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Array ( [sid] => 82079 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Hometown [time] => 2005-01-30 01:09:52 [hometext] => I couldn't think of a better 50th posting than a bittersweet homage to my home town. I hope it strikes a chord with some... [bodytext] =>

Desert country, sky like glass, highway fringed with Spinifex grass
The soil and dust an ochre red, the memories live within my head.
The wide main street, with man’s precision,
Cuts through town like an black incision
Cuts through my heart and into my mind,
Into the past I left behind.

Summer’s heat bakes this town, an oven that shrivels all to ground
Life retreats from the radiant heat, the rare Southerly cool and sweet.
And Winters too, cold and dry,
No hope of rain in the vast blue sky
Thunderheads tease in the distance,
but rarely break a drought’s resistance.

A quietude hangs on the air, a ghostly emptiness always there
Despite the traffic and the clubs, and the occasional violence from the pubs.
Life is slow here, a turtle’s pace,
an alternative to the city’s race
But stifling to the hungry-hearted,
Most of whom have long departed.

Still, country living is hard to resist; like everywhere good and bad co-exist
For every beaten kid and crying wife, someone is living a happy life.
And somewhere here is a familiar child,
Growing up happy and wild
Before life starts wearing him down,
Enjoying life in a rural town. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 185 [topic] => 44 [informant] => spike [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 33 [ratings] => 7 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Nostalgic )

Hometown

Contributed by spike on Sunday, 30th January 2005 @ 01:09:52 AM in AEST
Topic: Nostalgic

Desert country, sky like glass, highway fringed with Spinifex grass
The soil and dust an ochre red, the memories live within my head.
The wide main street, with man’s precision,
Cuts through town like an black incision
Cuts through my heart and into my mind,
Into the past I left behind.

Summer’s heat bakes this town, an oven that shrivels all to ground
Life retreats from the radiant heat, the rare Southerly cool and sweet.
And Winters too, cold and dry,
No hope of rain in the vast blue sky
Thunderheads tease in the distance,
but rarely break a drought’s resistance.

A quietude hangs on the air, a ghostly emptiness always there
Despite the traffic and the clubs, and the occasional violence from the pubs.
Life is slow here, a turtle’s pace,
an alternative to the city’s race
But stifling to the hungry-hearted,
Most of whom have long departed.

Still, country living is hard to resist; like everywhere good and bad co-exist
For every beaten kid and crying wife, someone is living a happy life.
And somewhere here is a familiar child,
Growing up happy and wild
Before life starts wearing him down,
Enjoying life in a rural town.

Copyright Â© spike ... [ 2005-01-30 01:09:52]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: Hometown (User Rating: 1 )
by DreamWeaver on Sunday, 30th January 2005 @ 03:29:41 AM AEST
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This poem deserves the highest of accolades ... well thought out, well presented, love the rhyming, the structure ... and obviously you love your home town, great poem ... Jan

Re: Hometown (User Rating: 1 )
by Silent-No-More on Monday, 7th February 2005 @ 12:53:56 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

With regard to your note at the top.... Nor can I, and yes - it did.

But stifling to the hungry-hearted,
Most of whom have long departed.

... sad, isn't it, how many walk away? And worse... how few ever look back.
Thank goodness for that wild child. : )

~SNM~

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