Daniel Turner Poet Rhyme

The Photo

Recently at an office
Where they check my ailing heart
While thumbing through a magazine
A photo set apart
The timeless snapshot black and white
I couldn't turn the page
Through watering eyes I looked  back
To those innocent childhood days
It may have been, void of color
But certainly not to me
Trees were green as springtime grass
Skies as blue as seas
Rows and rows of fluff white cotton
With workers in the field
Hand sewn sacks across their backs
Most generally overfilled
What one couldn't see was clear to me
Sensations that I felt
I closed my eyes released my mind
My heart began to melt
Bleeding fingers, unbearable heat
Eye burning salty sweat
Those moans of  hymnals while they worked 
Things one does not forget
Raised in the country in my youth
Those fields were all around
We'd ride our bikes and watch them pick
We loved those soul felt sounds
Easily, that photo 
Could have been, taken by my mother
Come to fetch us home to eat
Me and my big brother


    original poem by Daniel Turner  "poemdog"  2013

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Carolyn Devonshire February 22, 2020 at 4:58 PM I can see the workers in the fields vividly through your excellent description. The emotions you felt must have added the "color" and enabled you to see clearly these memories you have from childhood. The "bleeding fingers and unbearable heat" show how hard the migrants toiled. I think you should repost this poem, Daniel. Give others a second chance to see it. Amazingly beautiful poem that exhibits your kind heart and compassion. Excellent!

Daniel Turner July 15, 2017 at 7:56 PM Well since obviously people are reading, I will get the ball rolling. This poem is about migrant workers. Some white, some black and some brown. There was even a short time in my life when I picked cotton. This is not about race as much as it is the passing of an era. Hand picked cotton was shortly thereafter picked with a 16 row cotton picker. Putting thousands of migrant workers out of work. Fond memories:)