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Farmland road dense with flies
edged with Queen Anne's lace
winds through green paddocks
past watery vestiges of flood.
Blackberry canes flaunt thorns and ruby fruit.
The road leads to a scandal of the past.
Malicious crows crarck crarck
“He's old she's young.”
crarck crarck “You'd think he'd have more sense”
crarck crarck.
A kookaburra laughs his mockery of love.
Hoohahahahadulteryhahadultery!
But then the liquid voice of magpie
rumples the air
and carols joy in love.
The road winds back the years
to lovers old now
gossip not forgotten.
Posted with Blogsy
Malicious tongues? Malice aforethought š Love lost.. and in such gentle surroundings. Hoorah for the magpie!
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Hello Jo. I notice that you have just started to follow me. Welcome!!
The more I think about the memories that came back to me on this walk about an old love affair, the more I see echoes of my own experience! Not in my head in the first place. I need the voice of the magpie as a counter to my natural tendency to outrage.
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Hiya darlin’. I thought I was following you, Meg, but you know how it is with WP. I can always find you if I come looking š
Ah- that puts a different complexion on it.
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Brilliantly crafted, Meg… conjures up images from a past, and some great lines. The kookaburra’s voice is brilliant, and I love the imagery of “blackberry canes flaunt thorns and ruby fruit”….a brilliant metaphor for the whole situation
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A metaphor that came from the subconscious. I only recognised its resonances later. I’m honoured by your appreciation.
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Meg, I’m frequently in awe of your writing skills…
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I love your poetry, and equally your photography. That last shot would have enticed Monet with those clouds. Fantastic eye you have.
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Thank you – compliment indeed from a woman with an eye of her own. That last shot insisted on being included. However, I think it can mean something if you stretch it.
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Should I admit to reading the first line as malice of cows? My initial thought was, Oh, no, Meg has been attacked by a herd of cows during one of her walks. Glad to discover that it is just my eyes that need adjustment (but in all fairness it is late and I only have one lamp on and that font is very scrawly.) Love the photos, LOVE the bird talk, though damn those kookaburras and their wretched gossip, love the way you recall your memories… ā¤ ā¤
PS it is Anne not Mary š
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“Malice of cows” suggests a whole other story! Thanks for correcting my botany: shows the state of my memory. I’ve just found a totally enigmatic note in my diary – no recollection of writing it, no clue what it means. Thank you for all the loving.
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Just been reading about how walkers get ‘trampled’ by herds of cows so it was on my mind.
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I love the layers of meaning in this – like the memories came pouring back with the flood to be looked at again then, hopefully, cleansed in all that water.
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I was unbelievably hesitant to post this, and I approached comments with trepidation. Do you ever feel like this about a post? Thank you for reassurance.
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I mostly feel like that. My latest post is a case in point. I really wanted to say what I said but am worried about linking it to the poetry site the prompt came from. There are so many fine and eloquent poets on that site. It’s intimidating. I liked the prompt though. I am taking a new attitude to my blog this year after all my doubts last year and all the feedback I got from others. I’m now looking it as a place to post rough drafts of ideas that might grow into more developed pieces at some future time. I love feedback – it really helps me hone my ideas but now take the attitude that if people don’t like my blog they can just not read it. š
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I don’t think I’d dare post on a poetry site. But I agree about this being a kind of draft. Even if no one suggests anything, once it’s posted I can see things I couldn’t see before that could need changing. For example, now I’m wondering whether the lines at the start should be combined into longer ones.
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My main problem is discovering typos – but then you have probably noticed that š Editing haiku is on going for me. I print out posts that I want to work on then paste them into journals for later editing. It’s absorbing and is part of the creative process I think.
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An interesting insight into a way of working. Thank you
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I wrote a long reply to this but now WordPress is telling me I didn’t . I will reply again and hope it doesn’t double up. Yes, I often feel like that. Most of the time really. Since my blogging crisis of last year I am more relaxed about it though. Someone said something about blog posts being a kind of rough draft where we can get feedback. The ideas in the post can then be reworked if necessary. I really like that idea and have found it very helpful.
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This is a brilliantly crafted tale. Your photos and words have conjured up images of an idyllic Australian (dense with flies!) summer day, tinged with mystery. It had me hanging on to each line and I can hear the birds, especially the “liquid voice” of our beautiful magpie. As I write this comment the “malicious crows crarck crarck” outside in my garden. This is one of your best posts Meg. I love it.
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Thank you so much. It was strange how the gossip came back to me as I walked the road to the property in question. I would’ve thought that too would’ve been swallowed up in the abyss where my memories seem to go. And strange how the birds took on the role of commentators. I’d never heard so many crows mid-morning.
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The crows here are a deadly nuisance. They have chased all the small native birds away and they start calling in that awful raucous voice at the crack of dawn, and of course they love perching in all the trees in my garden. Grrrrrrrrrrrr…
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Just make sure you don’t give them any cause to gossip! I have a soft spot for them, despite their portrayal here. Their cry sounds not unlike Margaret: it reminds me of my mother calling me home at dusk from my best friend’s place when I was a kid.
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They are said to be one of the most intelligent animals, even rivalling monkeys and using tools I have read. http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/article-2590046/Crows-intelligent-CHILDREN-Study-reveals-birds-intelligence-seven-year-old.html
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I salute you Madam Poet, what glorious writing.
And, you would laugh if you heard me try to say hahahahadultery in a kookaburra’s voice!
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Tape and post! I love the title Madam Poet, thank you, but I’m very hesitant to accept it.
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