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Red,

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by

e m

on 20 October 2013

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Transcript of Red,

By The River, Free Verse Poetry ~Elly McLean
"
T
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C
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o
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O
f

M
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T
o
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"

WORK
Six Years Old!
Happiness...
Red,
Was the sun dying the clouds.
rising above the roofs
.

My brothers hair,
Wrecking and running a muck,





Hiding, safe in the bushes,
A flaming auburn mess.

Yellow,
Was the daisies,
smattering the paths
Beside my walk to school.

Daises, circling my sisters neck,







Her own golden chain.

BLUE
Was the pen ink,


Stained everlastingly in my skin.


Hundreds of stories engraved.

The uniform.



the clear crisp, azure sky.
Love
SuNdAy MoRnInG
BROWN
Was my mums eyes.





Always watching, loving.

Soft like warm
melted chocolate
on a summers day
White,

Were the clouds wisping away,

To be replaced

by the daunting ashen,
Then the thick and dark.

The sky transforming
Into the perfect storm.


Every morning

I hear Devlin screaming with laughter,









Just scraping out of mums grasp.

I feel mums heavy ugg boots,
The steps shaking the house
coming for me next.
I see Erin crouched, giggling in a corner.
I can taste the bitter sting
On my tongue,
Mums coffee lingering in the air.
“Mum, why do you drink coffee?”
Devlin yells out as I chuck him over my shoulder,

Feeling his little fists beating on my back.
“To keep me awake Devlin, I’ve got to work”

And everything continues...
A mess and a wild frenzy.



Mum rushes,
smiling out of the door first

Into her car.
Seat belt strapped in.
Ready for the job she loves.
I start wondering...
Is she waiting in her car
before it starts?






Thinking of the day ahead.

And loving it...
Thank You For Listening!
We hold hands.
Breathing deeply, shaking.

We jump form the top of the bridge,


Limbs flailing everywhere,

Squeals of glee in the air.
We slam into the lake ,










Full speed from our height.

Our skin tingles, numbed
By the slap of the glassy water.

The lake is warm.
We laugh,
Happy and free.

Sitting on the railing


Under the bridge.

Our place.

Sun warming our necks,
Grins proclaiming our
Adventure on our faces.

We talk and laugh about everything,
Anything,
It doesn’t matter.

We look below
And smile,


Daring each other.
I wake.
It’s dark.
Middle of the night.

The phone ringing


Her voice down the line.

Is she crying?
Or laughing?
“Elly?”
I’m by her side.

I know that feeling,
Know what she means,
Know what she leaves out.

I’m listening

To her story.
Lying on our backs
On the warm, rough carpet,

Or in the tree in the back paddock,

The limber lean branches
Swaying,

I Keep listening.
She stops for air and I think she’s done.
She’s finished her story.

We could be rolling and
Laughing until our stomachs ache,
Or we look up,
we take it all in.
A love lost?
We both cry,
And wonder how this could’ve happened.

I breathe deeply,
I can’t help it,
And reach out into the light

Smattering of lime, lively leaves
In the bracken.
I tug one free
From its home,
To wipe away her tears.







Was he worth it?

We talk,
Her speech dripping with desperation.
I make her laugh and fix it all,
For now.
She stops sobbing.
The carpet, the tree,
Or both kilometres apart,
Clinging to the phone.
Where else would we be?
I shudder and smile at her.


Darkness our friend in our place.


Everyone deserves a best friend.

No inhibitions,
No judgement,
No fear of rejection.

It wont matter.
Because someone loves you
I was hungry
and ready to go!








Eager, at the age of six.

I was sick,
already, of the city,
The fights,
The nights that didn’t end,


Mum calling for me to come inside.

I was sick of Erin’s crying day in,
Day out.




How many more tears could she have!?

I was six years old
when we moved.
Left my friends and my life behind,
No harsh feelings.



I was happy,
happy beyond anything I knew.

Left the crowded houses,

Left the hot south desert.

Dad bought me 5 sheep.



Told me they were mine,

Told me this was home :)

All ours.
The Wannon falls rolling.
The river rising
And sinking.
The storms were random,
Thrilling.

Our Tazzy oak walls,
Erin’s new dummy,
My trees...
And my sheep,
Everything to me,
When i was...
The Sunday morning,
It blossoms and I’m up.

I wake early
And throw my body from the
Sweet, warm folds of
My weekend nest.

I lace up,
My sneakers damp still
With the thick biting air.

I leave a starburst
On Erin's
And Devlin's oaken bedside tables
A note for them when they rise,
Grim, groaning and growling.

Mum and dad are already gone
to work.

I think on the week as
I pull my hair away from
My cold cheeks.

I tie it high.
I run down to the lake,
Run to the race courses,
To the 36 acres,
Around the outskirts,
Of our sleepy town,

Still dark under
The morning clouds.
Thunder rumbles or winds snap branches ahead.

I keep running
My Sunday morning rush
Swirls around me.
The wind stings my eyes
Making me cry, thin rivers.
Or is that rain?

My mind rolls over my lists,
Lists after lists in my head.
Sunday cleaning,
Homework,
Study,

Playing with the kids,
By the time I stumble, puffing,
At the home gate.

Sweaty and rushed,








It doesn’t matter to me

What lists are left because,
it’s my Sunday.
Full transcript