MUDLARKS

[Maureen K Clifford]

MUDLARKS … Maureen Clifford © The #ScribblyBark Poet

When the weight of the world is upon you,
as it sometimes is at different times
when you feel you’ve been touched by God only knows
what and there’s something missing, left behind.
When the view from the top is majestic,
but you’ve no energy left to climb
then there’s no need to whisper or fill in the blanks -
this will pass in the fullness of time.

When you’ve just dipped you toe in the water
and been grabbed by some latent desire
with no shred of evidence indicating why.
Be prudent, step back and retire.
You can review all your plans tomorrow,
even knowing that each second counts,
far better be thought of as spineless
than continue when beset by doubts.

For the boy was a quite untrained rider,
and the horse was a brumby half wild
and the dog was merely an undisciplined pup –
a dingo breed often reviled.
The young lad in anger had chosen
to gallop the horse cross the creek,
a feat that he doubted at all he could do –
but he hated to think he was weak.

Beset by the demons that drove him
into the creek he spurred in a dash
with the dog at their heels barking loudly .
When all fell ‘twas a terrible splash.
A hot flush of anger passed over
his face at this abject disgrace,
his Dad rode to war with the Light Horse
but no more would he see his Dad’s face.

A telegram boy came this morning
the dreaded missive in his hand.
We regret to inform you that Lieutenant Jones
gave his life at Lone Pine for his land.
And now in a fierce fit of anger
the boy realized what he’d done.
He whistled the horse and the dog up
and headed back home to his Mum.

In years to come photos will show folks,
a boy and a dog and a horse
standing side by side in a paddock
surrounded by green new mown grass.
A scribbled horse, dappled in colour
by shade from an old Ironbark tree
A bright red faced boy there beside him
mud covered from neck to the knee.

The astute ones will also note mud stains
on the muzzle and knee of the horse
and take in the fact that the dog has wet fur
which is hardly par for the course.
And they might put two and two together
and possible come up with five.
An error in judgement that could have gone wrong
sees three… muddy and wet but alive.

[Cropduster]

What a wonderful tale, beautifully told.

Nice work, Maureen. We have all had a little mud stick from time to time, when we have rushed into situations in haste.

[Maureen K Clifford]

Thanks Allan - glad you liked it - It was written to prompts on another page I frequent - I reckon though that the first 2 verses could be ditched. What do you think?

[Catherine Lee]

Great story Maureen, and I agree with Allan that it's told well. I can see your point about the first two verses - it would be a shame to ditch them altogether but you could possibly move them around a bit and start the whole poem with the boy instead. However, that said I enjoyed it very much as it appears as well.

[Terry]

Yes that's a very good story Maureen,

I'd guess there were many such telegrams delivered during those tragic years.

So many never came back.

Terry

[Maureen K Clifford]

Good suggestion Catherine I will look at that.

Thanks Terry - I can't imagine just how awful it would have been for all concerned to receive those telegrams. My Mum told me about how everyone hated seeing the telegraph delivery boy coming up the road during WWII, wondering whose door he was going to visit.