Rex Ingamells

(1913 - 1955 / Australia)

Boomerang - Poem by Rex Ingamells

This piece of hardwood, cunningly shaped,
was curved so evenly while piccaninnies gaped
at a Warrior who chipped at it with pieces of flint,
and formed it by meticulous dint upon dint.
Outside his wurly he sat beside a tree,
and chipped at it patiently for hours - not for me,
but to kill the Wallaby in the rocky pass,
to kill the fat wild Turkey hiding in the grass.

Comments about Boomerang by Rex Ingamells

  • Rajendran Muthiah (7/29/2017 12:21:00 AM)

    He was sitting beside a tree not for her but to hunt the animals and birds. Is it the predicament of the deserted woman? Excellent way of presenting the theme! (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: tree

Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 1, 2004

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