Jon A Cavanaugh Poet Rhyme

Summer Morn

I love to rise on a summer morn
And feed the game birds old stale bread
The distant hunter sounds his horn
Takes sharp aim and shoots them dead
Oh! What delicacy

To go to work on a summer morn
A job I do without a fear
A calling for which I was born
But for reasons still unclear
Perhaps because the mines are near

Ah! Then at times I drooping sit
The coal mines drain me of my power
Soot covers black as night
I'd like to sit just one more hour
But it's time for bed I'd better shower

How can this little parakeet
Sit in a cage and sing
The creature that the gases beat
And that shall soon my stomach meet
What a shame but such a treat

O! Father and mother when buds are nip-ped
Though my strength be blown away
I'll enjoy the beers I've tip-ped
And think no more this weary day
Work tomorrow? Oh dismay

How shall the summer arise with joy
Unless perhaps vacation's near
A small reprieve which griefs destroy
What's holding up my round of beer
I hope it shows sometime this year

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Robin Davis November 25, 2013 at 8:02 PM Jon This is not what I normally expect from you. But it's nice to see a different side of you that expresses your feelings and emotion Nice job my friend Hugs Jon A Cavanaugh November 25, 2013 at 10:13 PM That's because this is a parody of a William Blake poem that I adjusted slightly. Thank you.

Andrea Dietrich October 28, 2013 at 3:47 PM this is very "earthy" poetry. Very different one from you. Quite serious and showing your feelings on your life. Can't believe I found new one for me to read on my first try! Jon A Cavanaugh October 28, 2013 at 10:27 PM Thank you. This is a parody of a William Blake poem.

Richard Lamoureux November 23, 2012 at 5:37 PM I come from a mining town in Northern Ontario. They had shut down and the town almost died. With the price of gold so high it is now a boom town again. Jon A Cavanaugh November 25, 2012 at 5:51 AM Hi Richard, Good to here from you. I hope you are having a wonderful weekend.

Kathryn Collins November 23, 2012 at 9:08 AM What a hard and dreary calling. You deserve that beer - quickly. I though they sent a canary down into the mines as a test. Great poem and thank you for your comment on mine. I'd forgotten about my silly ca-erpillar. Jon A Cavanaugh November 23, 2012 at 4:03 PM They did use to send a canary down in the mines to test for gas. I took a little poetic liberty since canary doesn't rhyme with beat. LOL. Also, I don't work in the mines. This is a parody of a poem titled "The School Boy" by William Blake. I love to write parodies.

Toquyen Harrell November 23, 2012 at 9:01 AM Beautiful. I think your calling has something to do with animals as I can feel you have a heart for them. Didn't know you are a coal miner. Hard job. Enjoyed. Love ya, Toquyen Jon A Cavanaugh November 23, 2012 at 4:11 PM LOL, I'm not a coal miner. This poem is just a parody of a poem by William Blake titled "The School Boy". I love parodies. And for some reason I love to write parodies of William Blake's poems. My favorite parody of his work is "The Shepherd's Flock" If you read it think of the sacrifice as a sacrifice of love. It's a humorous metaphor.