A Ballad of Sunflowers

[Brendan_Pierotti]

A Ballad of Sunflowers

© Brendan Pierotti

It’s a recognised fact – and it’s stubbornly backed
By the folks to whom this fact applies –
That the best place to stay and get up every day
Is the country – with mozzies and flies.
The towns you’ll find here aren’t ‘coquettish’ and ‘dear’
Stirring memories of ‘green shaded lanes’;
They’re generous and stable and buoyantly able
To handle their hardships and pains.

Though mostly ignored by the citified horde,
There comes every once in a while:
A hopeful romance through the stirrings of chance
That’s dictated by what’s the ‘in style’.
For there’s always some rover through places passed over
Who conjures the crowds with a call:
“Giru hasn’t much – it’s a bit out of touch –
But the sunflowers compensate all…”

They swarmed through the door of our town’s corner store
And chatted with Michael and Rita.
They’d fill up with gas and then promptly amass
In their jazzy and new seven-seater.
It’s been good for Giru that the business came through
And it’s great that the beauty’s been treasured,
But some took a walk and then chopped off a stalk;
The trespassing couldn’t be measured.

“Since they’ve got so much land it would not hurt to stand
In the paddock –” “I do beg your pardon!
Now how would you mind if you came home to find
That we’d set up a shoot in your garden?”
“They’ve put up no fence round the paddock and hence
We will trample right in for a party;
He hasn’t got power to withhold this flower –
The whinging old farmer’s no smarty.”

This was the last straw – on our way to the store
We saw this at the end of our gravel:
Two cars full of town folk who’d come from the big smoke
Were taking some pics for their travel.
They waltzed through the yard – our poor chooks were off guard
For the kids made a racket and roar;
My Mum promptly sent them and so they all went
But we still hung around to make sure. 

We found it bizarre as to get to their car
They required a ten-minute tango;
They packed up the boot and the kids followed suit
While helping themselves to some mango.
If only we’d fathered some radishes rather
Than flowers we’d have had more peace.
But ‘twas well worth the raptured expressions they captured;
The joyous remarks did not cease.

Those Instagram hooters, professional shooters
Were charging a buck to their clients.
Although we had told them to get out and fold
They kept sending up storms of defiance.
A particular pro came five days in a row
And she set up a marquee with lighting.
She’d posted a log called ‘The Sunflower Blog’
And updated with photos and writing.

Some slick cockatoos had stopped off on a cruise
And decided they wanted some feeding
They nibbled the seed that the sunflowers breed
And shortly there was a stampeding:
The sky was a shock of the white-feathered flock
Which had gathered from every dominion
To witness this find and devour in kind
While giving a squawk of opinion.

When the stalks all are brown and their heads drooping down,
The ‘sunnies’ aren’t looking so pretty.
For the folks driving past them the memories will last
But there’s no-one around from the city.
As the harvest draws nigh now my Mum oft will sigh how
She wishes they all still were blooming,
But sisters and I are quite glad to decry
Of the times that they’d had us all fuming.

The stories of gold rushes have ere been told
But those ‘gold’ towns are never the last.
The remnants of vanity cling to their sanity
Fated to brood on their past.
The township’s old ways will slip into our days
And to routine, excitement will yield.
In humble Giru we must find life anew
As each dawn hatches fresh on the field.

It’s happened before now and I think you saw how
The interest in place never stays.
Small towns that were hosts of excitement are ghosts
Of their aspect in those by-gone days.
As I think of our fate it may well be too late
For the rural backbone of our nation:
When the young ones move on and the old ones are gone
It’s a shifting of life; of our station.

[thestoryteller]

I lived in Ayr in my younger days Brendan and often recall after heavy rains Giru being affected by the floodwaters and stopped the flow of traffic to the North.

Sadly they have taken much of the infrastructure out of small towns and the youth are forced to look further a field.

Great to see you writing and expressing your views.



Merv Webster.

[Hal Pritchard]

Brendan, for someone of just fifteen years -- WOW!
Excellent understanding of rhyme and metre including internal rhymes (something even advanced poets can have difficulties with). Good flow and structure, nice storyline, use of vernacular, lovely conclusion coming from the particular to the general...

How lucky we all are to have you with us.
Brenda

[Maureen K Clifford]

That's a great write Brendan - I dips me lid to you Good to see you sharing your work here.

Avid photographers perhaps being just one of the pests that assail you, any photographer worth their salt would come ask permission first, but there are good and bad as in most things. Used to travel through Giru quite regularly many moons ago when it was all sugar cane and I seem to recall at one stage rice, I don't recall seeing sunflowers so I guess this is more farm diversification which most farmers are becoming very familiar with in these difficult times.

[Brendan_Pierotti]

Hi Maureen,

As a matter of fact, Giru is pretty much all cane, with some rice, as you said, and a sprinkling of alternative crops. However, my Dad was the first farmer to plant sunflowers here, which is why all the tourists and townies were going nuts over them. Everyone keeps asking him if he's going to plant them again--"they were so beautiful!"--but he hasn't planted them since last year. It was a one off...so far. Another farmer (in my Dad's words) fell off his perch when he heard that my Dad was planting corn--which he is at the moment.

I never thought any crop could be more beautiful than cane but the corn is pretty idyllic with its fluorescent green and the mill and the line of trees along the river in the background.

The sunflowers were pretty nice too.

[mummsie]

Wow-thats a very mature write for one so young. I really enjoyed it. Thank you Brendan.

Cheers
Sue

[Shelley Hansen]

Hi Brendan

I echo what the others have said - excellent work, especially for one as young as you are. Internal rhyme is one of my favourite styles, but is not easy to sustain, especially through a poem with some length. You have natural talent.

This is my favourite bit:

The sky was a shock of the white-feathered flock
Which had gathered from every dominion
To witness this find and devour in kind
While giving a squawk of opinion.

Very well articulated, creating an instant word-picture! Well done!

Oh, and by the way, writing about something you know well is a great approach. The best stories are those which have their roots in fact, and having knowledge of your subject is a sure fire way to success in your written poetry. Keep it up!

Cheers
Shelley

[alongtimegone]

Absolutely loved it Brendan. Looking forward to your next write.

the corn is pretty idyllic with its fluorescent green and the mill and the line of trees along the river in the background.

Even your responses are poetic.

Wazza

[Catherine Lee]

Wow, great poem Brendan - I really enjoyed this... Not to mention I absolutely love seeing a mass of sunflowers (seeing being the operative word, not nicking off with a few stalks that don't belong to me or barging into them for photos without permission!) You do indeed have a special gift with words, injecting wry humour while making such a good, strong point - the following lines painted a good picture for example:

We found it bizarre as to get to their car
They required a ten-minute tango;
They packed up the boot and the kids followed suit
While helping themselves to some mango

Really well done - I look forward to reading more of your work.

[Brendan_Pierotti]

Thanks Merv

Thanks Catherine

Thanks Wazza

Thanks Sue

Thanks Shelley

It's great to know
I will be putting some more up, but due to certain (outrageous) competition rules, I will be withholding a few to avoid "pre-publishing" them.