(1915 - 2000 / New South Wales / Australia)

Bora Ring

The song is gone; the dance
is secret with the dancers in the earth,
the ritual useless, and the tribal story
lost in an alien tale.

Only the grass stands up
to mark the dancing-ring; the apple-gums
posture and mime a past corroboree,
murmur a broken chant.

The hunter is gone; the spear
is splintered underground; the painted bodies
a dream the world breathed sleeping and forgot.
The nomad feet are still.

Only the rider's heart
halts at a sightless shadow, an unsaid word
that fastens in the blood of the ancient curse,
the fear as old as Cain.

User Rating: 2,3 / 5 ( 3 votes ) 18

Comments (18)

Good poem xd hahahahahahahah
i saw someone eat a sock. I did it after that too
i once saw judths daughter meredith eat a sock
what is the tone and mood of this poem I need heeellppp
huge dog lole i cat elive
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