THEM'S THE RULES
Posted: Tue Mar 22, 2011 10:55 am
THEM’S THE RULES
They say that our bush poetry must have metre and rhyme
and that’s ok for ‘them’s the rules I follow’ most the time,
but it started me thinking, and now I sit and ponder
if bush poetry doesn’t rhyme is it still bushy? I wonder.
I quote here for example the point I’m trying to make.
The sibilant ‘S’ sounds of the bush are just like a Joe Blake
who slithers, or the noise that wind makes whispering through the pines.
Plus the moan and hiss of westerly winds as around hilltops they whine.
The bush today is beautiful, the wildflowers are in bloom
after the soaking rain which saturated the ground, and yet I notice
there is damage which nature will repair in due course
and cover so nary a scar remains to show where monsoon winds blew.
Bottlebrush bare their red blooms and lorikeets feast on their nectar.
Golden orbs of sweetness nestle stickily within the red toothbrush
type bristles of the flower...and bees too feast on this bounty,
a welcome refreshment to these tiny creatures who are always so busy.
Winged termites are getting ready to fly, to mate and start new colonies.
They seem eager to leave – silver wings fluttering – testing the breeze.
Soon they will swarm, relying on the wind to assist with the journey
for they are not natures best flyers. Soldier termites are on patrol.
There’s always a lot happening if you are in the bush
though you may have to watch closely, take it slow and quell the rush,
for if you charge ahead and ride ,rely on four wheeled power,
you will miss the tiny delicacy of the native bush flower.
Are you one who tramples carelessly across the fragile earth
oblivious of beauty offered? Do you discount all it’s worth?
This environment is fragile - sadly some eyes never see
the beauty all around them – miss the woods because of trees.
The dainty leptospermums froth and bubble and cascade
their white and pale pink blossoms in a glorious cavalcade
of five petaled fragile beauty, whilst a red kangaroo paw
stands with velvety soft flowers resembling a roos claw.
There’s lichen growing on the rocks and also on the trees
a silvery grey green fungus, which are not signs of disease.
They add colour, contrast, texture, and they help filter the air.
It’s been said if lichen’s growing – then pollution is not there.
But enough, for one could write for hours about the things one sees
and the question isn’t answered and perhaps will never be.
Maybe best to just go with the flow – no real answer I confess.
If you write rhyming Bush Poetry – or write of the bush – what’s best?
Maureen Clifford © 03/11
They say that our bush poetry must have metre and rhyme
and that’s ok for ‘them’s the rules I follow’ most the time,
but it started me thinking, and now I sit and ponder
if bush poetry doesn’t rhyme is it still bushy? I wonder.
I quote here for example the point I’m trying to make.
The sibilant ‘S’ sounds of the bush are just like a Joe Blake
who slithers, or the noise that wind makes whispering through the pines.
Plus the moan and hiss of westerly winds as around hilltops they whine.
The bush today is beautiful, the wildflowers are in bloom
after the soaking rain which saturated the ground, and yet I notice
there is damage which nature will repair in due course
and cover so nary a scar remains to show where monsoon winds blew.
Bottlebrush bare their red blooms and lorikeets feast on their nectar.
Golden orbs of sweetness nestle stickily within the red toothbrush
type bristles of the flower...and bees too feast on this bounty,
a welcome refreshment to these tiny creatures who are always so busy.
Winged termites are getting ready to fly, to mate and start new colonies.
They seem eager to leave – silver wings fluttering – testing the breeze.
Soon they will swarm, relying on the wind to assist with the journey
for they are not natures best flyers. Soldier termites are on patrol.
There’s always a lot happening if you are in the bush
though you may have to watch closely, take it slow and quell the rush,
for if you charge ahead and ride ,rely on four wheeled power,
you will miss the tiny delicacy of the native bush flower.
Are you one who tramples carelessly across the fragile earth
oblivious of beauty offered? Do you discount all it’s worth?
This environment is fragile - sadly some eyes never see
the beauty all around them – miss the woods because of trees.
The dainty leptospermums froth and bubble and cascade
their white and pale pink blossoms in a glorious cavalcade
of five petaled fragile beauty, whilst a red kangaroo paw
stands with velvety soft flowers resembling a roos claw.
There’s lichen growing on the rocks and also on the trees
a silvery grey green fungus, which are not signs of disease.
They add colour, contrast, texture, and they help filter the air.
It’s been said if lichen’s growing – then pollution is not there.
But enough, for one could write for hours about the things one sees
and the question isn’t answered and perhaps will never be.
Maybe best to just go with the flow – no real answer I confess.
If you write rhyming Bush Poetry – or write of the bush – what’s best?
Maureen Clifford © 03/11
