WANDJINA

WANDJINA

Maureen Clifford © The Scribbly Bark Poet

The days before were hot and dry, the months before as well.

At times a bank of clouds appeared -but just as quickly disappeared

a misted mauve light bathed the land and in the paddock he would stand

talking to ghosts with spirit voices – not one bloke down here rejoices

we are walking dark pathways all leading straight to hell.

Long days continued hot and dry with no relief in sight.

He watched his money disappear along with hope and now his fear

was soon that he would lose it all and that would no way be his call.

He struggled daily with these things, perhaps his thoughts had paper wings…

 his night-time dreams offered  no rest and little in respite.

The land wilted beneath the heat, and now paddocks were bare.

Dark spirits from primordial times were in each rock and tree,

he felt himself held in their arms.  Land – you belong to me

and though clouds came to tantalize not one drop fell from out the skies -

he saw grey cloud crevasses drifting by on the thin air.

He now recalled his father’s voice – it rains at end of drought.

He rubbed the sacred rain stone on a boulder ancestors had known

and drew the dreamtime serpents curves in dust, the rituals he observed.

He threw his boomerang up high to cut the clouds and let the sky

release the rain.  But had they heard?  An element of doubt.

That night he slept a dreamless sleep, beaten and out of choices.

And in the distance thunder rolled, the hot air cooled, the night turned cold.

The gum leaves rustled, turned their faces as the storm fronts wind outpaces

rain that fell vertically down to parched earths arms, dusty and brown;

as he slept on exhausted, soothed in sleep by spirit voices.

HEADING FOR THE CHOP

Heading for the Chop

Maureen Clifford ©  The Scribbly Bark Poet

It appears that sadly the time is coming when this beauty will be saying her goodbyes and it is with regret I have to say.  She is an old girl, grown spindly and leggy, who has a hissy fit every time the wind blows a bit harder than normal, and throws her branches down willy- nilly.  I am in fear for my neighbours chooks, whose grandiose villa rests beneath her shade.

I've tried taming this girl, had her pruned a few times at great cost, but she sprouts away again in rampant fury, and comes back taller and crankier than before.  I can see her ending her days mulched and scattered to feed her mates - those she outgrew and then selfishly robbed of light and nutriments. But she has had a kind side.  Her lacy leaves grow in abundance, the sheer weight of her greenery adding to the burden of her brittle boughs. She is resplendent in summer in her rich robes of green and purple.  She is truly a regal queen this old Jacaranda tree. When winter comes and she sheds her green garb, they supply a thick layer of mulch to the more tender and delicate plants growing in the understory where they have been protected from harsh rain and hail and hot sun by her leaves.

There were many days when I also took advantage of her shade.  Hours spent lazing, reading a book beneath her purple cape, but she took umbrage at my slothfulness and hurled a wooden spear in my direction.  I can no longer trust her to behave.

I wonder if she suspects that this winter will likely be the winter of her discontent.

LETS  PLANT  A  JACARANDA   
  Maureen Clifford  ©  The Scribbly Bark Poet

Life tends to go full circle, and I ‘m back here once again

after drifting forty years from town to town.

Driving past my old home, the one that we once shared

my Jacaranda I see wears her purple gown.

The purple blossom softly drifts across the lawn and walls

and creates a carpet shaded blue and green.

When  planted  as a sapling it was slender frail and small,

but now she’s beautiful, a regal Queen.

They say that life will always go full circle given time.

I lived here once with love and family.

But now that moments gone, kids have grown and loves moved on.

Feels like time to plant a Jacaranda tree.

Though I may not live long enough to sit beneath its shade

watching as purple blossoms softly fall.

Still my memories return across bridges now long burned

and forty years seems like no time at all.

So I’ll plant a Jacaranda tree tomorrow

Plant it gently, with my hopes and secret vows.

For memories are recalled as Jacaranda blossoms fall

‘neath the green and lacy canopy of boughs.

Delighted with this issue of TAT Poetry - thanks to my Poetry friends it is chock a block full of some great poetry and a fabulous front cover courtesy of Miss Grey Photographyhttp://www.theaustraliatimes.com/emagazines/poetry/issue211/

NEARLY ONE YEAR OLD

Well our TAT stable of magazines will have their first anniversary in June 2014 and hasn't that time flown by.

