Dingo
Posted: Sat Jun 08, 2013 7:38 pm
This poem fails on a number of levels to be true to bush poetry.
1. Metre and stresses are not consistent
2. The rhyme schemes vary. Verse one has an ABCB rhyme.
3. Verse two has AAAB
4. “No hybrid this one - pure still. (Inverted rhyme)
And yet it’s one of my favourites. I enjoyed writing it and I enjoy reading it. Strange???
Dingo
He raises his head to a redolent breeze.
No hybrid this one - pure still.
Athletic grace enabling him
free roam cross rock and ridge and rill.
Across parched plains instinctive urge
to prowl from desert to forest verge,
to hunt and kill. Small creature’s scourge
in a hard and hungry land.
He pads with soft and silent feet.
With ears erect and eyes intense,
to where his lifetime mate sits still;
awake, alert in every sense.
Her pups not yet of age to feed
alone. He meets their every need.
Descendant of uncertain breed
in an ancient sunburned land.
Familiar sounds - a waking world.
The tender dappled light of dawn.
Uncertainty his closest friend,
acknowledged each precipitous morn.
Once he ruled this land so wide.
No reason day or night to hide.
But now no turning back the tide
of man in a changing land
Four thousand years at least, he’s trod
this canvas God has painted.
This once wild wondrous land of Oz
that hand of man has tainted.
And still he roams the untamed face
of a wild and wonderful wilderness place
and I pray that we’ll never deny him the space
to live free. His birth right. Dingo.
1. Metre and stresses are not consistent
2. The rhyme schemes vary. Verse one has an ABCB rhyme.
3. Verse two has AAAB
4. “No hybrid this one - pure still. (Inverted rhyme)
And yet it’s one of my favourites. I enjoyed writing it and I enjoy reading it. Strange???
Dingo
He raises his head to a redolent breeze.
No hybrid this one - pure still.
Athletic grace enabling him
free roam cross rock and ridge and rill.
Across parched plains instinctive urge
to prowl from desert to forest verge,
to hunt and kill. Small creature’s scourge
in a hard and hungry land.
He pads with soft and silent feet.
With ears erect and eyes intense,
to where his lifetime mate sits still;
awake, alert in every sense.
Her pups not yet of age to feed
alone. He meets their every need.
Descendant of uncertain breed
in an ancient sunburned land.
Familiar sounds - a waking world.
The tender dappled light of dawn.
Uncertainty his closest friend,
acknowledged each precipitous morn.
Once he ruled this land so wide.
No reason day or night to hide.
But now no turning back the tide
of man in a changing land
Four thousand years at least, he’s trod
this canvas God has painted.
This once wild wondrous land of Oz
that hand of man has tainted.
And still he roams the untamed face
of a wild and wonderful wilderness place
and I pray that we’ll never deny him the space
to live free. His birth right. Dingo.