SILVERPOETS    -    WINNERS  CIRCLE                Page 18 March  2009:    Van Diemen's Land I've travelled far across the isle Once called Van Diemen's Land 'Twas then a place of hate and fear By military was manned. An ideal choice by men back then In seventeenth century Britain To rid 'old Blighty' of the scum That overflowed each prison. To this land of deprivation Not only murderers were sent But petty thieves, some very young All kinds of miscreants. Perhaps one stole a hanky To sell on for a penny Or another thief a loaf of bread To feed a starving family. I've seen those desolate places That held transported folk Gazed sadly at the buildings Now crumbling and remote. The silence loud but quiet, The emptiness, despair, The feeling of disquiet Surrounding everywhere. My ears hear shouting, cursing tongues, My eyes see bent backs breaking, Heaving, lifting great grey stones For buildings in the making. Sometimes the sun beats mercilessly, At others, storm clouds rumble, The endless harsh regime goes on No convict dares to mumble. Leg irons clanking rhythmically As rogues and felons hobble, Marching forward two by two Together always cobbled. Another gang upon a hill Fell trees with large saws rasping. Again there's two chained one to one A Redcoat standing watching. Over yonder there's a flogging With cat-o-nine tails swishing, The victim's back criss-crossed with lines Each time the cords come whipping. Duty bound the Reverend stands His anguished soul is weeping "Dear God" he thinks, "can this be right, No man deserves such beating." As night-time falls, the men return    To cells, dark, dank and small,    A piece of beef, a slice of bread Until the morn roll-call. Lamps shine in windows of the free But free of what I say For they're all tied to Van Diemen's Forever and a day. There's a semblance of a township With gardens, church and pier But just beneath the surface There is loneliness and fear. For the ladies of the soldiers To their houses they are bound To protect them from the convict gaze As upsetting it was found. I see a flicker here and there, a fleeting glimpse of fabric Disappearing through a door Leaving nothing but more sadness. For the children are restricted They too must stay away From the seeing of the convict In a spot that's safe to play. Now I'll leave this sombre place That's occupied my pen In writing my imaginings Of happenings back then, But was it all imagining Or did some other hand Move my pen across the paper To tell the story of the dammed.            --------------  by  Mary Hart ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Judge's comments: This poem uses assonance frequently instead of full rhyme, which gives a very natural but still patterned sound to it. The rhythm of the lines never falters, and there are good echoes of sound - not overdone - you can hear them in these examples    military/ manned.    thief/ loaf/ feed/family.    bent/ backs /breaking,    great/ grey    dark/ dank    beef/ bread    flicker/ fleeting/ fabric    Disappearing/door    pen/ paper As well as giving us an insight into the history of the colony, the poem is moving on a human level, and carries a message.  Well done ...........  Dreamweaver --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Back to: HOME   Back to: Hobbies & Games  Back to: Silverpoets (17)  Forward to: Silverpoets (19)