I am so privileged to have been a part of it since its inception.  I hold the position of the Editor for The Australia Times Poetry Magazine, and I have loved doing it.  I like to think my old Grandad would be proud of me.  He too was an Editor for very many years back in the UK and he was also a poet and from the few (very few)  pieces of his work still remaining, he was pretty good.

Here is our 2nd issue for May - I do hope you enjoy it.  http://www.theaustraliatimes.com/emagazines/poetry/issue210/#p=1

Some fabulous work in this edition

The current issue of TAT Poetry - and how the time has flown, where have the last 12 months gone?  I am so happy to be producing this magazine - every edition is an absolute labour of love for me.

http://www.theaustraliatimes.com/emagazines/poetry/issue209/

A PRICE TOO HIGH

A PRICE TOO HIGH 

Maureen Clifford © The Scribbly Bark Poet 02/13 

When the fair came to town there was music and laughter,

and bright dodgem cars and the carousel swings;

bright pink  fairy floss, hot dogs, strawberry ice creams

and horses and chickens and other great things.

And lost in the noise and the madness and mayhem

stood one grubby urchin with tears on his face;

a little boy lost in the crowds of the funfair

who wanted his mother, and out of this place.

When the fair came to town there were flags all a- waving

and cries of ’hurrah!’ and loud cheers from the town.

The men marched right proudly in perfect formation

all ready to fight for king, country and crown.

And lost in the noise and the madness and mayhem

a heartbroken Mother sobbed soft in despair,

for though she was proud of those fine men before her

‘twas her only boy who she watched marching there.

Now the fair came to town for the war drums were silent

and cries of ‘hurrah!’  rang out over the square.

The band played, the crowd cheered, the men marched, not briskly

but somewhat more ragged and bowed down with care.

And lost in the noise and the madness and mayhem

with ticker tape fluttering down from the sky,

one thin wraithlike figure was pushed in a wheelchair;

he’d only one leg now, and only one eye.

His last time at the fair he had stood hale and hearty,

so worried  his mother would be left alone,

for there was no other to care for this woman;

whose husband was killed at the Battle of Somme .

And sitting ‘midst noise and the madness and mayhem

was one damaged urchin who’d never more roam;

now pushed like a babe once again by his Mother

who stood tall and proud as she took her boy home.

SAVE A HORSE

If you know anyone who might be interested please share this post.  If you have ever considered taking a horse from the muster, there is still time to save a horse

Apply Now to Save a Wild Kaimanawa Horse

Applications for adopting a Kaimanawa horse from the 2014 muster will close on April 30th.

http://kaimanawaheritagehorses.org/2014/03/04/apply-now-to-save-a-wild-kaimanawa-horse/

Applications to take Wild Kaimanawa horses from this years muster are closing on the 30th April.  Application forms and further information can be found on http://kaimanawaheritagehorses.org/ 

Kaimanawa horses are destined for slaughter and 120 lives will be lost from this year’s Department of Conservation muster.  180 Kaimanawa horses are to be removed in the muster and the Kaimanawa Heritage Horses Welfare Society is seeking suitable homes as an alternative to the horses going to slaughter.

The official count from the aerial census conducted by DoC in March indicates there are 469 Kaimanawa horses within the designated management zone and another 38 horses outside of the area. It is estimated that 393 of the horses within the zone are adults and 76 are juveniles. DoC is responsible for maintaining the wild horse population at 300 horses The Kaimanawa Heritage Horses Welfare Society works closely with DoC to rehome as many of the wild horses as possible but those that don’t find homes, go direct to slaughter.

Kaimanawa horses have shot to fame in equestrian circles since the last muster in 2012. They’ve earned their celebrity status by proving both trainable and talented. Some that were mustered and rehomed in 2012 are already out competing and winning in open competition. These horses have inspired a number of discerning horse owners to consider taking the plunge and adopting a wild horse but many more homes are needed for the 180 stallions, mares and foals that will otherwise be trucked straight to the abattoir from the muster in late May.

Kaimanawa Heritage Horses commits to taking on all of the unplaced foals and yearlings, but horses as young as two years and everything older, are all facing the abattoir unless more homes are found. Kaimanawa Heritage Horses have applications for approximately 60 of the 180 horses but need to more than double that number, in less than 2 weeks.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=khZP2hKSXvk