Best Mill Poems
The grist mill stands by the side of the lake
A bustling flour mill of yesteryear
An eerie place where many people died
If you go inside you will sense the fear.
John Grist the miller was a psychopath
Well known for his outbursts of drunken rage
Those that upset him would incur his wrath
Like William Jones who asked for his wage.
Grist was very drunk and went for his gun
Shot young William until he dropped dead
Then shot the workforce before they could run
The floor of the mill was covered blood red.
Grist mill is haunted, don’t go there at night
The dead still moan and you might die of fright.
Written 25th May 2018
GRISTMILL CONTEST SPONSORED BY CRAIG CORNISH.
Categories:
mill, death, evil, horror,
Form:
Sonnet
The Mill wheel wouldn't turn until the Spring
And still today in thought a chill it brings
The vision of the ice upon the lake
That time in passing still can not erase
That mill wheel in the grip of winter's breath
Stone cold and still ... a lifelsss wheel of death
When on that morn there in the ice appeared
Beneath its surface there a face of fear
Whispers ran through the town from door to door
Whispers that Charlie Winters killed Lenore
Frozen streams of blood there on the wheel
Found on that morning... by old man Mac Neil
A long lock of flaxen hair...gathered there
Beneath that wheel...a weight to much to bear
Oh ! How the broken vows of marriage weep
Ice melts, revealing secrets wheel creaks
~~~
Behind these prison bars I pass the years
Finally stripped of anger by my tears
July 15, 2018
Author: Elaine Cecelia George of Canada
Categories:
mill, murder,
Form:
Rhyme
Hiking a dry creek bed, at the mountain's base
I happened on an old grist mill, a prisoner
of time, serving life in isolation.
A few rotten boards scattered about
was all that remained of it's dilapidated Norse wheel
The broken millstone lay silent on it's bed
the thick green ivy walls, closing in.
Guarded by giant pin oaks and river ash,
yet one could easily see evidence of visitors.
I was trespassing, not on land
but on another time, another's dream.
What was most likely, once a busy road
for horse drawn wagons had become
a clearing for utility poles and wires
I did not enter but I stood there
envisioning yesterday. mountains on both sides,
creek of fresh running water and the
serenity of this lush mountain valley.
Then cynically muttered,..."Progress"
5/27/2018
Categories:
mill, angst, change,
Form:
Free verse
The Mill wheel wouldn't turn until the Spring
The yellow tape defines it a crime scene
Similar to one in 1930
Locals watch police investigating
The 1840 gristmill's history
Involves the town's most famous mystery
A man charged with fraud and duplicity
Dodged first degree murder complicity
Whispers ran through the town from door to door
A dead body, missing cash... furthermore
Under the waterfall... just like before
Talk of murder weapon left on the floor
A deep freeze had the town on hold for weeks
No official info... except for leaks
By and by the case was about to peak
Ice melts, revealing secrets - the wheel creaks
Tips led to stolen cash confiscation
Perps confessed on cross examination
Funds came through for the Mill's renovation
Waterfall Weddings... book reservation
Submitted July 5, 2018
One, Nine, Sixteen V3.0 Contest by Viv Wigley
Seventh Place
Categories:
mill, adventure, humorous, imagery, mystery,
Form:
Rhyme
The Mill wheel wouldn't turn until the spring,
the workers loaded up all their belongs;
and left for town and to their families,
soon the Mill was quiet with only mice.
The winter wind was now blowing snowflakes,
ice was forming on the roof and windows;
then, a soft scraping of the aged Mill door,
and a homeless group came in with the snow.
Whispers ran through the town from door to door,
that the Mill was haunted by ghost shadows;
trappers had seen movement around the Mill,
but when they would enter there was nothing.
No sound except scurrying of a mice . . .
or was it mice that ran away to hide?
When winter came to an end the group left.
Ice melts revealing secrets- the wheel creaks,
as workers return to the Mill in spring;
and they find signs that people have been there,
had lived there all that long freezing winter . . .
for on the wood floor lay a child's rag doll.
_________________
July 6, 2018
Poetry/Narrative/Ghosts At the Mill
Copyright Protected, ID 18-1038-717-01
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Categories:
mill, winter,
Form:
Narrative
I often watched him tirelessly sifting
Grains of native corn in a rusty mill-
Those arms a kinetic flush, quicker than
July’s heat, as if glazed limestone rubbed
A wavy mane blown by summer’s tossed air :
Perhaps, I have imagined him laboring-
Muscular taut and bronzed by scorched hours
His gait languidly aloof fetching water
Across the pond, a lonesome vignette,
This image cast-off like a bag of disused husk
Far out behind, steep as the upturned leaves...
Eyes doleful flickering on late noon’s hardened toil.
While upon paddles, a man’s life seemed to rile
Where golden-rod turned to nickel's work,
That down old chutes rolled musky sweat of flesh:
I have beheld him amid dusk’s aftermath
Of sadness roaming there in faint overalls,
From his glimpses, the mill of pit and death
And each lily I clutched for him wilted, sagging-
For in my own aloneness, I dared not meet him.
Gristmill Contest for Craig Cornish
6/3/2018
Categories:
mill, longing,
Form:
Free verse
The Mill wheel wouldn't turn until the Spring.
Covered in ice from the frigid Winter freeze,
no production until the ivory dove does sing.
The town wondered what nature would bring,
so no one walked around with reposed ease.
The streamlet was frozen and along the shore
they found messages in bottles from the past.
Some had never seen anything like this before.
Whispers ran through the town from door to door,
and the meanings of these messages were asked.
No one spoke truth about these strange words,
they all denied knowing about them in fear.
Shaken up by this calamity the town was stirred,
they were told their messages would be unheard.
Just then a loud noise approached from near.
