Robert Lindley Poet Sonnet

Farm Chores, They Sure Aren'T a Glowing Parade

Farm Chores, They Sure Aren't A Glowing Parade

Brutal cold cuts into young tender skin,
winter arrives with its hard cold and more.
No time to complain- NOT IF we are men,
farm child, time to wake, do the daily chores!

Up before the sun makes it first day's peep
into savage cold, hard cold, to morn's work.
Cutting blasts, such bitter cold one could weep,
we had best get it done, no time to shirk.

Chills eat into hungry brain this day,
no breakfast, working until cold-sun fades.
Why gripe, matters not whatever I say,
farm chores, they sure aren't a glowing parade!

Brutal cold cuts young tender skin this morn.
Such pain, methinks better not to be born!

R.J. Lindley
December 12th, 1965

Syllables Per Line:	
10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
Total # Syllables:	140
Total # Lines:	17 (Including empty lines)
Words with (syllables) counted programmatically:	
Total # Words:	112

Note: From my private journals.
My oldest surviving poem (a sonnet), written at age eleven.
And based upon my life on the farm and the very trying 
hard times we lived and survived.
Edited slightly before posting to meet the uniformed 
ten syllable count.

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Arthur Vaso April 2, 2016 at 6:56 PM I am always amazed when I read that you wrote some of these poems at such a young age! You are very talented Robert!

Mark Woods April 2, 2016 at 4:41 PM As a young fella there would have been a lot of more exciting thing to be doing! However it develops a work ethic, an understanding of responsibility and accountability. However I bet that wasn't the least bit in the equation when you wrote this!! ; )