I Wonder
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I Wonder
I Haven't posted any thing for awhile now and Terrys poem about his mate reminded me of my brother who battled with MS for some 30 odd years, in the latter years he was wheelchair bound and able to talk very little....he lost the battle at the end of May this year.
I Wonder
© Ross Magnay 23/7/10
The crimson clouds are rippled ‘cross a dawning desert sky,
their gilded edges lighting up the morn,
the sun peeps over mulga trees to welcome in the day,
another desert day has just been born,
I sit beside the campfire with my mug of steaming tea,
a windmill stirs beyond a barren flat,
My mind begins to wander and I cannot help but think;
I wonder just whose God created that!
I hear the children laughing as they go about their play,
a sound to lift your soul and warm your heart,
the purity and innocence is shining from within,
and their being is the most important part.
For really all around the world, the kids are just the same,
from whatever family trees they stem,
and as I sit and contemplate I just can’t help but think;
I wonder just whose God created them!
A silver moon is shining over lapping ocean shores,
a gentle breeze is whispering it’s tunes,
grasses waving softly and the bushes bow their heads,
a little sand is shifting on the dunes.
A fishing line hangs limply from my rod upon the beach,
I sit and I relax in peaceful bliss,
I just can’t help but wonder as I’m soaking up the scene,
I wonder just whose God created this!
Traffic snarls create a scene no bushman likes to see,
fumes and noise and screeching of the tyres,
people on the footpath pushing shoving as they go,
and executing only their desires,
I step aside and smile at some but rarely it’s returned,
for mostly they just want to push on through,
and as I see it happening I just can’t help but think;
I wonder just whose God created you!
And people bashing people stealing money from the poor,
ignoring those who try to have a go,
hate and spite, intolerance is oozing everywhere,
the people walking past don’t want to know.
Injustices to children to the elderly and frail,
committed by a vile sort of phlegm,
I wring my hands in anger as I watch in pure disgust,
I wonder just whose God created them!
I gaze upon my brother as he sits upon his chair,
no conversation emanates from him,
struck down in the prime of life through no fault of his own,
the pleasures of his life are very slim.
A disease that came from nowhere with no cause to be explained,
but still he pushes on without a fuss,
with misty eyes I wonder just exactly how he ticks,
and really just whose God created us!
I Wonder
© Ross Magnay 23/7/10
The crimson clouds are rippled ‘cross a dawning desert sky,
their gilded edges lighting up the morn,
the sun peeps over mulga trees to welcome in the day,
another desert day has just been born,
I sit beside the campfire with my mug of steaming tea,
a windmill stirs beyond a barren flat,
My mind begins to wander and I cannot help but think;
I wonder just whose God created that!
I hear the children laughing as they go about their play,
a sound to lift your soul and warm your heart,
the purity and innocence is shining from within,
and their being is the most important part.
For really all around the world, the kids are just the same,
from whatever family trees they stem,
and as I sit and contemplate I just can’t help but think;
I wonder just whose God created them!
A silver moon is shining over lapping ocean shores,
a gentle breeze is whispering it’s tunes,
grasses waving softly and the bushes bow their heads,
a little sand is shifting on the dunes.
A fishing line hangs limply from my rod upon the beach,
I sit and I relax in peaceful bliss,
I just can’t help but wonder as I’m soaking up the scene,
I wonder just whose God created this!
Traffic snarls create a scene no bushman likes to see,
fumes and noise and screeching of the tyres,
people on the footpath pushing shoving as they go,
and executing only their desires,
I step aside and smile at some but rarely it’s returned,
for mostly they just want to push on through,
and as I see it happening I just can’t help but think;
I wonder just whose God created you!
And people bashing people stealing money from the poor,
ignoring those who try to have a go,
hate and spite, intolerance is oozing everywhere,
the people walking past don’t want to know.
Injustices to children to the elderly and frail,
committed by a vile sort of phlegm,
I wring my hands in anger as I watch in pure disgust,
I wonder just whose God created them!
I gaze upon my brother as he sits upon his chair,
no conversation emanates from him,
struck down in the prime of life through no fault of his own,
the pleasures of his life are very slim.
A disease that came from nowhere with no cause to be explained,
but still he pushes on without a fuss,
with misty eyes I wonder just exactly how he ticks,
and really just whose God created us!
Ross
- Maureen K Clifford
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Re: I Wonder
so sorry Ross to hear your Brother has gone from this life for you must miss him but hold the thought that he has discovered a happier and kinder place - your words just cut to the chase, they are honest and simple and true. Extremely moving poem and beautifully put. Ross thank you for sharing.
Go well Mate
Cheers
Maureen
Go well Mate
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: I Wonder
Great word pictures combined with thought-provoking sentiments. Running deep there Rosco, appropriately deep (GREAT use of language and imagery)... 

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Re: I Wonder
Enjoyed this one Ross, a little close to home for me. My brother was diagnosed with Parkinsons at the age of 39, he is now 54, hasn't worked for 12 years. But his one of those people who takes one day at a time, never complaining, accepting of the cards his been dealt. One of his loves is Bush Poetry, so I will show him this one, I'm sure he will enjoy it. Thanks for sharing Ross.
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.
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Re: I Wonder
G/day Ross,
Says it all mate, I often wonder the same things myself.
Terry
Says it all mate, I often wonder the same things myself.
Terry
Re: I Wonder
You paint a vivid picture Ross.
We take our health for granted till it is taken away or have someone close affected.
We all seem to be too busy to smell the roses but hopefully we get to smell them before they are gone.
Thank you for sharing.
Darren
We take our health for granted till it is taken away or have someone close affected.
We all seem to be too busy to smell the roses but hopefully we get to smell them before they are gone.
Thank you for sharing.
Darren
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Re: I Wonder
You have set out both the problem of evil ( how people behave ) and the problem of pain ( how people suffer from circumstances beyond their control ) I think Ross. Very clearly expressed. Sometimes the answer is... there is no answer.
Neville
" Prose is description, poetry is presence " Les Murray.
" Prose is description, poetry is presence " Les Murray.
Re: I Wonder
To both Ross, Terry and Sue. Many others who know the meaning of the loss of sight or speech or hearing, or mobility. I myself have lost most of my Mobility but my heart and feelings go out to those other souls who have lost more than me. Thanks for trying to let other know just what we are feeling and I mean it. BILL WILLIAMS
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Re: I Wonder
Thanks Maureen, we were very close. Thanks also Manfred, Marty, Sue, Terry, Matt, Darren, Neville and Bill, it is a horrible disease, he was diagnosed at twenty five and fought pretty bravely for over thirty years, when you see some of the scum that live a complete life with nothing to contribute to society and then compare them to someone who does it all right, it certainly makes you wonder what sort of 'God' dishes out the fate of mankind.....well it does me anyway.
Ross
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Re: I Wonder
Thanks Ross
That's what I call POETRY!!
Val W
That's what I call POETRY!!
Val W