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> MATESHIP, Australian Bush Poetry
Maureen
post Apr 11 13, 06:33
Post #1


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From: Australia - The great Southern Land
Member No.: 5,178
Real Name: Maureen Clifford
Writer of: Poetry
Referred By:arnfinn



REVISED VERSION


MATESHIP

Two bays - Bewitched, Bedazzled….Witch and Dazza if you must.
A pair of well matched Clydesdales in whom Jack had total trust.
Old Witchy fancied apples and most days she ate a few
but Dazza was a carrot bloke – munched the odd one or two.
They were retired and both old now; by Jack owned many years.
His ergonomic lawn mowers. Hay burners without peers.
They'd done the hard yards in their day and withstood every test,
both held their own at local shows, were lauded as the best.

Bewitched was out of Moonlight Magic sired by Merlin's Son.
Bedazzled had a dad called Barry none recalled his Mum.
They both were bays, with feathers white, both stood at eighteen hands
though Daz was broader through the chest by an extra hand-span.
They’d feet the size of dinner plates, both had temperaments sweet
and mouths as soft as velvet, whiskered muzzles that would greet
Jack every morning, whickering, then search pockets for sugar
Old Jack would say ‘Sod off you pair - you’re bloody greedy buggers.’


Last night a storm had whistled through and up there on the ridge
a huge Ironbark had fallen right across the trestle bridge
that led to upper paddocks where Jack sometimes had to go,
to fetch down sheep and cattle to warmer pastures below.
The road was steep and winding, not a road, hardly a track.
His tractor wouldn’t make it. He’d rely on these two’s backs.
They’d once more wear the traces, heavy collars, metal hames
and he’d be sure to throw in extra ropes and snigging chains.

Eagles were flying when they left, soaring on thermals cold.
A Boggabilla morning with a light frost so 'twas told.
That frost would cause a problem though that fact they couldn’t know
and a friendship beyond price would stand the test - events will show.
They snigged the log and pulled it slow to the side of the track
across ground slick and slippery. On one side it dropped back
into a rocky gully , deep and dark with granite sides
where running water had eroded soil, caused small rock slides.

Old Witchy felt the ground beneath her back hoof start to go
and threw her weight into the trace, her uphill struggle slow.
Old Dazza got the message he was nimbler than she,
he took the strain and held her. Witchy fell onto her knees.
Jack sized the situation up real quick and cut the trace
and let the big log tumble o’er the edge into the race
of water flowing far below – then with a gentle hand
he grabbed old Witchy’s bridle and gave a calm command.

‘Hold hard Dazza. Hold hard’ he cried and he knew Dazza would
they’d a perfect understanding of each other as one should.
Though Dazza’s breath was coming hard his muscles took the strain,
till Jack got Witchy to her feet and on the road again.
A simple act of courage by one horse to save his mate;
she could have took him over – but he did not hesitate.
He never gave a thought to that, just did what must be done
and yet there’s those who still believe that animals are dumb.

Maureen Clifford ©
The Scribbly Bark Poet






MATESHIP

Two bays - Bewitched, Bedazzled….Witch and Dazza if you must.
A pair of well matched Clydesdales in whom Jack had total trust.
Old Witchy fancied apples and most days she ate a few
but Dazza was a carrot bloke – munched the odd one or two.
They were retired and both old now; by Jack owned many years.
His ergonomic lawn mowers. Hay burners without peers.
They'd done the hard yards in their day and withstood every test,
both held their own at local shows, were lauded as the best.

Bewitched was out of Moonlight Magic sired by Merlin's Son.
Bedazzled had a dad called Barry none recalled his Mum.
They were both bays, with feathers white both stood at eighteen hands
though Daz was broader through the chest by an extra hand-span.
They’d feet the size of dinner plates, both had temperaments sweet
and mouths as soft as velvet, whiskered muzzles that would greet
Jack every morning, whickering, then search pockets for sugar
Old Jack would say ‘Sod off you pair - you’re bloody greedy buggers.’


Last night a storm had whistled through and up there on the ridge
a huge Ironbark had fallen right across the trestle bridge
that led to upper pastures where Jack sometimes had to go,
to fetch down sheep and cattle to warmer pastures below.
The road was steep and winding, not a road, hardly a track.
His tractor wouldn’t make it. He’d rely on these two’s backs.
They’d once more wear the traces, heavy collars, metal hames
and he’d be sure to throw in extra ropes and snigging chains.

