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Winter Down Under

Beyond the boundary of my own garden
Where trees and shrubs jostle for space and light are open fields,
Pastures where cows and kangaroos together roam and graze.
The earthy aroma of fresh field mushrooms blends with their dung

The damp glistening of verdant shoots,
The grasses that emerge following the early rains.
Streams renewed; flow with vigour to bring sustenance again
To the parched, brown hills and vales of Australia’s long hot summer.

Striding out in one’s old gum boots
Inflating lungs with moist air; my spirit sings.
Memories of past seasons return on nature’s cues;
Youth and past lives are revisited.

Beyond the ranges to the south-west
A looming front approaches from the Southern Ocean
Darkening the sky with deeper greys
And pale shadows grow long from the late afternoon sun.

I fasten my great coat to ward off chilly gusts
And stoop to gather some pearly white buttons before me.
An early winter harvest
To flavour the evening’s pot of soup.

(addendum: whoops! i should have waited for Joe to post his remarks-sorry. L)

Before reading Joe's listing of 'winners' and 'almosts' this stood out as my favorite entry. And after reading joe's list, it is still my fave, so i was really glad to see it get a special nod.

There's something about the language used; teetering between conversational and poetic (but not too much) that really appeals to me.

Stanza one is full of sights, sounds and scents that reveal themselves; subtle but clear. It really grabbed me!

I like the way the scenery is unfurled. A scan of the horizon, a turn inward, a physical note and a small gesture that tatoos this piece in my mind as a complete package and worth visiting again.

L

To those "critics" who questioned my topic of "winter" I humbly submit the dear person who submitted this poem. "Winter" is a relative term to most of us.

The concreteness of the imagery and the general flow, I think is outstanding. The only things that held this back from extreme excellence in my mind, were a few rather cliched images that reach toward large issues like "Streams renewed; flow with vigour to bring sustenance again/To the parched, brown hills and vales of Australia's hot summer."

I find this a bit wordy and the overall theme of rains renewing a desert is both familiar and not done in a particularly interesting fashion. There are some other similar passages. I urge you, also, to revise this and if interested send it to some other disinterested folks who can help critique this outstanding effort closely. Good luck with this.

Joe

Here Witty Owl puts up his hand.
Laurie, thanks for you remarks on this poem. I'm glad that you liked it and I am also happy that you absorbed something of the intent of the poem.
Joe I am also pleased that you saw merit in this piece of writing. I appreciate your comments re the cliched images but this is exactly how I saw the environment I am describing. The cliches are an unconscious expression. I shall seriously consider your suggestions but I am inclined to leave the writing as it unfolded. The environment I describe is not a desert but hilly country near to the sea with a mediterranean climate.
This is one where I really did try to address your criteria; i.e. to show rather than tell.

Cheers, Witty.

Joe Way wrote:Winter Down Under

Beyond the boundary of my own garden
Where trees and shrubs jostle for space and light are open fields,
Pastures where cows and kangaroos together roam and graze.
The earthy aroma of fresh field mushrooms blends with their dung

The damp glistening of verdant shoots,
The grasses that emerge following the early rains.
Streams renewed; flow with vigour to bring sustenance again
To the parched, brown hills and vales of Australia’s long hot summer.

Striding out in one’s old gum boots
Inflating lungs with moist air; my spirit sings.
Memories of past seasons return on nature’s cues;
Youth and past lives are revisited.

Beyond the ranges to the south-west
A looming front approaches from the Southern Ocean
Darkening the sky with deeper greys
And pale shadows grow long from the late afternoon sun.

I fasten my great coat to ward off chilly gusts
And stoop to gather some pearly white buttons before me.
An early winter harvest
To flavour the evening’s pot of soup.

nice, another land, another voice!

What I enjoy in this piece is the movement between the wonderful description of the scenery and the writer's relationship to it. As I move to the third stanza, I already have a clear picture in my mind, and I can relate to the deep breath as the writer looks out. Then there is the coming storm, as he bends down to take a part of the land for the soup. And this is my favorite part of the poem as I interpret that a part of the joy is being brought in, become sustenance of his life. If I'm reading too much into it, then the poem is complimented further by the fact that it is full enough to allow for these interpretations.

I really enjoy this poem, a fine piece of work!

Yes John, you have perceived the essential spirit of my intention. Further to your comment on the sustenance from the land (the field mushrooms). The environment or the land itself nourishes the self in more ways than just the physical feed.
Thanks for your comments.

Cheers, Witty.