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Open Poetry #40
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PEBBLES
Member
since 2006-10-30
Posts 69
South Australia, Australia

0 posted 2007-02-01 11:34 AM



      
The wind howled, exploding with a sweltering blast
stripping trees bare, flattening bleached grass.
Rivers and lakes turned to sand that year,
hardship, heartache, no relief from embered air.


Stock roamed disorientated in dust and swelter,
despairing heads low, hope lost for water an
shelter.
Birds suffocated in the floundering air,
from the sky they fell their eyes a blank stare.


A holocaust hungry with devouring greed
in deadly silence with sickening speed
the firestorm destroyed all in its path
sparing nothing from natures tortured wrath.


The blaze came so fast no alert could sound
horses, cows and sheep no safety found.
Terrified wildlife some singed and black
cowed below gasping trees beside the corrugated
track.


The word soon spread ‘ from your houses flee
make your way to the 'Bull' for your own safety’.
So they come exhausted standing line upon line.
the doorway was so narrow, entry,two at a time.


Grime covered farmers and families come from their land,
young executives, fashionable girls in pretty dresses,frightened and anxious, stand.
The traveller, the punter in muted conversation
the bartender face ruddy with fear and perspiration.


Dusty dogs led their masters through the swing doors
marking their spot, squatting on all fours soiling old patchwork carpets thread bare and worn
barely protecting the gnarly and knotted cypress pine floor.


Devastation and hopelessness was overwhelming but
with faith, unity and safety there was no
complaining
commiseration, conversation flowed as the beer ran free,
outside the smoke haze descended as far as one could see.


It was a stinker as day turned to night
flys and mosquitoes invaded with no respite,
much swatting and slapping, of arms and faces cursing a must,
and in a minute, the glasses were full of dust


The congregating people filled the rooms.
There was much about the 'Bull' to appreciate through the gloom.
Doors, walls with autographs from people of dubious fame,
beer bottle tops decorated door and window frames.


Cedar sideboard and gilt mirrors added grace
but the covered pool table had pride of place.
Kerosene lamps long lit stated to fade,
children in mother arms grew restless, hungry,  afraid.


Sketches on a wall with a ‘Bull Theme,   appropriate at the time,
of a Bull cornering a cow and the caption ‘Inescapabull’, repeated on a sign.
On the roof of the pub was a tower the highest point in town.
From here anxious eyes scanned the distant bush, creasing faces into permanent frowns.


Pigeons left unmolested on the roof for many years.
Suddenly, aware of smoke, ash and heat became delirious with fear.
They flew into windows and walls breaking feathers and wings.
People stood silent and prayed for rain and the
relief it would bring.


Wood and paint cracked, blistered on the pubs roof and veranda,
stripping away the majestic Victorian splender.
Suddenly the call they were all waiting for,
‘Its safe, you can go home now’ they heard as they rushed out the door.


Everyone was grateful to have survived
they raised their eyes to the sullen sky.
They thought of the Pub that gave shelter from fires
and they thought about the bar that became an island in a sea of dust and flies.


The farmer returned to his land, to what had become the impossible dream
and was heard to say,’ no human can live hear, the Ghost Gum and the Kangaroos reign supreme.
Birds whistled and nestled in charred crooks of blackened trees the ferocious wind fallen to a lazy, languid breeze.


Slowly, gradually the bush babies reappeared
wallabies, rabbits, bats, foxes even Koala’s dared.
The stars vied for glory in the black velvet
bush night
The monstrous speckled orb glowed, spilling over night animals and blackened earth, eerie, silver moonlight.


Folklore has it, stories about the day the
bush fires came to town
are readily available if you by the next round.
But the price was high, memories are long and the wounds to deep,
so the truths will stay within the 'Bulls' walls, its secrets to keep.


Time goes by, the 'Bull' welcomes guests, wearing its new coat of many colours.
People remember the night when strangers  became united as sisters and brothers,
As they have one maybe two for the road and shake hands,
they all agree, long live the 'Bull', Grandest Pub in the land.

       H.L.


‘THE BULL IS TAME SO FEAR HIM NOT,
SO LONG AS YOU CAN PAY YOURE SHOT,
WHEN MONEY’S GONE AND CREDIT’S BAD,
THAT’S WHAT MAKES THE BULL GO MAD.’


© Copyright 2007 HelenIL - All Rights Reserved
Lady In White
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Member Elite
since 2001-02-12
Posts 2799
USA
1 posted 2007-02-02 07:42 AM



Your land is an amazing tribute
to survival of the strong...

for one has to be emotionally
and mentally strong, to bear
the trials.

Well done!  Welcome to Passions!


LeeJ
Member Patricius
since 2003-06-19
Posts 13296

2 posted 2007-02-02 12:30 PM


amazing...this explored both the dark side of human exisitance, faith and collective joy, renew, birth....

marvelous read and write...

Welcome to PIP!!!!!  What an entrance

Bravo!!!!

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