A CHAMPION DAY
- Maureen K Clifford
- Posts: 8153
- Joined: Tue Nov 09, 2010 10:31 am
- Location: Ipswich - Paul Pisasale country and home of the Ipswich Poetry Feast
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A CHAMPION DAY
A CHAMPION DAY
She was quite young but he was old, hung round race courses so I’m told.
She was tiny, he was tall, a fact she didn’t mind at all.
They both enjoyed their weekly stroll in sync together, heart and soul.
The suns feeble effort to shine warmed them both from time to time.
She wore a hat to keep her warm and Drizabone in case of storm.
Mum busy knitting baby clothes; gives not a thought where daughter goes.
He tossed his long strawberry blond locks and swished his tail around his hocks
and noticed a gap in the hedge and recalled others that were edged
with birch. He’d cleared Bechers with ease so jumping this would be a breeze.
A silent message he her sent, to settle, lean forward. Knees bent,
she gripped more firmly with her thighs, she felt him soar, she felt him rise
and like the champ he was of old he swiftly galloped, fleet and bold.
He leaped, he soared and cleared with ease the hedge – and she was mighty pleased.
All lessons had come into play she rode her hurdler here today.
Over and out, they galloped on, the tiny girl on race horse strong,
over the paddocks grassy knolls, embroidered with golden jonquils.
Old bloke with pocket watch in hand noted their path and thought it grand.
By crikey that young lass can ride and that old bloke ain’t missed a stride.
And on they galloped both inspired though he was getting somewhat tired.
But in the distance fields he knew, the dog leg track, one blackened yew
a remnant from the fires last year, that saw green paddocks disappear
to wasteland, crops stood all forlorn. Thousands of acres - scorched popcorn.
A foggy outlook they thought then – but human spirits rose again.
Today they were both filled with joy – the little girl and Beauchamps Boy
Maureen Clifford © 07/11
She was quite young but he was old, hung round race courses so I’m told.
She was tiny, he was tall, a fact she didn’t mind at all.
They both enjoyed their weekly stroll in sync together, heart and soul.
The suns feeble effort to shine warmed them both from time to time.
She wore a hat to keep her warm and Drizabone in case of storm.
Mum busy knitting baby clothes; gives not a thought where daughter goes.
He tossed his long strawberry blond locks and swished his tail around his hocks
and noticed a gap in the hedge and recalled others that were edged
with birch. He’d cleared Bechers with ease so jumping this would be a breeze.
A silent message he her sent, to settle, lean forward. Knees bent,
she gripped more firmly with her thighs, she felt him soar, she felt him rise
and like the champ he was of old he swiftly galloped, fleet and bold.
He leaped, he soared and cleared with ease the hedge – and she was mighty pleased.
All lessons had come into play she rode her hurdler here today.
Over and out, they galloped on, the tiny girl on race horse strong,
over the paddocks grassy knolls, embroidered with golden jonquils.
Old bloke with pocket watch in hand noted their path and thought it grand.
By crikey that young lass can ride and that old bloke ain’t missed a stride.
And on they galloped both inspired though he was getting somewhat tired.
But in the distance fields he knew, the dog leg track, one blackened yew
a remnant from the fires last year, that saw green paddocks disappear
to wasteland, crops stood all forlorn. Thousands of acres - scorched popcorn.
A foggy outlook they thought then – but human spirits rose again.
Today they were both filled with joy – the little girl and Beauchamps Boy
Maureen Clifford © 07/11
Last edited by Maureen K Clifford on Thu Jul 28, 2011 6:12 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Check out The Scribbly Bark Poets blog site here -
http://scribblybarkpoetry.blogspot.com.au/
I may not always succeed in making a difference, but I will go to my grave knowing I at least tried.
http://scribblybarkpoetry.blogspot.com.au/
I may not always succeed in making a difference, but I will go to my grave knowing I at least tried.
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Re: A CHAMPION DAY
Good one once again Maureen.
Sue
Sue
the door is always open, the kettles always on, my shoulders here to cry on, i'll not judge who's right or wrong.
- Maureen K Clifford
- Posts: 8153
- Joined: Tue Nov 09, 2010 10:31 am
- Location: Ipswich - Paul Pisasale country and home of the Ipswich Poetry Feast
- Contact:
Re: A CHAMPION DAY
Thank you Sue 

Check out The Scribbly Bark Poets blog site here -
http://scribblybarkpoetry.blogspot.com.au/
I may not always succeed in making a difference, but I will go to my grave knowing I at least tried.
http://scribblybarkpoetry.blogspot.com.au/
I may not always succeed in making a difference, but I will go to my grave knowing I at least tried.
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- Posts: 6946
- Joined: Sun Oct 31, 2010 12:08 pm
- Location: Here
Re: A CHAMPION DAY
G'day Maureen, that's one you could try in the comp. I reckon it could go well.
Neville
" Prose is description, poetry is presence " Les Murray.
" Prose is description, poetry is presence " Les Murray.
- Maureen K Clifford
- Posts: 8153
- Joined: Tue Nov 09, 2010 10:31 am
- Location: Ipswich - Paul Pisasale country and home of the Ipswich Poetry Feast
- Contact:
Re: A CHAMPION DAY
Do you Neville!!!? Do you think it might be a bit of stayer and get past the post? Could be long odds but I will keep your comments in mind - this is what Zondrae refers to a a elbow poem??? no hang on that could be another **!@$ horse poem
Seriously I am surprised but appreciative of your comment Neville
Cheers
Maureen



Seriously I am surprised but appreciative of your comment Neville
Cheers
Maureen
Check out The Scribbly Bark Poets blog site here -
http://scribblybarkpoetry.blogspot.com.au/
I may not always succeed in making a difference, but I will go to my grave knowing I at least tried.
http://scribblybarkpoetry.blogspot.com.au/
I may not always succeed in making a difference, but I will go to my grave knowing I at least tried.
Re: A CHAMPION DAY
A good one Maureen may that one ride into the books
Bill the old the battler
Bill the old the battler
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- Joined: Sun Oct 31, 2010 12:08 pm
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Re: A CHAMPION DAY
I meant it Maureen..
Why are you surprised, ?? Maybe I give the impression of a curmudgeonly naysayer, I'm not you know. 


Neville
" Prose is description, poetry is presence " Les Murray.
" Prose is description, poetry is presence " Les Murray.
- Maureen K Clifford
- Posts: 8153
- Joined: Tue Nov 09, 2010 10:31 am
- Location: Ipswich - Paul Pisasale country and home of the Ipswich Poetry Feast
- Contact:
Re: A CHAMPION DAY
Nothing like that Neville - I always appreciate your thoughts - just that this was pretty much a throw away one as far as I was concerned. Homework from another site that requires a piece to be written in less that 30 minutes using up to 6 prompts which I usually manage to fit all in and posted as it is.
So I am doubly delighted that you find it worthy. Thank you.
Thanks Bill - I might have to groom it a bit now
Cheers
Maureen
So I am doubly delighted that you find it worthy. Thank you.
Thanks Bill - I might have to groom it a bit now



Cheers
Maureen
Check out The Scribbly Bark Poets blog site here -
http://scribblybarkpoetry.blogspot.com.au/
I may not always succeed in making a difference, but I will go to my grave knowing I at least tried.
http://scribblybarkpoetry.blogspot.com.au/
I may not always succeed in making a difference, but I will go to my grave knowing I at least tried.