PHANTOM RIDER
© Tom McILveen
Winner, 2024 Bronze Swagman Award, Winton, Queensland.
In the foothills of Uralla, somewhere south of Armidale,
there’s a set of stones that stand beside the road.
They have stood for fifty thousand years above the lonely trail,
and have offered many travellers abode.
When the moon is full, a shadow creeps along the trail at night,
on a ghostly steed, unreined and free to run.
As it nears The Stones, the silhouette converges with the light,
and then disappears into the rising sun.
But an eerie presence lingers long beyond the break of dawn,
and it loiters like an unforgotten sin...
and although the phantom rider and his ghostly steed have gone,
there is still a presence lingering within.
If you listen very carefully, you’ll hear a haunting sound,
and you’ll realise that you are not alone.
As your mind begins to wander, and your heart begins to pound,
you may hear a voice from deep within the stone.
“I’m the shadow that appears before the moon begins to wane,
and I speak for those whose spirits linger here.
There is one who comes alone at night, to ride the trail again –
as he did in glory days of yesteryear.
He was once a noted bushranger – notorious in fact,
(or at least that’s what the local legends say).
And although the dice were loaded and the odds against him stacked,
he could always find another card to play.
He had come from hardy convict stock, who’d known the guilt and shame
of a sin that lingers long beyond its time...
and although his tainted pedigree was probably to blame –
he was destined to pursue a life of crime.
He was christened Fred’rick Wordsworth Ward, as if to compensate
for a lack of kin and English pedigree...
but despite his fancy name he soon was drawn towards his fate –
like a moth towards a flame he cannot see.
It began with stolen station stock, a head or two at first -
he would drove a mob and single out a few.
He was just another wayward lad, a petty thief at worst,
till they locked him up in Sydney’s ‘Cockatoo’.
It was there the Devil taught him how to roll a loaded dice,
and to doubt what every righteous man believes.
It was there he learnt the ancient art of wickedness and vice,
in a prison filled with murderers and thieves.
When he’d flown the coop from Cockatoo he’d felt a burning yen
to be freed of iron cuffs and prison bars.
So he made a vow that they would never take him back again –
and he swore it to the rising moon and stars.
When the gods that favoured bushrangers had heard his silent plea,
they had granted him asylum from The Law.
But the freedom he was seeking wasn’t ever meant to be,
and was destined to be sought for evermore.
For they hounded him from Sydney Town to northern New South Wales,
and then southward down across The Great Divide,
till he’d lost them in the mountains through the long and winding trails,
where a bushman could just disappear and hide.
They were troopers from the city and were useless in the scrub,
and were mostly non-colonial and green.
They were more inclined to patronise the tavern or the pub –
than to hunt some fleeting ghost they’d never seen.
As he ventured north, he’d suddenly decided on a whim,
to adopt a more extraordinary name.
So he’d chosen Captain Thunderbolt, a fitting pseudonym,
for achieving notoriety and fame.
As the legend grew, his name would soon become immortalised
in the sacred scrolls of history’s elite...
and the scribes that once rejected him had duly recognised
that his destiny was finally complete.
It was here beside The Stones, The Captain made his final stand,
in the marshy reeds along Kentucky Creek.
It was here the famous bushranger had played his final hand,
in a brutal, fatal game of hide and seek.
T’was a trooper from Uralla who had dealt the final card
from a scene befitting such an epilogue.
He had found the wily bushranger alone and off his guard,
and had shot him down as though a rabid dog.”
When the moon is full, a shadow creeps along the trail at night,
on a ghostly steed, unreined and free to run.
As it nears The Stones a thunderbolt converges with the light
and then disappears into the rising sun.
Return to 2024 Award-Winning Poetry.
Terms of Use
All rights reserved.
The entire contents of the poetry in the collection on this site
is copyright. Copyright for each individual poem remains with
the poet. Therefore no poem or poems in this collection may be
reproduced, performed, read aloud to any audience at any time,
stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by
any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or
otherwise without prior written permission of the individual
poet.
Return to 2024 Award-Winning Poetry.