Sunday Faced.
Rain wringing out great drops on sodden yards
wetting Sunday-faced farmers
plus ripple of following offspring who mincing
thru' grass yawn slowly uphill
to mud-spattered salvation of weekly worship
and damply pewed, wait for a sermon.
Hatted heads bow as onslaught of next storm
fling windowed reminders to all
reverently bent but men know gale-flat grain
awaits no redemption from
sudden battering, cattle-full sheds bellow out
for attention as gates lean on
torn hinges squeaking in vain, time is wasted
in best attire when fierce tempest
empties coin- rattle as Sunday dressed men
scrabble for doors before service ends.
Smallholding tasking ever takes precedence
but for one holy-hour, chapel then
done and Hellfire quenched Sunday skirts lift
as lady-boots quickly skid homeward
to kitchen heaven of baked bread smells and
roasting aromas when welcome hands
closed in thanks after renewing, sin-cleansed
and full of rude health, country folk
can shoulder usual hazards of living off land
that asks for far more than Sunday-best.
-
Author:
Fay Slimm. (
Offline) - Published: January 16th, 2023 05:54
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 18
Offline)
Comments4
I see precisely where you are coming from .. and am not ashamed to admit, they just don't make em like this any more ....... Neville x
sorry for the long ramble, dear Fay
I do love it when you pen
one of your vivid odes, to those time's
when family life, was an asset
in our lives
(the saddest loss, in that erosion of theological
dictatorship
is that, so many cultural highlights
of family life, had to be abandoned
for long gone
are scenes on streets
of nuclear families, heading
to congregate
on Sunday mornings
neighbours, meeting after service
and catching-up
a unity of humane, oneness
decimated
because, we aligned faith
with all-things, integral
to societal, goodness
so now
it's sunday newspapers
and french toast with coffee
in bed, alone
sunday roast, portioned for one
click-timed
to arrive just after the shower...
sad
those older days your poetry depicts, dear Fay
came with warming smiles
soothing laughter's sounds
and ladies, as-ever
doing it all, alone
by choice
for the love
of a household, glued together
through life's stormy weather
by virtue of loyalty, to something
greater than isolated existences
yieldless, needs and wants)
Good write Fay.
The image of those honest, stoic countryfolk in their own environment well rendered here, Fay. The feeling that there might have been a better time and place to what we have now....
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