General Poetry posted November 27, 2007


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An Austrailian Aborigional Campfire.

Corroborree

by Mike K2



Exhausted today,
I need a place to rest,
feeling that life is a foray
despite, I tried my best.

I laid my head on a pillow,
and tried to go to sleep,
under the shade of an imagined willow;
I pray for a place, a soul to keep.

Strange black, bearded, tribal men
tell me that it's time to walk about.
Leading me to a newly fueled fire and then...
They start to dance and shout.

With clack sticks and the low base tones,
making animal sounds in their didjeridoos.
The dance gathers fury as the fire moans,
imitating snakes, spirits and kangaroos.

The old men tell me what they see in me,
how I should make out of this life of mine.
Take from the experience of this corroborree,
and around its embers, slipping into Dream Time.



Recognized


A Didjeridoo is a naturally hollowed out limb that the Aborigines use as a musical instrument. A Corroboree us a ceremonial campfire that includes dancing and chanting along with the music. To create this poem, I used images that are seen on TV such as, "The Right Stuff" and documentaries and combine it with the many campfires that I attended in my days. A really good campfire will last with you as you go to sleep. Dream Time is sort of the Australian Aboriginal shamanistic journeying.

My favorite Australian experience occurred in my troop. There was a lady who kept saying that she knew what goes on in the troop and nobody will get her. During her first family camping trip she drove me nuts with this tone. I asked for God's help and a plan was hatched, another adult was going to sleep and since he was up in years, he was sort of white and wrinkly and I mistook her for being African American. I approached his tent and said, "Vern, Before you take your, VERN you're wearing a Klan Robe! She turned around in absolute horror, "Oh, I'm sorry Vern, you're naked!" I got two birds with one stone, but I knew it was not a good sign for her to be standing at his tent talking to him. When he woke up he walked up to me and hit me in the head with a rolled up magazine. She was behind him and said, "For your information Mike, I'm Australian, half Aborigine, half Indian.. Oh, did I know she was going to hate my guts. I unknowingly worked in the Scoutmaster in doing, during the campfire the, "Ears to the world." As he explained that any campfire will take you around the world and he basically covered them all. Last he said, "I wonder where this campfire will take us" and he stirred the ashes. Well, I started playing my Didjeridoo. Through that drone she yelled, "That's Mike! Isn't it...I hate you Mike!" She didn't like Crocodile Hunter, nor my imitation of him either.
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