Homework w\e25/10/2015

[Bob Pacey]

Turgid Waters Run Deep


A single shot ran out and pierced the winters gloom
they huddled close together inside the darkened room.
The final call had come at noon no more the hills to roam
tomorrows light would mean that they no longer owned their home.

The fight had been so long and hard to try and save their land
the bank had tried to have their way, but this was their final stand.
They could have sold out years ago when the mines began to sprout
but they still held hopes and dreams that good times follow drought.

They were caught between earths riches and the love of this their home
but they could not bring themselves to pack up everything and roam
the highways and the byways as they just tried to survive
one more year they reckoned would see the old place come alive.

But the rains just never came and a tangled web they wove
caught between the days of heat and debt no matter how they strove
to try and keep the place afloat there was just no end in sight
no way to save their families pride, no way to make it right.

The bankers stopped their credit but they were not to blame
the cattle scratched the dust for feed a hopeless hunger game.
Her husband had no strength left to fight upon this final night
He had gone to shoot the cattle left, with evenings fading light

She knew he wasn't coming back when the shot rang out
too proud a man to face defeat he left her in no doubt
as what facing this night would mean and how he held her dear
she hugged her children closely and wiped away a sobbing tear.

Bob Pacey (c)

[william williams]

Good Bob..The black dog is the biggest curse ever known to man kind

[Maureen K Clifford]

Good use of the prompts Bob and now as if the drought wasn't enough to contend with, we have the poor buggers topping themselves over issues with the coal seam gas and fracking. We are living through sad times

[Shelley Hansen]

Wow! A really powerful poem, Bob. Sadly, so topical and true in many cases.

Regards
Shelley

[Catherine Lee]

A sad but excellent poem Bob - well done!

[Heather]

Sadly, too true, too often.

Bob I think you meant "pierced" not "pieced".