H'work w/e 18.7.19 - A YARD MADE OF MALLEE
Posted: Thu Jul 04, 2019 5:05 pm
A YARD MADE OF MALLEE ... Maureen Clifford © The #Scribbly Bark Poet
She was hungry and penniless, not without means
though to cash in her chips meant some time at 'Devenes'
which was not what she wanted, but hell she could do it
although in her later years doubtless she'd rue it ...
It was just a job, just a small space in time.
It wouldn't define her nor mess with her mind
lest she let it, and knowing herself to be smart,
she gave up her dreams and let go of her heart.
A circle of diamonds her hand didn't wear
and no soft chiffon veil was attached to her hair,
and the gown she had cherished of parchment and gold
hung unworn in her cupboard, as sweet love turned cold.
And the web that once bound her was tattered and torn
though the babe she held in her was cherished and warm.
She could sell her soul dearly and clearly she must
It would be just a job and in none would she trust.
She cast her mind back to the sweet hills of home,
that she'd left many years back to go it alone.
She'd succumbed to the stories and sweet lies he fed,
enamored and captured by love's golden thread,
which she realized now was a tissue of lies,
but too late, she had fallen, from grace - and the prize
disappeared just as quickly. Ah well - such is life
and it wasn't the first time that she'd been in strife.
She felt the babe moving, a fluttery dance,
and somewhere she recalled that a second chance
was an option that everyone deserved Mum said
and she wondered if perhaps that entered her head
as a sign. Should she risk it? Should she make a call?
And again that voice answered - "I won't let you fall"
So she took up her courage and shrugged off her pride
and spoke to her Mother. They both laughed and cried.
There's a yard made of mallee out there in the west,
with acres of blue sky and folks know they're blessed
to live close to nature, working side by side
with a mutual respect that won't be denied.
Here the distant horizon is free of the taint
of the big city precincts. A subtle restraint
which is calming and restful, lies over the land.
Here folks take the time to acknowledge God's hand
And painted in colours of parchment and gold
were the paddocks and wheat fields - a joy to behold,
where a little bloke rides on his Grandfathers knee
as he helps steer the tractor and shouts out in glee.
And two women sit watching both bursting with pride,
by a yard made of mallee. A dog at their side
on the old front Verandah, beneath an old tree
that casts afternoon shadows from leaves feathery.
She was hungry and penniless, not without means
though to cash in her chips meant some time at 'Devenes'
which was not what she wanted, but hell she could do it
although in her later years doubtless she'd rue it ...
It was just a job, just a small space in time.
It wouldn't define her nor mess with her mind
lest she let it, and knowing herself to be smart,
she gave up her dreams and let go of her heart.
A circle of diamonds her hand didn't wear
and no soft chiffon veil was attached to her hair,
and the gown she had cherished of parchment and gold
hung unworn in her cupboard, as sweet love turned cold.
And the web that once bound her was tattered and torn
though the babe she held in her was cherished and warm.
She could sell her soul dearly and clearly she must
It would be just a job and in none would she trust.
She cast her mind back to the sweet hills of home,
that she'd left many years back to go it alone.
She'd succumbed to the stories and sweet lies he fed,
enamored and captured by love's golden thread,
which she realized now was a tissue of lies,
but too late, she had fallen, from grace - and the prize
disappeared just as quickly. Ah well - such is life
and it wasn't the first time that she'd been in strife.
She felt the babe moving, a fluttery dance,
and somewhere she recalled that a second chance
was an option that everyone deserved Mum said
and she wondered if perhaps that entered her head
as a sign. Should she risk it? Should she make a call?
And again that voice answered - "I won't let you fall"
So she took up her courage and shrugged off her pride
and spoke to her Mother. They both laughed and cried.
There's a yard made of mallee out there in the west,
with acres of blue sky and folks know they're blessed
to live close to nature, working side by side
with a mutual respect that won't be denied.
Here the distant horizon is free of the taint
of the big city precincts. A subtle restraint
which is calming and restful, lies over the land.
Here folks take the time to acknowledge God's hand
And painted in colours of parchment and gold
were the paddocks and wheat fields - a joy to behold,
where a little bloke rides on his Grandfathers knee
as he helps steer the tractor and shouts out in glee.
And two women sit watching both bursting with pride,
by a yard made of mallee. A dog at their side
on the old front Verandah, beneath an old tree
that casts afternoon shadows from leaves feathery.
now that my TAT magazine is no longer. Taking the minutes and doing the newsletter in the over 50's Village doesn't quite keep me up to speed 
Delighted you enjoyed it though.