
“The little boy lost is alive!”
The little lad lost was alive and was well!
The searchers were whooping with joy!
His parents succumbed when they heard of the news
and cried for the life of their boy.
The seasons have passed for that little lad lost
and he stands a man on that ground
and never forgets what was done for him then,
for once he was lost, and then found.
-------------------------000000000000000000------------------------
I still have some work to do on the rhythm, but it's getting there.
I have made a good recovery from my depressive illness but then I had a heart turn.....sigh....which accounts for my lack of productivity. Should be back firing on all four heart cylinders in a month or two.
I must say that the standard of poetry on the forum is really excellent and I am enjoying catching up on recent posts.
Preserve the Culture
Mal
