Poetry Blogs (fields)
And so it begins. Or ends
The seasons change and as
September dies lies forgotten
Like Summer, Autumn October
Rears. Not misty mellow fruitfullness
With rusty leaf colour bright splashing
Hedgerow and tree russet yellow brown,
Mists that turn to rain and wind and heavy
Rain splashing in the track ruts and puddles
Around the farm; every field soggy with all the...
Sunday 13th October 2019 3:08 pm
In the sun's mid-day heat
I see the tall field grasses flow, swell
and come towards me in waves
surging before the day's wind
the seed-head spume constantly bowing
seems to fall on the field strand where I stand.
The rhythmic onslaught of the waves
continues through the long afternoon -
a tide of wind-driven swells and rollers
always flowing to my feet, w...
Thursday 21st February 2019 12:34 pm
I rejoice to see that old wood five-bar gate
that still stands guard beneath the ancient beech
to a field sloping gently down the hill.
The gate from an old farm track - now lost to time -
has seen so many seasons, so many harvests pass
and must have known an age of scythes and stooks
of horse drawn harrows, ploughs and wooden carts.
What could it tell of the village...
Wednesday 6th February 2019 12:08 pm
The soft blown snow that fell five days ago
Crisp frozen now by these five frosty nights
Still blankets all the fields and moors to show
Where pheasant clattered off on noisy flights
While footfall of the lesser birds is scribed
Less deep; and here a small bank vole has run;
There passed red fox and rabbit side by side
Though time kept them apart and saved the one
At the wo...
Tuesday 5th February 2019 9:53 am
I have ploughed one field
And seen the soil turn
To lie against its fellow
Under the greedy gull shout
Behind my blade.
Worm gorged, at dusk
They seek a distant tide line
And the furrowed field clamour
Slips silently into the night
I have broken the plough lines
Left to crumble in the sun
Where worms once toiled
My disk and dragging chain
Harrowed the la...
Friday 13th April 2018 4:12 pm
For Gwen, Anne and Eryl
In that happy heady grass-green Spring of my years
A time of lambent lamb slow lamb full days around a whited cottage
Lent us space and ease beneath the sun long sky
Golden glorious hours together in a single thought
With close chicken scrape and distant herd
When the swallows dipped to the fly buzz
When the kite climbed to a gliding speck
Thursday 22nd February 2018 12:30 pm
you green and pleasant land,
your beauty never ceases to instil
a calmness in my hands.
A sense of peace; contentment
within my wandering mind,
a fulfilling feast for longing eyes
that seem always looking behind.
The golden greens of your pastures
covering long and rolling hills,
the succulent scent of your flowers
tickling senses to smile at...
Sunday 2nd August 2015 7:04 pm