life story (Remove filter)
The Traveller
Alf Smith was his name, though, we should remember him
As more than the labourer on a small Welsh farm
Who milked the cows and tended every farmer whim;
Twice daily fitting clusters onto teats and pouring milk to churns,
Taken for collection to stand beside the lane between the ferns.
Twice daily, too, he cleaned the shed with hose and broom
And waited to hear what chores would f...
Saturday 28th October 2017 5:31 pm
Recent Comments
Nigel Astell on June 2025 Collage Poem: You Watched the Trains Come, You Watched the Trains Go
2 hours ago
Tom Doolan on Poetry Is Pain
7 hours ago
David RL Moore on Too late too late
23 hours ago
Rolph David on Love The Light, Embrace The Rain
1 day ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on The roads taken
1 day ago
Red Brick Keshner on still, the Earth breathes
1 day ago
Marnanel Thurman on The roads taken
1 day ago
Red Brick Keshner on where shadows do not drown
1 day ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on The Empty Streets of Ego’s March
1 day ago
Larisa Rzhepishevska on The Policemen Arrest The Men.
1 day ago