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Poetry
The Hill
By Robru
14 March 2008
This is a mixture of prose and poetry. We call it a hybrid poem. Comments as to structure would be appreciated.



                                          THE HILL

                          Remove the dark thoughts from your mind
                          You may join me if you will
                          To visit the ancient spirits
                          That reside up on the hill.

              There are spirits here, on the hill. Well, its not much of a hill really. About one hundred feet high, with steep rocky approaches to two sides, a gradual slope from another and the boundary fence staggers across the higher part. There is always an aura of peace and tranquility up there. Scrubby pine trees, boxthorn and large gum trees make a variety of sheltered clearings. My chainsaw doesn't work well on the hill, but is fine anywhere else. I guess the spirits don't like the noise. The old four wheel drive Land Cruiser bumps its way over rocks on the track that were not there last time.

                        There are no signs of artifacts,
                        No rock paintings or such things,
                        Yet I feel the spirits up here;
                        They are pulling on my strings.

            I am permitted to drive along the fence line, checking for fallen trees, broken wires , but find driving elsewhere a real chore. Logs, rocks and detours are forever appearing  from nowhere. The actual soil is no good for farming, too many rocks, too many trees and, of course, too rough. Yet, I can walk comfortably from one clearing to the next with ease. It's quiet and not unusual to find a few contented cows having a siesta with the 'roos and wallabies in amongst the trees. Even my three dogs are accepted as if they were born here.

                      The clay soil's no good for farming
                      Outcropping rocks and trees galore,
                      With lovely grassy meadows
                      Like I've never seen before.

          There are no artifacts from ancient cultures, no rock paintings, no stone tools or weapons or any signs of human habitation at all. There are snakes, lizards and a wide variety of birds. I am wrapped in peace up here, the troubles of the world cease to exist for a time. I feel I am in another world. Then I look through the gaps between the trees; there below is the line of trees marking the river, the old homestead, or  just the cultivation paddocks.

                      The clearings are so well sheltered
                      That birds and wildlife call them home,
                      Scrubby bushes and tall gum trees
                      Form a good protective dome.

          The hill being the highest point of the farm means that  most of the farm can be seen in snippets through various gaps between the trees, etc. It's quite wonderful spending time up here, just wandering from one clearing to another and letting the mind be free. Free to dream, to ponder the progress of  mankind, the colours of the birds or perhaps, the next story to write. I believe the spirits on the hill deter the entrance of daily living problems and thus free the mind of constraints that normally impede  our pursuit of contentment.

                    All these tranquil little meadows
                    Tempt me to stay and rest,
                    But daily chores are there to do.
                    And I will give my best.

Reviews

Written by Diddi (80 comments posted) 14th March 2008
Bob I always loved this piece. I also know the hill well. We'll have to spend some time there, to farewell the spirits, or they us before we leave the farm. We won't be allowed back. 
 
I do hope you write some more 'hybrids' later. There's a kind of balance in them. I like the way the prose enhances the verse. 
 
Lis 
 
Rob
Written by fellpony (1600 comments posted) 14th March 2008
are you Diddi's "other half"? I like the description of the farm and the hill view. I don't know that the poetry stanzas worked all that well though; they feel a bit manufactured. Have you read any of my non fiction things on Cumbrian farming, or Patterjack's "Dondingalong" series? (That is well worth looking up.)

Written by Phil (6681 comments posted) 14th March 2008
There's something that draws me into this. I think the love of the place you describe transfers to the reader and I feel some of that too. 
 
I'm not sure whether (for me) either form worked well though. The prose passed over a little too much of the personal over to the poetry,but the poetry didn't go deep enough. Just a personal response.  
 
I guess the thing that matters is the content drew me but the form kept me at arms length. 
 
Phil

Written by Robru (212 comments posted) 14th March 2008
Firstly toFellpony. Thank you for you constructive comments and yes Diddi is the other half. You have given me food for thought to work on this piece to get it right. It has been on another site for some months but the comments have not been constructive. 
 
Second ly to Phil. You too have added food for thought. I am really only a learner and have an open mind. Your last line: " the content drew me but the form kept me at arms length" means to me that the presentation needs work. Thank you for that message.

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