Making pictures in the dark

I have noticed Adriaan's interest in poetry and that rekindled mine. Over the years I have written some so Adriaan has asked me if I want to give it a voice.

Just so you know I was also the author of 'The Pig's Know' story on this blog a couple of weeks ago. That was not a poem but a word picture in full daylight.

Building on the pig theme, I have a poem. It is also a story and this time it all happens at Narrabri and in the dark. So here goes:

‘Old Tusker’

(The Wild Boar of Narrabri)

The sun sank low on the Pilliga dust,
A difficult place to eke out a crust.
Heat haze and flies are always there.
Rugged men…. These places share.

“That rotten pig has ripped the fence”
Said Reg…….. a man of great pretence.
“The ewes all gone right through the break,
I’ll get that blighter, no mistake!”

His brother, a man of very few words,
Kept his poise as he fed the birds.
“Old Tusker!” was all the talk he made,
As Doug collected the eggs new laid.

One Old Ram, hindered by his horns,
Remained to pick among the thorns,
While Reg turned the air fair blue,
Telling Doug just what he’d do.

“Get that pig around the throat … …....”
“Ride‘im like‘e is a goat ……………...”
“Kick‘is head in” …. “Make‘im squeal.”
No end of violence Reg would deal.

In pitch dark they went to prowl,
Looking for this creature foul.
Armed they were with lamp and gun,
Three dogs beside them on the run.

“I’ll sweep the lamp, you use the gun.”
Said Reg: “Be ready set to run!”
He strobed with many a threatening word,
So the pig’s approach he never heard.

Old Tusker had seen this all before.
A mean, angry and wily old boar,
Go for the lamp, first put it out.
Make the odds then turn about.

When finally he charged into view,
There was one thing left for Reg to do.
Jump, to avoid those terrible tusks.
Men in their path are less than husks.

Reg leapt – how he leapt and flung the lamp,
Up high he went like a vaulting champ.
But in his haste he mistook it’s track,
And landed astride that brutal back.

One trouser cuff had caught a tusk,
Holding fast and taking him brusque.
Reg grabbed the tail to steady his seat.
He yelled in fright with a mighty bleat.

Three dogs, up tight, came full alert.
At chasing things they were expert.
They closed the gap with greatest ease
And found this leg out in the breeze.

One caught a boot and held that fast.
Reg was splitting and very aghast.
The cuff gave way under the stress.
He and the dog were left in a mess.

The other two dogs continued the chase,
While Reg used a stick to sort out his case.
He clobbered the dog – an act of defence
And made his own way across to the fence.

Reg climbed a gate, sat there with poise,
Followed his dogs by dent of their noise.
Round in an arc the mighty chase bent,
Back down the fence in pursuit they went.

Reg listened for the tread of the ugly beast,
He would have one blow on his head at least.
He raised his stick and steadied his aim.
With a ferocious swing he managed to maim.

“I got’im, I got’im!” yelled Reg all aglow.
“I knew I could do it with only one blow!”
“That taught‘im a lesson, I busted‘is head!”
“Pig rippin’s all over, like mutton‘es dead!”

Doug came across, now holding the lamp,
Ready to bolster this self proclaimed champ.
He shone it around to find the dead ham …..
And said to his brother: “Ya Got the Old Ram!”

© Jim with ‘Tusker’