Array ( [sid] => 161583 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Wild Country. [time] => 2010-08-03 07:13:22 [hometext] => A portrait of an intimate wild landscape. [bodytext] => This is wild country,
Vast open skies atop lonely hills
Straddled by remote farms,
The bleating of sheep
And the sinister cry of the buzzard.

This is dream making country,
The sing song splash of water over rocks,
The sigh of the wind through abseiling bracken,
The far skyline heavy with a promise,
Never asked for but always fulfilled.

This is poetry writing country,
Trees dancing and swaying in a haunted copse,
The high ridges sparse and aloof and silent,
A stillness deeper than the river and a moment devoured
By the shrieking cry of the hovering Kite.

This is my country
An intimate portrait of man and landscape
Blended together by water, sky and meadows.
The loneliness of hills my brother, the cry of buzzard
My song sang for this wild solitary place. [comments] => 4 [counter] => 188 [topic] => 27 [informant] => cashfan1 [notes] => Corrected spelling as requested (I hope, as I wasn't sure about one of the word uses..."absailing"). Please go to the edit / delete forum if further editing is needed. Thank you. ~ Moderator_18 Aug 3, 2010 [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 0 [associated] => [topicname] => NaturePoetry ) Your Poetry Dot Com - Wild Country.


Wild Country.
Date: Tuesday, 3rd August 2010 @ 07:13:22 AM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: cashfan1
This is wild country,
Vast open skies atop lonely hills
Straddled by remote farms,
The bleating of sheep
And the sinister cry of the buzzard.

This is dream making country,
The sing song splash of water over rocks,
The sigh of the wind through abseiling bracken,
The far skyline heavy with a promise,
Never asked for but always fulfilled.

This is poetry writing country,
Trees dancing and swaying in a haunted copse,
The high ridges sparse and aloof and silent,
A stillness deeper than the river and a moment devoured
By the shrieking cry of the hovering Kite.

This is my country
An intimate portrait of man and landscape
Blended together by water, sky and meadows.
The loneliness of hills my brother, the cry of buzzard
My song sang for this wild solitary place.

This poem is Copyright © cashfan1


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