Campdrafting

• Myles Mac Donnell, Grade 11
• Poetry
• 2013

The dust rises as they canter around
The spurs jingle up and down.
The ground pounds as the horse snorts
The cracking whip stops the course.

They walk back with their heads held low
The disappointments such a blow.
The second peg stays in his mind
The horse puffing, the sweat a shine.

The saddle comes off and falls on the ramp
As he leads his horse to the camp.
He gives her a pat on the head
Then he lets her go and she goes to bed.

He has never got a score under lights
That jinx continued this harsh night.
He went to the bar and drowned in his sorrow
And talked to some mates about tomorrow.

He awoke at the crack of dawn
To the sound of the announcers scorn,
“Come on riders get out of bed,
Get on your horses and lift your weary heads.”

He caught his roan with a yawn and a moan
Then rode him to the ring and nearly got thrown.
He worked him down ready for his run
Then he walked to the camp, he was number one.

He drove the beast to the front of the yard
A couple of turns, he rode it out hard.
He pushed it out onto the course
Smoked it around to the sound of applause.

He walked back to the fence, a smile on his face
It wasn’t his best but he wasn’t disgraced.
He was proud of his young horse, a score of 84
It’s a sport he loves, he’d be back for more.