I AM THE LAND

[Maureen K Clifford]

I have reworked this one a bit - it was on the old site and got lost. Have redone it as a video clip if you are interested here is the link

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DJ2IcgcVfbs




I AM THE LAND - THE LAND IS ME


He stands. So dark and brooding, tall and strong as Ironbark tree.
Relaxed , he rests one broad foot up against his other knee.
He waits , a silhouette against a pewter coloured sky.
As slowly the moon rises and he hears a Mirri* cry.
His spearhead 's made of flint he's knapped and fastened to a haft.
Xanthorrhea spike fire hardened to a straight and sturdy shaft.
He watches quiet and silent, standing 'neath the ghostly glow.
Sees the shine of moon on water in creek beds far below,
where biguun* drink. Suckers and Sows, black Boars with ivory tusk.
A Proud Owls' victim screeches as it's dispatched in the dusk.
He feels the barest breeze brush by as bats hunt on the wing.
Senses a snake in scrub nearby. Sinuous. Slithering .

Drifting across the moon, light clouds cause dark shadows to fall
cross plains and wooded hillsides, creeping down steep rocky walls.
Lantana tangled gullies all descending to the creek
where gidjirrigaa* seek water, and Pobblebonk gindjurra* speak.
Here where it's sheltered, tall Pandanus grow with water lilies.
The creek is full of yabbies and rich with yellow bellies.
Lone silent watcher of this land , maybe he's perceiving,
that old ones to watched from this place, long before the Dreaming.
Nowhere are camp fires flickering, there's just starlight up above.
Small fireflies hover...twinkleing...in their light dance of love.
His memories nostalgic fuse with night noises nocturnal.
His land now softly slumbers...guarding her secrets eternal.

He feels the music in his soul, songs of this ancient land.
No orchestra to play along..no pipe or marching band.
Percussion brilliantly enhanced and lightened by the breeze
tapping 'gainst old Pandanus trunks with long and stringy leaves.
The wind section is joining now, softly, sweetly invoked
by breezes gentle fingers soft, caressing the She Oaks.
For drums - hush now. Hear pounding? A mob of roos on the move.
Creek waters trickle softly , like a harps sweet interlude.
For resonance of Cello hear the water tumbling down.
Gurgling over rocks in a cacophony of sound.........
The sob and sigh of violins , always such sad refrain,
is courtesy of Nature and the hiss of monsoon rain.

Chorus and verse, Mirri* rehearse their eerie sad singing.
Silent hunters of the night their songs echoes are ringing.
The song of the gindjurra* drifts up from near the creek,
joins in with mellow tenor notes and baritone so deep.
Nature again plays ancient songs , he hears them as he stands.
He is the keeper of the stones and of these precious lands..
He stands alone surveying all the country that he sees .
Relaxed. He rests one broad foot up against his other knee.
He waits. A silhouette against a pewter coloured sky
as moon moves to its apex. Mother Earth will hear his cry.
I am the land , the land is me. Each rock, each creek, each tree.
I am the guardian of this land ...but this land , she owns me.

Maureen Clifford ©

Kamilaroi Language * biguun .. pig : gidgerrigaa ... budgerigah: gindjurra .. frog : mirri .. wild dog/dingo

[r.magnay]

G'day Maureen, you have used some very descriptive language here, I found it a bit hard to read on my first couple of goes though, I will have to come back to it later and see if I can pick up the rythme a bit better (probably in the morning when I am fresh and my mind is less cluttered) I can never figure out who does the translation from blackfella to whitefella when it comes to language.....biguun...pig? not sure that I am all that familiar with the 'native pig' they might have referred to! When I lived in SA all the country around was named after aboriginal names and they pretty much are spelt the way you would say them, I lived in Buckleboo which apparently means land of the death adder and is spoken as it is written....Buckle as in belt, and boo as in Casper the friendly ghost. Up here in the Territory everything is spelt in some ridiculous way with silent p's and t's and j's and m's and n's and all sorts of hyphens and stuff which doesn't even fit the english language! I was recently given an answer to the reasoning to all that, the German missionaries did the translation up here and so translated everything in the German version of English!....Bloody confusing isn't it? Anyway a very descriptive piece of writing mate I'll have another look at it tomorrow!

[r.magnay]

I just clicked on the lnk and had a listen Maureen...you sure have no trouble with it!.... great mate!

[Bellobazza]

G'day Maureen...
I loved it with the first reading. It has a slow, haunting feel to it. I reckon this is one of your very best. I'll go and have a listen shortly...I hope, I hope, I hope it has a low, droning didge in the background.

Cheers, Will.

[Jasper Brush]

G'day Maureen.

You are a genius.

What a poetry site we have here at ABPA.


The rendition of your poem was perfect.

I'm stunned.



John

[Maureen K Clifford]

Thanks gentlemen for your comments which are greatly appreciated. This is the piece I have chosen for the ABPA CD that we are getting together

I know it is the silly season and folks are busy but don't forget to remember to sort out what you will submit for this project. I just know it is going to be a winner.

Doesn't have to be a new piece but make it one that you know is the best you can offer - technically perfect it doesn't have to be - as an audio piece written from the heart and read by the poet it will shine in its own right.

Cheers

Maureen

[Terry]

G/day Maureen,
Just had a listen to this one, and once again it was brilliant. also a great selection of photo's and music.
I haven't had time to keep up with all the things that have been happening on the site, so was pleasantly surprised to see you and some others have organized to put out a Cd, good luck with it, hope it goes well for you as I'm sure it will.

Cheers terry