The Morning
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The Morning
I know I don't seem to have much imagination, most of my poems are about the desert...(might be that I have spent the last 30 years in it) but here is another one anyway.
I was loading the ute one morning on my recent trip back there and as the day started to break a cuckoo shrike started it's morning call, I reckon they would have to have the most interesting call of any of the birds, it inspired me to jot down a couple of lines in my diary which I have just added to this morning, I hope it paints some of the picture I am seeing in my head again.
THE MORNING
© Ross Magnay 7/6/2015
A brassy sheen peeps over hills far off where darkness meets the light,
Where yesterday becomes today; and morning birds begin their flight,
The animals of night retire while those of day begin to wake,
The subtle sounds of outback bliss as desert day begins to break.
The chortle of the cuckoo shrike, the sun now washing clean the day,
The red gums shroud the distant hills, the desert breezes start to play.
I stand beside the sandy creek just gazing through the gum tree shroud,
The sky is azure, clear and fresh with just a wisp of morning cloud.
Another desert day is born, so many more before I’ve seen,
Each one different from the rest but that’s the way it’s always been,
Though I am now so far away from desert scenes of bush and tree,
Still they’re embedded in my soul and now forever part of me.
I was loading the ute one morning on my recent trip back there and as the day started to break a cuckoo shrike started it's morning call, I reckon they would have to have the most interesting call of any of the birds, it inspired me to jot down a couple of lines in my diary which I have just added to this morning, I hope it paints some of the picture I am seeing in my head again.
THE MORNING
© Ross Magnay 7/6/2015
A brassy sheen peeps over hills far off where darkness meets the light,
Where yesterday becomes today; and morning birds begin their flight,
The animals of night retire while those of day begin to wake,
The subtle sounds of outback bliss as desert day begins to break.
The chortle of the cuckoo shrike, the sun now washing clean the day,
The red gums shroud the distant hills, the desert breezes start to play.
I stand beside the sandy creek just gazing through the gum tree shroud,
The sky is azure, clear and fresh with just a wisp of morning cloud.
Another desert day is born, so many more before I’ve seen,
Each one different from the rest but that’s the way it’s always been,
Though I am now so far away from desert scenes of bush and tree,
Still they’re embedded in my soul and now forever part of me.
Ross
Re: The Morning
Your poems speak from the heart Ross. I saw, and enjoyed it, from the brassy sheen onwards.
Heather
Heather

- Maureen K Clifford
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Re: The Morning
I see the picture Ross - your words paint a beautiful picture - nicely done IMO 

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Re: The Morning
Goodonya Ross
You were there, it shows 


Neville
" Prose is description, poetry is presence " Les Murray.
" Prose is description, poetry is presence " Les Murray.
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Re: The Morning
Thank you all, as happy as I am on the coast the desert still calls me sometimes....I think the last line is what I really mean!
Ross
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Re: The Morning
I know the feeling Ross,
Still live in hope of sampling a bit more of it again soon.
You have to experience it first hand don't you, and no matter how often you you say goodbye, sooner or later the urge returns.
You have captured the moment and the feeling.
Terry
Still live in hope of sampling a bit more of it again soon.
You have to experience it first hand don't you, and no matter how often you you say goodbye, sooner or later the urge returns.
You have captured the moment and the feeling.
Terry
Re: The Morning
Lovely Ross. Sounds like it was a beautifully serene place to be...a oneness with nature!
Trish
Trish
- Bob Pacey
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Re: The Morning
Don't you find that there is something about the serenity of it all that makes it so good Ross. I was talking to a couple at the Yeppoon show yesterday who have retired from Longreach to the coast and you could see their faces light up when they spoke of Home.
I told them that I had spent time out there and when I mentioned that I had crossed The Thomson River they said " Oh that means you will always return ".
Cheers Bob
I told them that I had spent time out there and when I mentioned that I had crossed The Thomson River they said " Oh that means you will always return ".
Cheers Bob
The purpose in life is to have fun.
After you grasp that everything else seems insignificant !!!
After you grasp that everything else seems insignificant !!!
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Re: The Morning
Ross.
I much prefer your descriptive, with depth of feeling, straightforward style of writing i.e (Telling a story that one doesn't have to ponder as to the meaning) to that of those under discussion by Stephen Edgar.
To me, you convey your love of the outback and surroundings and take your reader along for the ride, with you.
I envy your skill
Thanks
Val W
I much prefer your descriptive, with depth of feeling, straightforward style of writing i.e (Telling a story that one doesn't have to ponder as to the meaning) to that of those under discussion by Stephen Edgar.
To me, you convey your love of the outback and surroundings and take your reader along for the ride, with you.
I envy your skill
Thanks
Val W