deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Rusting Billy
NOTE: Billy in this poem refers to a hiking pot.
On a lonely mountain path
A king protea stands
Charred, battered, old
I take the rusted billy
Rim and handle from
The worn branch
Gently crush them
Into a new billy
And hang it on the
Same old branch
He hung it there and
Went to war.
"I'll fetch it when I'm
Back"
The billy lasted
Thirty years
We bow our heads
"Rest in peace.
You are not forgotten"
On a lonely mountain path
A king protea stands
Charred, battered, old
I take the rusted billy
Rim and handle from
The worn branch
Gently crush them
Into a new billy
And hang it on the
Same old branch
He hung it there and
Went to war.
"I'll fetch it when I'm
Back"
The billy lasted
Thirty years
We bow our heads
"Rest in peace.
You are not forgotten"
Published 13th Feb 2023
Author's Note
This poem tells of a hiking pot or as in this poem a billy. The king protea stood halfway along a hiking trail. A man of my fathers generation let the a billy hanging on the tree before going to war. He never came back. The tradition was that if you spat into the billy the mans spirit would grant you good weather. After about thirty years the billy had disintegrated, so I and a couple of friends replaced the billy in the king protea in remembrance of a hiker who had died in war.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 1
reading list entries 0
comments 0
reads 148
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
