Monday, 25 August 2014


Maureen Clifford © The Scribbly Bark Poet

He dreamt of growing big and tall
 and travelling from town to town
and riding on a bucking horse
 with cheering shouting crowds around.
He dreamt of silver buckles bright
 with shiny spurs and fancy shirts,
old showgrounds where the dirt was red 
and hard packed.  Wondered - Did it hurt
when one was thrown onto the ground 
from off a bull or bucking horse?
He thought it would but he was tough  -
 a little pain par for the course.

He rode his pony made of wood 
around the paddock all day long
His Dad had promised him a pony,
 soon as he was big and strong
which should be soon ‘cause he was four 
and he had grown an inch this year
he'd also ridden Grandpa’s horse
 and never felt a bit of fear.

He knew the horse he wanted, 
a  sweet little mare coloured steel gray
with three white socks and soft dark eyes 
who he  had fed sweet lucerne hay.
Her name was Silver Sovereign -
 he’d told his Dad she was the one
and Dad had just said ‘ wait and see,
 after the Rodeo my son.’
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