Eagles were flying when they left, soaring on thermals cold.
A Boggabilla morning with a light frost so 'twas told,
and frost would cause a problem though that fact they couldn’t know
but a friendship beyond price would stand the test as events show.
They snigged the log and pulled it slow to the side of the track
across ground slick and slippery. On one side it dropped back
into a rocky gully , deep and dark with granite sides
where the force of running water had eroded small rock slides.

Old Witchy felt the ground beneath her back hoof start to go
and she threw her weight into the trace her uphill struggle slow.
Old Dazza got the message he was nimbler than she,
he took the strain and held her. Witchy fell onto her knees.
Jack sized the situation up real quick and cut the trace
and let the big log tumble o’er the edge into the race
of water flowing far below – then with a gentle hand
he grabbed old Witchy’s bridle and gave a calm command.

‘Hold hard Dazza. Hold hard’ he cried and he knew Dazza would
they’d a perfect understanding of each other as one should.
Though Dazza’s breath was coming hard his muscles took the strain,
till Jack got Witchy to her feet and on the road again.
A simple act of courage by one horse to his old mate
for she could have took him over – but he did not hesitate.
He never gave a thought to that, just did what must be done
and yet there’s those who still believe that animals are dumb.

Maureen Clifford ©
The Scribbly Bark Poet

http://scribblybarkpoetry.blogspot.com.au/


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Arnfinn
post Apr 11 13, 07:40
Post #2


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Writer of: Poetry




Ha...My Ipswich friend.
You found my message.

You have arrived. pinkpanther.gif

Now MM is in for a treat. minniemouse.gif

I know how much you love horses and all animals.

And your poem did not miss a beat. Wizard.gif

A good choice I've read this before. troy.gif < this me Arnfinn, pudding faced with horns.

O'k everyone this is Maureen one of the most accomplished poets treading the bright lights of cyber country.

My very good friend I'm so happy you joined our poetry loving site.

Regards,

John



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Arnfinn

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Maureen
post Apr 11 13, 19:21
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Real Name: Maureen Clifford
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You are too kind John and might be just a tad prejudiced biggrin.gif blush.gif


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AMETHYST
post Apr 15 13, 13:41
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From: Florida
Member No.: 10
Real Name: Elizabeth
Writer of: Poetry
Referred By:Lori Kanter



Hello Again Maureen,

This is delightful and so lyrical. I enjoyed the images and sounds through out the poem. However, it was the lovely topic that caught me during your first few lines. Some comments and thoughts in stanza. I hope to see more of this type of poetry from you.

Best Regards, Elizabeth -

QUOTE (Maureen @ Apr 11 13, 07:33 ) *
MATESHIP

They were Bewitched and Bedazzled….Witch and Dazza if you must.
A pair of well matched Clydesdales in whom Jack had total trust.
Old Witchy fancied apples and most days she ate a few
but Dazza was a carrot bloke – munched the odd one or two.
They were both old and now retired; Jack had owned them for years.
Ergonomic lawn mowers. Hay burners without peers.
They'd done the hard yards in their day and withstood every test,
both held their own at local shows, were lauded as the best.

QUOTE
I enjoyed the lovely rhythm and partnerships in sound through this first stanza. The little nit I might have is in L3, where the missing beat - perhaps ...
Old Witchy fancied apples, but most days she ate quite a few
Perhaps in L5, .... Jack owned them many years.

I would have loved some details of the horses to paint a picture in my minds eye of them both - something that I can envision while being captured by such delights as them being lauded as the best ... What colors are they, what markings are unique to each one ... As the reader I would like to be invited in visually as much as mentally see these clydsedales ...


Last night a storm had whistled through and up there on the ridge
a huge Ironbark had fallen right across the trestle bridge
that led to upper pastures where Jack sometimes had to go,
to fetch down sheep and cattle to warmer pastures below.
The road was steep and winding, not a road, hardly a track.
His tractor wouldn’t make it. He’d rely on these two’s backs.
They’d once more wear the traces, heavy collars, metal hames
and he’d be sure to throw in some extra ropes and snigging chains.


Eagles were flying when they left, soaring on thermals cold.
A Boggabilla morning with a light frost so I was told,
and frost would cause a problem though that fact they couldn’t know
but a friendship beyond price would stand the test as events show.
They snigged the log and pulled it slow to the side of the track
across ground slick and slippery. On one side it dropped back
into a rocky gully , deep and dark with granite sides
where the force of running water had eroded small rock slides.

Old Witchy felt the ground beneath her back hoof start to go
and she threw her weight into the trace her uphill struggle slow.
Old Dazza got the message he was nimbler than she,
he took the strain and held her. Witchy fell onto her knees.
Jack sized the situation up real quick and cut the trace
and let the big log tumble o’er the edge into the race
of water flowing far below – then with a gentle hand
he grabbed old Witchy’s bridle and gave a calm command.

