A little touch of inspiration

Rating:

Comment | Email |

This article has been submitted by a GrownUps member. GrownUps accepts no liability for its content and the views and information contained within are not necessarily those of the GrownUps website.

The following paragraphs are the last two from"Who left the bungs out" This poem is followed by " Never say Never"
The Christchurch Quake

A poem by
Maureen Clifford ©
Scribbly Bark Poetry 02/11

We know the last line also applies to our NZ friends

Above the sound of choppers as they do another sweep
at low level on the river – another soul pulled from the deep
and dirty turgid waters – she relinquishes her prize;
but somewhere, someone’s last held hope just dies.
We love a sunburnt country – this land of sweeping plains.
We love her though she sends us fires, cyclones, flooding rains.
We are grateful for the spirit and the fact that mates helps mate.
We will rise again – rebuild in every State.We’ve seen such devastation as we’ve never seen before
from the top end of Queensland down to Tassies emerald shore
The West is fighting fires and the Eastern states fight flood
and it seems as if the Mother’s after blood.
But we’ll rise again – we have before – we’ll fight another day
we are one but we are many, and we all have roles to play, and
if we stand united – put our shoulder to the wheel
it will turn again –get on an even keel.
We’re
Australians – we’ll bend but never kneel.You will find the rest of this poem on the Auspoet page at www.ausseniors.comNEVER SAY NEVER
THE CHRISTCHURCH QUAKEIn these troubled times it is hard to keep a perspective, but the one thing that seems to sustain all in times of trouble is faith and prayer, for at the end of the day that is often all we have - that and hopeIn the city of churches midst the dirt and dust and rubble
talking to the trapped and dying was a solitary man.
Solitary just in presence, for there were folks all around him
though they didn’t seem to notice that he held a fragile hand.
A sniffer dog stopped briefly and his plumy tail did wave
and a pink tongue licked the old man’s kindly face.
Not than anybody noticed, they were busy saving lives
and so was he. He helped them find a state of grace.
 
All around was frantic hurry, all around was grim despair..
but an air of calm surrounded this old bloke.
Whilst you noticed his lips moving, you never heard a word
and no time he took out for cuppa or smoke.
Then he stood and made a sign across his chest, his head was bowed
a tear slithered down his dark and dusty face;
slowly and carefully he scrambled over rubble on the ground
then he stooped and sat.  He’d found another place.
 
My mate works for the papers taking photographs and shots,
he had taken many photographs round there,
and he showed me all his footage – ‘twas enough to make one weep
when you saw the damage, carnage and despair.
The spire from the Cathedral was a tangled, tortured wreck
there were bricks and plaster scattered everywhere.
Crushed cars, and buses, flung aside as if of no account
as if some tyrant played without due care. 
I asked him where the old bloke was – I saw him there on site
but his face in not one photograph appeared.
My mate said that he hadn’t  even noticed an old bloke
yet I was right beside him watching as he peered
through the lenses of his camera, checking angles and light;
for his photo.  Indeed  I was sure of that.
One photo showed as clear as day the yellow Labrador
with tail waving – standing right where the bloke sat.. 
One lass pulled from the rubble – a miracle in itself
said a  fellow  held her hand – said to be brave,
and told her not to worry everything would be alright
they would get her out from ‘neath her concrete grave.
He stayed with her a long time, never showed a trace of fear
though she felt the movement of the earth below.
He never left her side until rescuers got her out
but when she went to thank him none had seen him go. 
I heard repeated often this story over the days
and weeks that followed . There’s no explanation
For no one working on the sites can recollect the bloke
Not one person saw him midst the devastation.
I reckon he’s a visitor that most folks cannot see
Though the  dogs all seemed  to know that he was there
I think he’s walked amongst us in our times of desperation
giving strength and hope to those without a prayer.
Maureen Clifford ©
Scribbly Bark Poetry

02/11 See Maureen on Youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7O3uge2OTl8 

Print | Bookmark