Fast by his wild resounding River
The listless Coran lingers ever;
Still drives his heifers forth to feed,
Soothed by the gorrah's humming reed;
A rover still unchecked will range,
As humour calls, or seasons change;
His tent of mats and leathern gear
All packed upon the patient steer.
'Mid all his wanderings hating toil,
He never tills the stubborn soil;
......
I Ran to the forest for shelter,
Breathless, half sobbing;
I put my arms round a tree,
Pillowed my head against the rough bark.
"Protect me," I said. "I am a lost child."
But the tree showered silver drops on my face and hair.
A wind sprang up from the ends of the earth;
It lashed the forest together.
A huge green wave thundered and burst over my head.
I prayed, implored, "Please take care of me!"
......
When we were nine or ten and used to play
at dying - hands clasped to the chest,
Goodbye, beautiful world, I love you ! -
we didn't believe it could ever really be done.
Say goodbye to everything? A gunshot wound
In 'Alias Smith and Jones' could set us thinking -
please please don't die - or a feathered mess
that had been a pigeon squashed on the road
......
September rain falls on the house.
In the failing light, the old grandmother
sits in the kitchen with the child
beside the Little Marvel Stove,
reading the jokes from the almanac,
laughing and talking to hide her tears.
She thinks that her equinoctial tears
and the rain that beats on the roof of the house
were both foretold by the almanac,
......
A peaceful spot is Piper's Flat. The folk that live around -
They keep themselves by keeping sheep and turning up the ground;
But the climate is erratic, and the consequences are
The struggle with the elements is everlasting war.
We plough, and sow, and harrow - then sit down and pray for rain;
And then we get all flooded out and have to start again.
But the folk are now rejoicing as they ne'er rejoiced before,
For we've played Molongo cricket, and M'Dougal topped the score!
Molongo had a head on it, and challenged us to play
......
Dr. Foster lived in old fashioned London, and was content to stay there;
As red roses are content being caressed, by the wind from everywhere.
Dr. Foster loved his daily routine, like the violet repeat of honeyed days;
And he stuck to their rhythm faithfully, like a valentine heart, ever stays.
Besides, his work kept him quite busy, easing pain, and bringing smiles;
Like vermilion mountains at moonrise, or a colorful rainbow's hazy tiles.
Since failure isn't a familiar word in nature, like rebirth of spring flowers,
......
We had
So many days
With out the sun
That rain
On and off
It was horrible
Because the sky was
Always grey
I didn't go out
During the rainy days
......
Johnny MacAlister was six-years-old, young enough still for wishes,
Baby sister, Rosie, was all of three, all giggling and adorable kisses.
With fond, indulgent parents, the family was content in their home,
In a town, sleepy in sunlit day, where a scarlet cock used his comb.
Johnny played with Rosie every day. He loved to get her laughing;
As if a gaudy parade of jesters and clowns, chanced to be passing!
Forget-me-not days brought fast friends, in fruitful times of flowers,
......
Within this rattling of the metals above
And the heavenly grumbles, the grey void
The waterholes, frayed, loosened, dispatched . . .
Now, silences lose their grips.
It rains and there’s deep slumber
Tents’ pegs are mocked by watermud, recasting
Shadows of the primitive nights on days’ weakened rays
Silences, except for the rhythm known when it rains.
......
Raindrops whisper, pitter-patter,
Lullaby on rooftop tiles.
Gray clouds gather, shadows scatter,
World outside in soft exile.
Cozy nook, a steaming mug,
......