`
From higher ground
to the valley below
wound through tributaries
the Bremer and Moggill
swept past my home
then slithered to the sea
an ocean of thought
this fear sets me free
my yesterdays erase
the future still unclear
each sunny day raises
a pristine cup of promise
each little drop of rain
will wash or drown
should salve these wounds
only to be wind-dried
its dust gets in my tears
`
Comments
Hello Ian
I've been to Clontarf, a nice little spot. Good to know your family is safe. My family was evacuated and displaced for several days. But we are now home and a semblance of normalcy has finally come upon us - hence my opportunity to go back on the www. I am hoping that the city planners would take this opportunity to do just what you suggest. Thanks you for your kind words, CB.
Having been...
keeping up with the floods and all, I have a special feeling for this poem. It's sad that so many people have died. This poem has the feel of that sadness. It seems as though you have hope, [The pristine cup of promise.], also a certain amount of resignation, that this is a part of nature, and that if you don't have floods, you have arid conditions. There is nothing that I can say, that would make this poem better. ~ Geezer
Yes Gee
There is a certain stoicism and resignation mixed in with the joy of hope. Several years down the road this will be fertile ground for future poems. Thanks for sharing your insight and thoughts. CB
It is so J
There are too many over here that have suffered varying degrees of loss. It is something that will not be quickly forgotten. Thanks for your kind and perceptive words. CB