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Echos of the Past

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Below is the poem entitled Echos of the Past which was written by poet Eamon Duffin. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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Echos of the Past

On weary feet I walk the fallow field
Hearing ghosts from another time
The ploughboy’s labour filled tread
With horse drill long straight furrows
Women clad in sackcloth and calico
Scatter saved seeds on hungry soil

Then came the chill rain of spring
They kneel in sodden clinging clay
Thinning the frozen beet and turnip
Standing only for the Angelus bell
Giving thanks to the Almighty God
For what they did and did not have

End of golden summer came fast
We played in chaff at harvests end
The labourers washed the year away
With drink and music and silver coin
No mirror reflects the toil worn face
Or tears of acceptance of their lot

I leave the field of olden memories
And stumble back to the other side
Across the way the lonely bell tolls
With wisdom of past generations
Telling me that I should leave now
Go---go---go,   the old ghosts echo 

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  1. Date: 9/11/2011 3:43:00 PM
    What a lucid reminiscence of your past life. Penned very well. Well done Blessings, Taha

  1. Date: 1/9/2011 12:45:00 AM
    Great work. Wonderful skills of portraying the images of your reminiscences.

  1. Date: 1/4/2011 6:08:00 AM
    Yes. This reads as a reflection of a childhood memory of farming (as was mine, at grandparent's farm). I also have fishing in my ancestry. I have relatives who fish off Alesund, Norway. My family once owned (perhaps still do, don't know anymore) a small island near Alesund called 'Kalvoy' which I believe means 'calf island'. I digress. Simply think it is nice coincidence to find we share similar background and experience. I do enjoy your writing. 'Eamon' - is this Irish? Take care. Deb

  1. Date: 1/4/2011 4:55:00 AM
    Wonderful... You must have some association with farming, either a personal connection or from some in-depth study of the day-to-day life of farming. For to write of 'play[ing] in chaff at harvests end' signifies that you have witnessed this somehow. Yes? In any case, this writing is quite sincere, and leaves me remembering my own connection to the tenuous yet wondrous life of farming. Well done. Deb

  1. Date: 1/3/2011 1:08:00 PM
    Very amazing images of the recollection of the memories of the past, Eamon

  1. Date: 1/3/2011 12:18:00 PM
    Eamon, I love this. You've captured the spirit of the Irish people, their strong faith, diligence, and the wisdom of the past generations! One for my Favs. List! Love, Audrey

  1. Date: 1/3/2011 11:11:00 AM
    A brilliant write Eamon with some awesome images.. Thanks for sharing your memories with us ;-)

  1. Date: 1/3/2011 10:01:00 AM
    An amazing write filled with wonderful relfections and images of your past. The most profound thing was the message in the last line Eamon... to let go of our ghosts of the past! Perfect message to start off a new year. Thank you for sharing this write. Lay

  1. Date: 1/3/2011 9:17:00 AM
    Thank you for sharing this journey through your memories, Eamon. You employed some touching images and I like the way you ended the poem by realizing we have to let go of the old ghosts. The wisdom of past generations, however, is something to which I wish we could all cling. Excellent poem, my friend. Love, Carolyn