‘Hold hard Dazza. Hold hard’ he cried and he knew Dazza would
they’d a perfect understanding of each other as one should.
Though Dazza’s breath was coming hard his muscles took the strain,
till Jack got Witchy to her feet and on the road again.
A simple act of courage by one horse to his old mate
for she could have took him over – but he did not hesitate.
He never gave a thought to that, just did what must be done
and yet there’s those who still believe that animals are dumb.

Maureen Clifford ©
The Scribbly Bark Poet

http://scribblybarkpoetry.blogspot.com.au/


I have to leave work and will return to this later ...
However, I loved the poem and hope that something I left can help.


Best to you, Liz


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Maureen
post Apr 15 13, 20:16
Post #5


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Member No.: 5,178
Real Name: Maureen Clifford
Writer of: Poetry
Referred By:arnfinn



Thanks Liz for your suggestions which I have taken on board, and I have added an extra verse as per your suggestion to tell you a bit more about Witchy and Dazza

Cheers

Maureen


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AMETHYST
post Apr 16 13, 10:29
Post #6


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Posts: 3,822
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From: Florida
Member No.: 10
Real Name: Elizabeth
Writer of: Poetry
Referred By:Lori Kanter



Hello Maureen,

First I wanted to say how wonderful and delightful this poem has been to read, and the changes that have been done are quite successful. That opening line "Two bays" I immediately was taken in. It is amazing how just a twist of two words can bring a stanza to life.

Some in stanza comments to follow. What a wonderful additional stanza, especially phrases like ... Moonlight Magic sired by Merlin's Son and L2.

QUOTE
MATESHIP


Great fitting title.


QUOTE
Two bays - Bewitched, Bedazzled….Witch and Dazza if you must.
A pair of well matched Clydesdales in whom Jack had total trust.
Old Witchy fancied apples and most days she ate a few
but Dazza was a carrot bloke – munched the odd one or two.
They were retired and both old now; by Jack owned many years.
His ergonomic lawn mowers. Hay burners without peers.
They'd done the hard yards in their day and withstood every test,
both held their own at local shows, were lauded as the best.


As already mentioned, I love the change of the first line.


QUOTE
Bewitched was out of Moonlight Magic sired by Merlin's Son.
Bedazzled had a dad called Barry none recalled his Mum.
They were both bays, with feathers white both stood at eighteen hands
though Daz was broader through the chest by an extra hand-span.
They’d feet the size of dinner plates, both had temperaments sweet
and mouths as soft as velvet, whiskered muzzles that would greet
Jack every morning, whickering, then search pockets for sugar
Old Jack would say ‘Sod off you pair - you’re bloody greedy buggers.’


There is so much to enjoy in the stanza. I think L1 is magical and L2 is smooth and sounds dance off my tongue as I speak it aloud. In L3, I felt a trip in meter. Perhaps ...They both were bays with feathers white, both stood at eighteen hands -

Further trinkets I found here are 'whiskered muzzles, with a lovely partnership with whickering ... and your final line brings to life Jack and the bays. I fully completely enjoyed this on its own.


QUOTE
Last night a storm had whistled through and up there on the ridge
a huge Ironbark had fallen right across the trestle bridge
that led to upper pastures where Jack sometimes had to go,
to fetch down sheep and cattle to warmer pastures below.
The road was steep and winding, not a road, hardly a track.
His tractor wouldn’t make it. He’d rely on these two’s backs.
They’d once more wear the traces, heavy collars, metal hames
and he’d be sure to throw in extra ropes and snigging chains.


In L1, I liked again how the word 'whistled' linked back to whisked and whickered. I love when word sounds bounce around a poem, it really brings it to life. In L2 & L3, a minor nit - perhaps replacing pasture either in L2 or L3, with meadows, to help eliminate the close repeat of pastures. Also, I felt the 'to warmer pastures below' sort of stumbled to my ear. perhaps ...

Example:
that led to upper pastures, where Jack would sometimes have to go -
to fetch the sheep and cattle, t'ward warmer meadows down below

or

that led to upper pastures. Sometimes, Jack would have to go
and draw the sheep and cattle to warmer meadows down below.

draw/bring/lead/guide ... (just thoughts ... use what helps and discard the rest)


QUOTE
Eagles were flying when they left, soaring on thermals cold.
A Boggabilla morning with a light frost so 'twas told,
and frost would cause a problem though that fact they couldn’t know
but a friendship beyond price would stand the test as events show.
They snigged the log and pulled it slow to the side of the track
across ground slick and slippery. On one side it dropped back
into a rocky gully , deep and dark with granite sides
where the force of running water had eroded small rock slides.


