Heydays.
Springs ago, froth on the Hawthorn
seemed the whiter,
house-high were waving cornstalks
and every morning the sun
brought me heydays of running free
in crystal-clear air.
Whispers of green turning to gold
sang ease to my old
heedless summers when increasing
bulge of apple-tree wait
with reddening fruit tickled my taste
buds with impatience,
where tiddlers from ponds decorated
jars laid on sideboards
and tadpoles were carefully watched
as they became frogs,
when prayers were oft repeated by
rote as blessed harvest
meant working folk tended better
to farm-job demands,
where help within family members
was expected and
willingly given so that the business
of good-hearted land
filled daily living with needful tasks
as offspring well knew.
Sabbath-still-quiet reigned back then
trailing daisy-dreams
through streams of fanciful planning
as girl-hood drained
all adventure before barn-owls sang
final lullabies
and maiden moons became matured
while rounder woman
grew behind girl's nightgown closure.
Lamb-soft was my child-time, sadly
now ended, when farm-fed
hands were welcome and oven bread
freshness pervaded
aproned kitchens where every place
on ready-laid tables
was gained by hard labour drenched
with family values.
Grace said, any left-overs honoured
wild fur and feather
with crumbs saved to spread a-top
outlying hedgerows.
Innocence cycled then
for miles unafraid, happily solo and
resilience thrived.
-
Author:
Fay Slimm. (
Offline) - Published: November 3rd, 2017 05:26
- Comment from author about the poem: I am hoping this read is not found a bit long winded - the thoughts seemed to go on - and on - and on.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 108
- User favorite of this poem: Accidental Poet.
Offline)
Comments8
A beautiful country feeling comes from this read Fay. Life on a farm is a life I never lived, but always admired. Great write Fay.
Beautiful reminiscing about life on a farm that only you can recreate! Just an all around beautiful poem Fay!
Oh for the rustic life - sadly we are becoming an urban country with a few cities to break the monotony - love the poem Fay
A fine write Fay.
Beautiful write Fay.
You paint us an idealic childhood here, Fay, quite beautifully and as only you can do. Enjoyed it!
People of your generation FAY have had the privilege of seeing much change ~ Everything is now urbanised ~ mechanised ~ pasteurised and homogenised ! I can still make real veggie soup from misshapen soily veggies my Dad brings me from his "plot" ! Angela (being a "Lady") buys her super-soup in plastic from Waiterose ! She thinks mine tastes better ! I've only known Queen Elizabeth ~ My octogenarian Family & Friends have seen George V ~ Edward VIII ~ George VI and then Queen Elizabeth ! There used to be 240 pence in the pound now there are only 100 and the metre has replaced the yard and the kilogram the pound etc ! Many of the things and activities you mention in your elegant poem have been sacrificed on the altar of progress ! Thanks for caring and sharing FAY ~ You shed love and reminiscence and graciousness on this site ~ We all love you ! Yours for ever BRIAN !
The open field, the fresh air, the clear sky, running, chasing, playing. what a free world to live. Wonderful.
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