Scorched Spotted Gums - Clyde mountain (Jan 2020)
Scorched Spotted gums, as silent sentinels, stand.
Stoic, stunned, submitting their sap and spots,
Shedding skins and surrendering their souls,
To the searing shooting stars of fire.
These threatened treasures, now stripped of life’s desire,
Collateral damage in cataclysmic ire.
Black, burnt, beheaded,
Beaten, blazed, betrayed,
Our once flourishing coastal forests,
Full of fern fronds and furry fauna,
Now furiously flayed.
Waiting, wishing for the welcome Wet,
Our teardrops seeking, beseeching
The heavens to open, and relent,
With rejuvenating, refreshing rain,
To restore the forests, the earth,
Our shattered hopes and lives again.
Then, soon, the regrowth, the rebirth,
The green fronds and feathered leaves,
Will once again restore the threatened treasures.
Bonnie Atteridge
THE SEA AND ROCKS -TOLLGATES
Looking far to Tollgate islands,
The silvery haze
Shimmers on the waves.
Then looking near,
To rocks round Circuit beach.
Here, years of ocean’s tears,
Are weeping, seeping, trickling
Over criss-cross crevasses,
Through jigsawed-rock jetties.
A barren Lilliput of layered canyon lands?
But no, for glimpse the tiny hosts,
And scrabbling, wandering pilgrims,
Linger-lining these rocky roads,
To welcome baptism in the saviour sea.
They cling, hiding, pressed in shells,
Beneath streaked cliffs, worn pebbles, sandy shores,
Sharing rockpools with skeletons of homes
And maybe scattered bones.
Awakening to the swirling,
The mottly foam and gush of tide.
See peaceful rolling, waves,
Exploring, waterfalling,
Over cascades of steps,
As if petrified sponge-masses
Were wringing salty tears
From sea-beds and crusty hermits,
Before rushing, sighing,
Returning to the Deep.
Bonnie Atteridge Recovery ? Tentative tendrils reach skyward, As Clyde Mountain mists swirl high. Splashes of green Grow out of spotted, scorched black gums. Feathery fern-fronds unfurl into the blue again. Black dust muddies into grey with welcome rain. The seared carpet begins to grow Into new tapestries of coloured threads. The silent creatures stir and come out from below. Towns from Malua to Mogo and Cobargo, Shattered by the fiery balls, Spread out their welcome mats, Alongside their twisted sculptures of burnt offerings. The firestorm now a distant haze, Recovery now looks to brighter days. We wonder at each mystery, We have hope, give thanks for each recovery. And life goes on, it seems. Yet, now, We whisper, worried, at invisible virus threats, We hibernate and isolate, no longer congregate. Fearful of new changes to our world, our lives, Our sleepy beaches and beloved Bay, Wondering when this will ever dissipate, Waiting breathless, for first hints of recovery. Just asking why? And where, and when, and if, Soon, will we need to say goodbye? Or will this piece of paradise pass it by? Bonnie Atteridge ***************************************************************** The Beagle COVID-19 LOCKDOWN WRITING COMPETITION is NOW OPEN
The Beagle announces its COVID-19 LOCKDOWN WRITING COMPETITION To coincide with the Mayor’s Writing Competition (ages 5 to 18) that is currently open for entries THE BEAGLE is announcing the 2020 Beagle Writing Competition is also OPEN J ust like the Mayor's competition entrants can write on any theme, using any style of creative writing, and the judges will be looking for imaginative writing with a unique plot. Entries close at 5pm on Sunday April 26th. Winners announced thereafter. RULES: 18 + (anyone younger can enter the Mayor's contest - this one is for adults ) Max of 1000 words.
Any subject that is Eurobodalla related.
Can NOT be defamatory, inflammatory or too lavatory
Published at the editor's discretion on The Beagle website and in Beagle FB
Judges have final say. No bribery allowed.
Real names are not required for entrants. Nom de plumes accepted.
First Prize $100 voucher from Moruya Books
Entries to be emailed to beagleweeklynews@gmail.com
