ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

Thought the poem below was worth posting here for a couple of reasons. Firstly, it ties in with Vic’s observations in his "National Disaster" post about his trip up north. And secondly, it’s one of the few occasions when I’ve had success in an open competition (one which accepts any form of poetry) with some rhyming verse. Early this year it won the Adelaide Plains Poets’ competition (the theme was “Climate”). And a key reason for that was the fact that Shelley, who has a great understanding of, and appreciation for, both forms of verse, was the judge! So if you’re interested in entering competitions it’s still worth submitting rhyming verse outside the usual boundaries.

Cheers
David

The Boneyard

He calls it “the boneyard”, this desolate place
where drought-ravaged stock search in vain for a trace
of feed that will keep them alive one more day…
but death is the terrible price they will pay.

Yet that is not all, for the agony tells
on both man and beast in this hottest of hells
where mitchell grass bleached to the whiteness of snow
remains with the gidgee as all that will grow.

The wet has not come to the Gulf Country’s soil,
and nothing is left for those hard years of toil,
a tragedy born of the weather’s extremes,
that shatters all hope and destroys any dreams.

The cattle that wander these desolate plains
depend on the regular monsoonal rains,
but they have now failed; as the days drift on by
the sun hammers down from a cloudless blue sky.

The few that can walk straggle out from the shade,
so thin and exhausted, a ghastly parade
of animals starving and very near death,
while some just lie prone and await their last breath.

With those that collapse, simply too weak to stand,
he knows there’s no chance unless he lends a hand
with chains as a cradle to take all the weight,
but, sadly, his efforts are often too late.

And then there’s no option but fetching his gun
and killing them off while the merciless sun
is mocking the future he thought lay ahead,
that now, like his cattle, is lying there dead.

This story’s repeated up north far and wide…
it devastates lives and obliterates pride.
The dams are all dry and the bushfires still burn,
while people must weep as the slow seasons turn.

The bones that lie scattered, picked clean in the dust,
are symbols of loss, a betrayal of trust,
the end of so much that the land had in store
which nature determines will now be no more.

The rifle-shots echo, one more epitaph
for those that have fallen, a cow and her calf,
and that, in the silence, is all that is heard…
a eulogy sounding with no spoken word.

© David Campbell, 2015

A lovely poem David, and a harsh reality of what nature can deploy.
Trish

Thanks, Trish!

You surely have captured the harsh reality of it David

Drought is heartbreaking because you are so helpless against it. I thought I would never see rain or grass again when we had 12 years of it in Victoria (just prior to Black Saturday). Let's hope rain comes sooner than that in QLD.

Heather

G/day David
We ran into a terrible drought up on the Ashburton a few years back,
it was quite confronting with all the dead and dying cattle and little or nothing could be done to help them.
We were on Ashburton Downs at the time prospecting and it seemed that we were surrounded by death.
Water was no problem; there just simply wasn't anything left to eat.
As sad as it is, it certainly gives a poet a chance to depict the harsh side of life in the out back.

Congratulations on your win.

Terry

Dear David - I can only reiterate the excellence of this poem - faultless in its structure and compelling in its depiction of the harsh realities of drought. Of course when I judged the competition I had no idea it was yours - but it was certainly a standout winner. After reading it I had to suspend judging and make a cup of tea - and sit for a while to absorb the power of what I'd just read.

For the benefit of our ABPA friends, in this open competition there were far more free verse entries than there were rhyming verse - about 6/1 ratio. I approached the judging with an open mind and no preconceived ideas. I was simply prepared to award prizes to those entries I considered the best - whatever the style of the writing.

What really surprised me was that so many of the rhyming poems were poorly structured and incorrectly rhymed. Some of them had really good potential, but I simply had to place them on the "discard" pile because of their obvious errors. A pity when just a bit more care and attention could have made them winners. I gave the remaining prizes to free verse poems - very good ones.

A really pleasing aspect was the quality of the entries in the primary school section of the competition. I hope that these kids are given the necessary encouragement to pursue their interest and become talented poets of the future.

So I can only agree - don't be put off by the "open" competition banner - good rhymed verse can still win! The very first poetry prize I won in 2011 was the FAW Cherry Festival Open Poetry Award - with a rhyming poem.

Thanks for posting, David - I'm sure everyone will appreciate your poem as I do.

Cheers, Shelley

David.
Thank you once again for another superb effort. What a way with words you have.
And thank you Shelley for judging with an open mind.

Cheers
Val W

Maureen, Heather, Terry, Shelley and Val…thank you for the responses. Memories of severe drought have faded a little down here in those parts of Victoria (not all parts, mind you!) where the dams are again full, so we need reminding of the devastating conditions ‘up north’ where banks are foreclosing on properties and people are losing the work of generations. Families are being torn apart.

Shelley’s observation about the 6:1 ratio of free verse to rhyming verse matches my own experience when judging open competitions. It’s hard to see our poetry gaining a higher profile if that ratio continues. I also understand Shelley’s reference to the faults with many of the rhyming poems that were submitted…that’s par for the course. For some unknown reason, the very necessary extra care and attention to detail is often missing, and good ideas hit the reject pile because of poor execution.

As a matter of interest, The Boneyard was previously entered in two bush poetry competitions without any success whatsoever…which is why it ended up in an open competition.

Cheers
David

Would the reason be that the parameters of writing Rhyming poetry are a lot harder to get just right ?


Bob