Here we have another ‘Bush Verse’ from the pen of Ray Jackson. You will have enjoyed his last poem, Camooweal Billabong, earlier this year. The following verse was entered in the Aust Bush Poets Assoc awards in Toodyay earlier this year and won 2nd in the Serious Division (novice).
A Challenging Land
The raucous cry of cockatoos that whirl and screech on high
fill every hour throughout the day like ghosts of years gone by
Where once men camped upon the banks while raging rivers race
and herds of fat stock drank their fill at their own slow calm pace
Eight years have passed since rain last fell to soak this land so vast
but ever drier now it gets as each new year goes past
The stock have gone all sold or killed the ringers no more ride and
the station gardens now are dead no more a source of pride
Sheds and yards stand silent too and slowly fall apart by
a grand old homestead bare and broken like its owners heart
She stands alone and softly weeps for days that used to be
with the husband and the child no more that she can see
The child gone at just five years too young to leave this life
while the man she loved had tried so hard but also left his wife
She could not stay and work the land alone and getting frail
so walked away a broken soul, she knew that she would fail
Painting : Evening- by Russell Drysdale
Why had she come, what drew her back to once more feel the pain
of this cursed land that took her love but would not give her rain
Deep in her heart she knew one day the rich green grass would grow
and once again the raging river deep and wide would flow
But not this year nor even next there was no guarantee
this cruel brown land that they had loved would ever greener be
So turning now to face the sun now fading in the west
she sadly sighed I tried my love but could not pass the test
Ten dry years have slowly passed and rain now soaks the ground
Green grass again feeds hungry stock their bodies sleek and round
While ringers with their cracking whips ride horses small and tough
to chase and work those hardy beasts though days are long and rough
It seems as time has never passed to see this scene unfold
where men and beasts and house and yards are just like days of old
But on a hill above this place once left to fall apart
three lonely crosses mark the place that holds a broken heart.
Ray Jackson
Moya Sharp
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