When all else fails who is to say that the old ways wouldn't work.
WANDJINA
Maureen Clifford © The Scribbly Bark Poet
The days before were hot and dry, the months before as well
at times a bank of clouds appeared -but just as quickly disappeared
a misted mauve light bathed the land and in the paddock he would stand
talking to ghosts with spirit voices – not one bloke down here rejoices
we are walking dark pathways all leading straight to hell.
Long days continued hot and dry with no relief in sight.
He watched his money disappear along with hope and now his fear
was soon that he would lose it all and that would no way be his call.
He struggled daily with these things, perhaps his thoughts had paper wings…
in his dreams, sad to say there was very little respite.
The land wilted beneath the heat, and now paddocks were bare
Dark spirits from primordial times were in each rock and tree.
He felt himself held in their arms. Land – you belong to me
and though clouds came to tantalize not one drop fell from out the skies -
he saw grey cloud crevasses drifting by on the thin air.
He now recalled his father’s voice – it rains at end of drought
He rubbed the sacred rain stone on a boulder ancestors had known
and drew the dreamtime serpents curves in dust, the rituals he observed.
He threw his boomerang up high to cut the clouds and let the sky
release the rain. But had they heard? An element of doubt.
That night he slept a dreamless sleep, beaten and out of choices.
And in the distance thunder rolled, the hot air cooled, the night turned cold.
The gum leaves rustled, turned their faces as the storm fronts wind outpaces
rain that was falling straight down to parched earths arms, dusty and brown;
as he slept on exhausted, soothed in sleep by spirit voices.
WANDJINA
- Maureen K Clifford
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WANDJINA
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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: WANDJINA
The drought is very severe our way, Maureen. The aborigines were nomads, movable. Maybe our culture of fixed settlement doesn't suit Australia. Should we have portable communities 

Neville
" Prose is description, poetry is presence " Les Murray.
" Prose is description, poetry is presence " Les Murray.
- Maureen K Clifford
- Posts: 8159
- Joined: Tue Nov 09, 2010 10:31 am
- Location: Ipswich - Paul Pisasale country and home of the Ipswich Poetry Feast
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Re: WANDJINA
Could be Neville - one of the reasons the Aboriginal people were nomadic was so as to not denude an area of wildlife or fruits and seeds. Moving on always gave the Mother time to replenish and restock which is not such a silly idea really if you want to eat.
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: WANDJINA
Are you sure about that Maureen? I think it is more likely that the Aborigines moved around because the area had been exhausted. It is a well held theory that many of the deserts were created by the early Australians with their indiscriminate use of fire as a means of sourcing food. I wasn't there, but over the past twenty five years or so, I have seen plenty of evidence to support that theory.
Ross
- Maureen K Clifford
- Posts: 8159
- Joined: Tue Nov 09, 2010 10:31 am
- Location: Ipswich - Paul Pisasale country and home of the Ipswich Poetry Feast
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Re: WANDJINA
No way I can be sure of it Ross - I wasn't there and can only go on what other experieced and supposedly knowledgeable people tell us - but it would seem to me to be a reasonable idea to move on to newer grounds before your supply was totally exhausted - but ....................
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.