ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

Like Zondrae said, it's sometimes hard to get out of that abab, or aabb, or abcb rhyming pattern. I think that's just how my brain works best, or perhaps it's just too lazy to try anything more adventurous. But, the other night, this poem just wrote itself. I got out of bed, and scribbled this out, then in the morning, when I read it again, it was like I didn't even remember writing it.

I suppose what prompted it, was seeing a photograph of life-sized horse sculptures, made completely of driftwood, standing in frozen gallop on the beach. Amazingly talented lady. Sorry people, it's another "horsey" one ...


Driftwood Dreaming
by Kym Eitel

A mermaid lover waits, aglow.
A stockman rides by sundown’s show
and golden glistens sparkling sea,
the glittered sea.
Then he sees she,
both stung by cupid’s bow.

Beneath the gently swaying palms,
he woos her with his cowboy charms.
They lay beside the gentle sea,
romantic sea.
He kisses she.
Blushed passion, tangled arms.

King Neptune saw them as they kissed.
He angered at their heated tryst
and summonsed up the crashing sea.
The smashing sea,
dragged her from he.
The vicious ocean hissed.

In one swift gulp the ocean chewed
and smashed his bones as brine waves spewed.
It drowned the stockman in the sea.
The hungry sea
took life from he
and finished Neptune’s feud.

White driftwood bones of ghost horse stand.
A lonely rider, reins in hand
now seeks his lover from the sea.
The vengeful sea
keeps her from he.
Sad hoof prints in the sand.

Condemned to half-life ever more,
the stockman haunts the night-time shore,
forever searching by the sea,
the gloating sea.
She calls to he,
but mute by ocean’s roar.

Hear creak of saddle, clank of bit.
Bleached driftwood bones are moonlight lit.
He rides each night beside the sea,
the taunting sea,
in search of she.
He vows to never quit.

He’ll never touch her warm, soft skin.
He’ll never kiss her lips or chin.
She’s shackled deep beneath the sea,
King Neptune’s sea.
She cries for he,
but never, love will win.

Hear creak of saddle, clank of bit.
Bleached driftwood bones are moonlight lit.
White driftwood bones,
cursed driftwood bones.
Creaking saddle, clank of bit.

Now the other one was a tear in the eye poem, but this one is a spine shivery one.

Dear Kym,

Please don't ever apologise for your horse poems. It was a kind of artistic envy that made me (in the past) curse a little at the 'horse poems' and they weren't only your horse poems. You write so beautifully, regardless of the topic. For myself, having acknowledged that I was envious, I gave myself a good talking to.

This one would fit in either a 'sea' or 'love poem' or 'ghost story' topic. Very clever idea and as usual very well written. Go for it.. housework will wait but the words won't. Capture them in the net of your imagination and spread them like butter on toast. Lets hope they melt into the paper and that not one single one gets away.

Wow Kym! Love it. I wouldn't call it a horsey poem at all. The sea theme is what gets my attention. It's brilliant.

Heather

Totally agree with all that the girls have said here and I remember seeing those driftwood horses - they were totally amazing.

This is fabulous - fabulous imagery and a gentle use of words to tell a romantic tale with an Australian feel to it.

Can imagine it set on one of the beaches below the Nullabor - isolated, huge breakers rolling in, blue sky overhead, red soil behind and lovers on golden sands resting on his Drizabone while his trusty steed waits in the dunes, and then that one rogue wave pulling her from her lovers arms and into the oceans turbulence, where her golden tresses lift like seaweed as she is taken into the depths.

Great writing Kym - worth getting up for Mate.

Cheers

Maureen

Thanks girls. Glad you liked it. But now I have to go rewrite it, cos Maureen has put fantastic phrases like "rogue wave", "ocean's turbulence" and "tresses like seaweed" out there - I wanna see if I can write them in there somewhere ...

The driftwood horse photo that I saw did have a man wearing a drizabone too. Maybe you've seen the same piccies Maureen? The lady's name is Jennie Scott and she's from Cairns. Her website is: www.jenniescott.com.au

K.

No Kym I hadn't seen this ladies work which is great - these were the ones I had seen previously

http://www.rense.com/general70/drift.htm

Cheers

Maureen

I think your class as a poet of exception has pulled the odd rhyming pattern off. I particularly liked the final stanza. And the setting and the imagery is brilliant. Great stuff Kym. Enjoyed it.

Cheers, Marty

Thanks for the link Maureen,

Wow, what an artist. The bodies are so lifelike. You would expect the horses to run off at any moment. The sculpture of the mother and foal is amazing. I was thinking the foul was about to nuzzel up for a feed. I hope she is able to sell some of her work. Or at least have some installed as community art somewhere.
That is one thing I really liked about China. We were in and around the industrial city of ShuZeou and all the public parks have really amazing statuary. Even the rest stops by the side of the highways have statues. Well they are more like tableaus than statues. There is one group of a mother and children posing for photos taken by the father who is sitting on a seat a lttle way off, facing the little family with his camera ready. The locals dress them up with hats, flowers etc, which change from day to day.
There is another one which consists of about eight or ten ants carrying a telegraph pole. And another one of a teacher leading a line of children who are all holding hands. On the cycleway there is a boy on a skateboard, and a businessman, with his coat over his shoulder and the other hand is holding his mobile phone and all just a little larger than life. Except for the ants which are the size of a two year old child.

Thanks Martyboy, thanks

Now, I want all of you to be honest. Did the last verse being a different structure and rhyming scheme bother any of you? Or did it just leave it with a slowing down, slowing down, type feeling?