ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

The Wake

We had found him in a clearing underneath a blackbutt tree,
by a campfire choked with ashes cold and grey;
it was quite a creepy feeling watching open, sightless eyes
fixed on emptiness - yet something far away.
With his hair the only movement in the hot but gentle breeze
and his body in apparent calm repose,
there was nothing else around, and yet we felt an eerie chill
due to silence only pierced by cawing crows.

It was afternoon already so we made another camp,
too exhausted from the search to race the light;
there was nothing we could do right then, for time had swiftly passed,
so not one of us was putting up a fight.
Then we drank his health all day until the rising of the moon,
reminiscing on our old mate now at rest—
kept on drinking till our whole supply of drink at last ran out,
and the crimson sun was sinking in the west.

We had covered him, prepared him for his final journey home—
now encroaching shadows swelled to hasten night,
so we one by one surrendered to the welcome call of sleep,
as some screeching cockatoos launched into flight.
In the morning, aching heads and harsh reality was faced,
leaving little time to readjust and mourn;
for a kookaburra noisily, impertinently mocked,
while a parliament of magpies greeted dawn.

We presented quite a sorry bunch - were tempted to remain,
just to let effects of alcohol subside;
yet we managed to arrange ourselves and tidy up the scene,
making ready for our long and taxing ride.
We believed we’d done him proud with our extended private wake,
and procession for this bushman born and bred—
as respectfully we bore him out in silent, solemn grief,
hidden curlews ceased their wailing for the dead.

© Catherine Lee, July 2018

You could almost put that to music Catherine, it's quite lyrical in places.

You have put your usual stamp on this - I wouldn't expect anything less.
You also made a pretty good fist of the prompts as well.

Well done Catherine, it seems our minds have wandered down a similar bush track this time.

Cheers

Terry

Thank you Terry - yes, we certainly have been of like mind on these particular prompts. Thank you as always for your very kind feedback, and also your comment about this one being lyrical in places - I never thought of that!

Gee you are setting the bar high - that is 2 lots of homework prompts in a row where your poem IMO is of very high competition standard. I love your take on this one and especially like these 2 lines....

for a kookaburra noisily, impertinently mocked,
while a parliament of magpies greeted dawn.

Well done you terrific use made of those prompts which I had thought were going to be difficult and yet you have made it look so easy. Good ink mate.

Another excellent example of flawless bush poetry, Catherine!

I also like the lines Maureen mentioned - we talk about a "parliament of owls", but I reckon magpies is nearer the mark!!

Thank you so much, Maureen and Shelley...Wow, 'flawless', and 'setting the bar high' and 'very high competition standard'...? My goodness, your comments really do make my day today!

That's a good one Catherine, a sad and frequent story in my work experience.
They found a poor homeless bloke by the creek down at Newcastle yesterday. He' been well known about the streets and his time had come.

As Shelley has said , I agree, you should give it a run in the comps.

Thank you so much Neville!