Homework WE 9-7-18 - Drink Deep
Posted: Mon Jun 18, 2018 2:01 pm
My homework poem this week is a tribute to all of you wonderful writers (whether born in Australia or not) who look below the surface and bring the tales of Australia to life - especially the untold ones! It is also an answer to those who ask, "Why do you write about old and dead history?"
Drink Deep
(c) Shelley Hansen 18/6/18
You think you know this land of ours, the country of your birth -
the textbooks have informed you of its agony and mirth.
The stories of our folklore may be etched upon your mind,
but have you sensed within your heart the depth that lies behind?
You've read about the shipwrecks on the Southern Ocean track,
but have you felt the pull of raging water, wild and black?
You dream of shady lanes, but have you trekked the desert trail
beneath an unforgiving sky, where strength and vigour fail?
A fluttering of wings disturbs the wattle's green and gold,
but have you watched it cling to life throughout the bitter cold
or seen it bow in black defeat when faced with bushfire threat
to be reborn and rise again through days of dry and wet?
Oh, you who tell the stories - why be satisfied with light
like yellow gleam of candles, when you could be shining bright
illuminating beacons on our true and untold tales
that bring to life the ghosts of men whose legend never pales?
The ink has dried, and pages may seem old and dull at first,
but take them from their dusty shelves - drink deep to quench your thirst,
and let the living river of imagination flow -
preserving for posterity the things we all should know.
Drink Deep
(c) Shelley Hansen 18/6/18
You think you know this land of ours, the country of your birth -
the textbooks have informed you of its agony and mirth.
The stories of our folklore may be etched upon your mind,
but have you sensed within your heart the depth that lies behind?
You've read about the shipwrecks on the Southern Ocean track,
but have you felt the pull of raging water, wild and black?
You dream of shady lanes, but have you trekked the desert trail
beneath an unforgiving sky, where strength and vigour fail?
A fluttering of wings disturbs the wattle's green and gold,
but have you watched it cling to life throughout the bitter cold
or seen it bow in black defeat when faced with bushfire threat
to be reborn and rise again through days of dry and wet?
Oh, you who tell the stories - why be satisfied with light
like yellow gleam of candles, when you could be shining bright
illuminating beacons on our true and untold tales
that bring to life the ghosts of men whose legend never pales?
The ink has dried, and pages may seem old and dull at first,
but take them from their dusty shelves - drink deep to quench your thirst,
and let the living river of imagination flow -
preserving for posterity the things we all should know.