I don't know what a Boggabilla morning is, but it sounds so beautiful. L4, felt stumbly - perhaps "a friendship way beyond the price, would stand the test - events will show.

perhaps in L6, adding 'the after across will smooth out a bumpy meter.

QUOTE
Old Witchy felt the ground beneath her back hoof start to go
and she threw her weight into the trace her uphill struggle slow.
Old Dazza got the message he was nimbler than she,
he took the strain and held her. Witchy fell onto her knees.
Jack sized the situation up real quick and cut the trace
and let the big log tumble o’er the edge into the race
of water flowing far below – then with a gentle hand
he grabbed old Witchy’s bridle and gave a calm command.


I would add a comma after trace in L2. and perhaps adding 'was' between than and she in L3. The stanza is lovely. I loved the adventurous voice here in, and the active word choices... I especially liked the final line - I sort of got nervous of what would be...

QUOTE
‘Hold hard Dazza. Hold hard’ he cried and he knew Dazza would
they’d a perfect understanding of each other as one should.
Though Dazza’s breath was coming hard his muscles took the strain,
till Jack got Witchy to her feet and on the road again.
A simple act of courage by one horse to his old mate
for she could have took him over – but he did not hesitate.
He never gave a thought to that, just did what must be done
and yet there’s those who still believe that animals are dumb.

Maureen Clifford ©
The Scribbly Bark Poet


Awesome final stanza. I love the steady, active tone through out and again, a nice control of sounds and presence in the poem. Only nit would be in L5,

A simple act of courage by one horse to his old mate (the shorter meter is sort of apparent)

Perhaps 'A simple act of courage by one horse, to save his mate" ...

Of course these are all just suggestions and ideas for your consideration. Please feel free to use or lose. Either way, the poem is wonderful and a must read.

Best to you, Liz




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Maureen
post Apr 16 13, 17:36
Post #7


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Group: Gold Member
Posts: 399
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From: Australia - The great Southern Land
Member No.: 5,178
Real Name: Maureen Clifford
Writer of: Poetry
Referred By:arnfinn



thank you Liz for your help and suggestions some of which I have used.

We are a bit short on meadows here in Australia but paddocks are pretty common so used that to eliminate the two pastures in close proximity to each other. Good pick up there thank you, because I had missed it.

A Boggabilla morning.... Boggabilla is one of those blink and you'll miss it towns - it has a small population of around 700, sits on the junction of two main highways, could hardly even be called a town with only a shop and a pub , a police station and motel but it is a rural community just across the Queensland border in NSW only about 12 klm from Goondiwindi. What it lacks in size is made up by the friendliness of the locals, and the beauty of the surrounding area where mornings generally are crisp and clean, with skies so free of pollution their blueness almost hurts your eyes.


One of the best ways to get a feel for an area is not to look at the piccies shown on the tourist web sites but to check out the piccies shown on the local real estate guides.

If you have the time and would like to have a stickybeak here is a link


Boggabilla Real Estate


Cheers

Maureen


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AMETHYST
post Apr 17 13, 09:48
Post #8


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Member No.: 10
Real Name: Elizabeth
Writer of: Poetry
Referred By:Lori Kanter



Hi Maureen,

Paddocks is perfect. It also adds to the alliteration between pastures, while it also adds a charisma to the visual images the reader receives. I loved the detailed additions of the bays - and the poem is so full of emotion.

The small towns in which you describe are exactly what I have always dreamed to live in - literally, ever since I was child I felt a need or longing, almost a deep seeded dream of a small and under populated country side town. Sometimes I can feel it so deep in me. I will surely check out that link. Thank you for that treasure.

When I get home from work I will reread the edits, but what I have read this far the changes really have enhanced the entire pleasure of the poem. Including adding some further depth to the experience of the reader.

Blessings to you, Liz
PS Thank you for such a wonderful poem!!!




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Maureen
post Apr 18 13, 20:28
Post #9


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Group: Gold Member
Posts: 399
Joined: 11-April 13
From: Australia - The great Southern Land
Member No.: 5,178
Real Name: Maureen Clifford
Writer of: Poetry
Referred By:arnfinn



No - thank you Liz for taking the time to encourage and comment - so happy the rewrite worked for you

Cheers

Maureen
The Scribbly Bark Poet


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