RED
- Maureen K Clifford
- Posts: 8175
- Joined: Tue Nov 09, 2010 10:31 am
- Location: Ipswich - Paul Pisasale country and home of the Ipswich Poetry Feast
- Contact:
RED
RED
There’s a blood red road 'neath a blood red moon, winding past the bloodwood trees
and it winds along in its own sweet time and it leads to where it leads.
There’s a plume of dust reaching to the skies as the old Ute bucks and skids
on the gravel road , corrugated deep , a mere track, for goats and kids.
Where the gum tree leaves hanging limp and grey, turn red ‘neath the rising sun
and their coat of dust adds a tinge of rust, left behind on this outback run.
Here the shadows cast by their stark grey boughs seem to almost duck and weave
as the Ute rolls under the dome of sky, that turns red as the moon takes leave.
There’s a taste that mingles with the dust, bitter aftertaste of despair
for the rains have ceased and there’s no release from the worry or the care.
With the paddocks dry and the stock long gone and the creek just stagnant pools
it’s a bloody shame but this farming game seems is for the rich or fools.
He had done his best, as had all the rest, every leaf they’d overturned.
He had lost the lot, and the gains he’d got, Mother Nature had now spurned.
With a mind confused, nothing else to lose, he had one last hand to play.
There’s a blood red pool, ‘neath a bloodwood tree and a life just ebbs away.
Maureen Clifford © The Scribbly Bark Poet
There’s a blood red road 'neath a blood red moon, winding past the bloodwood trees
and it winds along in its own sweet time and it leads to where it leads.
There’s a plume of dust reaching to the skies as the old Ute bucks and skids
on the gravel road , corrugated deep , a mere track, for goats and kids.
Where the gum tree leaves hanging limp and grey, turn red ‘neath the rising sun
and their coat of dust adds a tinge of rust, left behind on this outback run.
Here the shadows cast by their stark grey boughs seem to almost duck and weave
as the Ute rolls under the dome of sky, that turns red as the moon takes leave.
There’s a taste that mingles with the dust, bitter aftertaste of despair
for the rains have ceased and there’s no release from the worry or the care.
With the paddocks dry and the stock long gone and the creek just stagnant pools
it’s a bloody shame but this farming game seems is for the rich or fools.
He had done his best, as had all the rest, every leaf they’d overturned.
He had lost the lot, and the gains he’d got, Mother Nature had now spurned.
With a mind confused, nothing else to lose, he had one last hand to play.
There’s a blood red pool, ‘neath a bloodwood tree and a life just ebbs away.
Maureen Clifford © The Scribbly Bark Poet
Check out The Scribbly Bark Poets blog site here -
http://scribblybarkpoetry.blogspot.com.au/
I may not always succeed in making a difference, but I will go to my grave knowing I at least tried.
http://scribblybarkpoetry.blogspot.com.au/
I may not always succeed in making a difference, but I will go to my grave knowing I at least tried.
- Gary Harding
- Posts: 714
- Joined: Sat Oct 12, 2013 3:26 pm
- Location: Hervey Bay, Qld (ex Victorian)
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Re: RED
That's an excellent piece of writing Maureen. What vivid imagery you capture! Also concise... and it tells an interesting story! well done!
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Re: RED
Hey, I like that Maureen-appeals to me more each time I read it. Well done.
On that last line "and a life just ebbs away" somehow I keep wanting to say "where a life just ebbs away". Maybe its just me.
Cheers
Sue
On that last line "and a life just ebbs away" somehow I keep wanting to say "where a life just ebbs away". Maybe its just me.

Cheers
Sue
the door is always open, the kettles always on, my shoulders here to cry on, i'll not judge who's right or wrong.
- Maureen K Clifford
- Posts: 8175
- Joined: Tue Nov 09, 2010 10:31 am
- Location: Ipswich - Paul Pisasale country and home of the Ipswich Poetry Feast
- Contact:
Re: RED
Wow indeed - thanks everyone for those responses - for an elbow poem that's amazing




Check out The Scribbly Bark Poets blog site here -
http://scribblybarkpoetry.blogspot.com.au/
I may not always succeed in making a difference, but I will go to my grave knowing I at least tried.
http://scribblybarkpoetry.blogspot.com.au/
I may not always succeed in making a difference, but I will go to my grave knowing I at least tried.