Homework w/e 27.5.13 - LIFE'S CHOICES
Posted: Tue May 14, 2013 4:07 pm
LIFE’S CHOICES
A purple sky bedecked with clouds of pewter coloured hue
with zigzag streaks of lightning with harsh brightness did imbue
the earth below, the hills and gullies. Rushing swollen creeks.
The granite tors and termite mounds, the craggy wooded peaks
and everywhere one looked one saw the carnage the storm wreaks.
All animals sought shelter from the weather.
Beneath the aged Ironbark stood a dozen milling sheep
with little lambs at foot who close by their Mum’s side did keep.
Their choice of shelter not ideal, the old Ironbark was torn
and branches wrested from her by the fury of the storm.
Thank God the sheep were full woolled for at least that kept them warm.
They circled and stood with heads close together.
An eagles nest was tossed and buffeted by errant winds
the eaglets hung on grimly, mother eagle braced her limbs
standing above her babies with her wings spread warm and wide
protecting them from rain that was now sluicing from the sky
she watched over the landscape with bright yellow, gimlet eye.
There’d be good pickings later in the heather.
The apple trees and plum trees, the ripe peach and nectarine
trees laden with the best darn crop that he had ever seen
He stood and watched in horror at the storm clouds overhead
and felt the first fat heavy drops plop down upon his head.
Here’s not the place to mention the words he actually said.
Suffice to say he lost it altogether.
The sun peeked out once storm had gone, making new connections
raindrops on wire fences shone, gems with rainbow reflections.
Beneath the trees the rotted fruit mingled with the mangled.
Naked limbs stripped of their leaves by the storm drooped and dangled.
The farmer with his chain-saw started to disentangle.
Sweat stains bloomed round his hat band made of leather.
An endless road, a foggy day and life here isn't easy
for man or beast, idyllic sometimes, rarely bright and breezy.
It’s great when good times come along, alas they rarely linger
but taken overall, one could but count once on each finger
the times when thoughts of giving up, put one's mind through the wringer.
Negativity squeezes hope out of man’s heart forever.
Maureen Clifford © 05/13
A purple sky bedecked with clouds of pewter coloured hue
with zigzag streaks of lightning with harsh brightness did imbue
the earth below, the hills and gullies. Rushing swollen creeks.
The granite tors and termite mounds, the craggy wooded peaks
and everywhere one looked one saw the carnage the storm wreaks.
All animals sought shelter from the weather.
Beneath the aged Ironbark stood a dozen milling sheep
with little lambs at foot who close by their Mum’s side did keep.
Their choice of shelter not ideal, the old Ironbark was torn
and branches wrested from her by the fury of the storm.
Thank God the sheep were full woolled for at least that kept them warm.
They circled and stood with heads close together.
An eagles nest was tossed and buffeted by errant winds
the eaglets hung on grimly, mother eagle braced her limbs
standing above her babies with her wings spread warm and wide
protecting them from rain that was now sluicing from the sky
she watched over the landscape with bright yellow, gimlet eye.
There’d be good pickings later in the heather.
The apple trees and plum trees, the ripe peach and nectarine
trees laden with the best darn crop that he had ever seen
He stood and watched in horror at the storm clouds overhead
and felt the first fat heavy drops plop down upon his head.
Here’s not the place to mention the words he actually said.
Suffice to say he lost it altogether.
The sun peeked out once storm had gone, making new connections
raindrops on wire fences shone, gems with rainbow reflections.
Beneath the trees the rotted fruit mingled with the mangled.
Naked limbs stripped of their leaves by the storm drooped and dangled.
The farmer with his chain-saw started to disentangle.
Sweat stains bloomed round his hat band made of leather.
An endless road, a foggy day and life here isn't easy
for man or beast, idyllic sometimes, rarely bright and breezy.
It’s great when good times come along, alas they rarely linger
but taken overall, one could but count once on each finger
the times when thoughts of giving up, put one's mind through the wringer.
Negativity squeezes hope out of man’s heart forever.
Maureen Clifford © 05/13
