BATHURST
Posted: Sat Feb 27, 2016 1:06 pm
The Bathurst 1000 is a 1,000-kilometre touring car race held annually on the Mount Panorama Circuit in Bathurst, New South Wales, Australia. It is currently run as a championship event for V8 Supercar and at Easter - motorbikes...
BATHURST ... Maureen Clifford © The #ScribblyBark Poet
They followed the roads - long black bitumen ribbons
cluttered with rev heads and noisy as hell,
where motorbikes roared by - their sound high in decibels
and tyres burning rubber as chequered flags fell.
Above a deep blue sky was littered with cloud shapes;
that drifted like lambs in a paddock to graze
and the beauty of nature was written in colour
but tainted by smell and a smoked exhaust haze.
With no time to spare the bikes, weaved and wobbled
with riders like limpets clinging to their frame,
laying down on corners, their leather toes dragging
impossible to think they'd get up again.
And off in the distance were hills silhouetted,
trees sentinel straight - endless ridges of pine
tall and dark, as they marched along each ridge and furrow
where golden stone captured the warmth over time.
Up there all was peaceful - one fallen leaf fluttered
to ground as the sunrise burnt off nighttime mist
and somewhere an ancient Kookaburra muttered
and cackled to himself as he kept morn's tryst.
And whilst man below was enthralled with the driving,
and racing and roaring. polluting the air.
Up here in the hills all was just as it should be,
a calm green oasis - far from worldly care.
BATHURST ... Maureen Clifford © The #ScribblyBark Poet
They followed the roads - long black bitumen ribbons
cluttered with rev heads and noisy as hell,
where motorbikes roared by - their sound high in decibels
and tyres burning rubber as chequered flags fell.
Above a deep blue sky was littered with cloud shapes;
that drifted like lambs in a paddock to graze
and the beauty of nature was written in colour
but tainted by smell and a smoked exhaust haze.
With no time to spare the bikes, weaved and wobbled
with riders like limpets clinging to their frame,
laying down on corners, their leather toes dragging
impossible to think they'd get up again.
And off in the distance were hills silhouetted,
trees sentinel straight - endless ridges of pine
tall and dark, as they marched along each ridge and furrow
where golden stone captured the warmth over time.
Up there all was peaceful - one fallen leaf fluttered
to ground as the sunrise burnt off nighttime mist
and somewhere an ancient Kookaburra muttered
and cackled to himself as he kept morn's tryst.
And whilst man below was enthralled with the driving,
and racing and roaring. polluting the air.
Up here in the hills all was just as it should be,
a calm green oasis - far from worldly care.
