Four poems for the Blue Mountains fires where I lived for thirteen years! Australiana Testing times for the Australians You left on my page today Well I shall let you know Thats what Australia is all about. Routine should I say, And no Im not bragging. The work of a day Cyclone, bushfire Floods, droughts, Dust storms Even earthquakes Weve got them all. The forces of apocalypse At work continuously Shaping our psyche As well as the land The Australians are a rough lot, For sure, so is the continent. One is never far from a catastrophe Whether be it in Western Australia, Queensland Victoria, Tasmania, ACT South Australia, Northern Territory Now New South Wales Always on the qui vive And that is a certainty. The renown country Of Milk and honey Thats another story. Lucette C. Bailliet © ------------------------------------- David and Goliath Nineteen small squads Of volunteer fire brigades Are the first line of defence To fight on the eighty kilometre Along the highway It is David versus Goliath Once again. You know men and women Covered in yellow woollen overalls For all protection are risking their life Fighting step by step In uneven terrain Against a roaring wall of fire Carried by turbulent winds. They are fighting in deep gullies Separated by steep ridges Where the wind speeds up the slope. It is a losing battle That many over the years Have paid dearly With their lives. But they dont give up Stubbornly they built fire breaks In the middle of the fire storm. They look for natural chasm Using the wind itself as an ally To fight the fire itself Wherever possible. They are using their brain Against the monsters brawn. Lucette C. Bailliet © --------------------------------------- Night and day When the grey yellowish smog Fills the valleys and gullies downwards When the air reeks of eucalyptus smoke That it becomes barely breathable When the invisible helicopters whirs Day in and out around the place Filling and emptying Bucket load after bucket load In an unending aerial dance To douse the frontline When the highway is closed To normal traffic When even the trains have stopped Then you know that fire Is on your door step You are at its mercy The monster has been unleashed. You are anxiously waiting For the next quarterly hourly weather forecast Announcing a possible change coming Or bracing yourself Against any worsening conditions. Then night falls unannounced Amidst all this surrounding greyness It gets worse as view is obliterated The night will be long Not trusting to get to sleep In case of evacuation As you might not get More than a few minutes warning. Morning emerges still grey The conditions have worsened The awaiting stretches Nerves to their limits Children and pets are kept inside The choppers are whizzing around. Lucette C. Bailliet © ------------------------------------------------------ Seasonal hell A few years ago, My daughter stated categorically That the season she hated most Was summer which is rather rare For an Australian kid. When I raised a quizzical eyebrow As a question she answered That the reason why that was Was very simple, it was mainly The season of fires. For her the Christmas holidays Were smudged by the ever present threat Of rampant fires. It was the season when we stopped Walking and trekking Found ourselves to be Always on the qui vive. True that year we went Through six fires lighted By an insane firebug Within three months. Nowadays she would say That spring and summer Are the seasons She hates the most For we are only mid spring And already twice The region has been touched. Lucette C. Bailliet ©
Posted on: Mon, 21 Oct 2013 14:30:58 +0000
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