Ice melts, revealing secrets- wheel creaks
though the upcoming Spring hadn’t yet arrived.
Everyone stops in silence and no one speaks,
the snow stops falling and the ivory dove shrieks-
Lightning strikes the Mill wheel, and no one survived.
One, nine, sixteen v3.0 Poetry Contest
July 20, 2019
Categories:
mill, fear, imagination, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
“The Mill wheel wouldn’t turn until the Spring”
“Old River’s” frozen heart a yearly thing
cold solace of deep snow a lonely gift
to those with ugly memories to sift.
For wheels that grind the truth in darkened minds
to sift the chaff of memories gone blind
will place a ghastly crust upon pure snow
and on the wind the question “Did you know?”
‘Whispers ran through the town from door to door’
lone footprints in the snow at rumors core
the rabid tongues of venom’s righteous quest
condemned sweet mercy’s visits as a test
and so beside the silence of the wheel
she hid the feelings “they” denied she feel.
Spring thaw, a time of which nobody speaks
‘Ice melts, revealing secrets – the wheel creaks’
©6/24/2018
for Viv Wigley – One, Nine, Sixteen V3.0 – Poetry Contest
Categories:
mill, innocence, judgement, love,
Form:
Rhyme
A little ways north of Mill Creek
the beach runs round
to a single wide arcing swath
Where the tide stems landward in shattered segments
fast against the open mouth
of sea and sand and barnacle
There is also a cliff near the free stone rising
above the under-base of a million waves
throttling a darkened face
Somewhere out of sight
from landlocked eyes
salt water still churns
And churns for a million years
oblivious to the damage
inflicted on the crumbling mass
It's as if the big bass drum
of agonies from time immemorial
strums a one note dirge
And thereby summons the shelving mist
to curtail the pitiful death
from the tired eyes of a dumbfounded poet
Who loiters in the wet hiss
like a reporter in search of tragedy
and finding none, returns to home
Categories:
mill, beach, , memorial,
Form:
Free verse
Going through its ambiance, (on) with open thoughts,
Past scenes so serene, and picturesque (in situ passed).
A house, its windows just ajar to the tactile winsome breeze
That taste of zest & adventure infused; with distilled memory’s,
And (sensed) delights unmet “as yet”.the wend of life so rich,
surrounds my mind & senses like the abundant shining light.
That upon the varied tableaux glow, before falls the lilac scented night.
Through all the turvy ways, and livelong day,
I’ll count the picket fences, as I travel or Stop to gaze.
I look out onto the pastureland that runs between the towns,
Observing rolling verdant turf, and cattle with thoughtful frowns.
The Holstein herds and Jersey cows, with Friesians ’mooing low’,
Character houses stand on hillocks; a horse & buggy moving slow.
There are tended lawns with a velvet like pile,
that have entered my awareness, these pleasant miles,
And on the horizon moving; (waits) that shimmering rippling run.
Of a blue & ribboning shoreline where pleasure necessitates fun.
There wind can like a lion roar, or call like turtle doves
With New Jersey soul superimposing the whole in the USA that I love!...
©Joe Maverick 1-6-2011Copyright)
Categories:
mill, adventure,
Form:
Rhyme
Sunrise found the farmers waiting
at the grits mill by the stream.
With the sound of grinding corn,
neighbors worked as a team.
Sharecropping is just a memory...
No more tobacco to be strung~
Cottonpicking is now mechanical.
There is no redneck song to be sung.
I am a redneck and proud of it.
We are a special breed.
Don't get on our 'fighting side'.
We stand up for what we believe.
We buy syrup in a bottle.
The grits mill grinds no more.
Vegetables don't taste the same~
We buy them from a store.
No backache from picking cotton~
Hands aren't bleeding and sore.
The grits mill has crumbled
Times just aren't the same anymore...
*correct spelling-grist
*(Southern Pronunciation = grits)
Categories:
mill, memory, nostalgia,
Form:
Rhyme
[img src="http://www.wallpaperpassion.com/upload/18797/water-mill-wallpaper.jpg"]
the old grist mill stands
nestled in the rocky bank..
red fall leaves surreal............................by Sara Kendrick
vibrant blue sky glows stronger
shadowing my dim life's light.......................By Doris Culverhouse
red stained swift water
rushes onward to the sea..
slow decaying mill.............................by Sara Kendrick
Vibrant life vacant
Emotions rush, rapids flow
heart and zest soggy....................................by Doris Culverhouse
The once spinning wheel silent
Red Birds watch an era leave........................By Sara Kendrick
rocks wear smoothly slick
as time ticks a new way starts
Cycling ways and days......................by Doris Culverhouse
Categories:
mill, life,
Form:
Senryu
the old grist mill stands
nestled in the rocky bank
red fall leaves surreal
Vibrant blue sky glows stronger
Shadowing my dim life's light
red stained swift water
rushes onward to the sea...
slow decaying mill
vibrant life vacant
emotions rush, rapids flow
heart and zest soggy
The once spinning wheel silent
Red Birds watch an era leave
rocks wear smoothly slick
as time ticks a new way starts
cycling ways and days
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
Contest: New Contest Team Work
Sara Kendrick 1, 3, 5
Doris Culverhouse 2, 4, 6
Written September 19, 20, 21
Written from a picture of an Old Grist Mill
Themes Red, Water, Grist Mill, Fall
Categories:
mill, life, nature,
Form:
Rengay
For Angie
The hallways rotated over and around me, maybe it was that aged smell of antiseptic affecting my equilibrium...
Trying to keep my feet, bracing the wall of the room she was assigned with my hand to gain my balance, I was overcome with
hot vibrations
of past voices, shrieking, pleading, crying out for lost loved ones at the time of their greatest need...
unanswered
Slumping to a chair, I felt the weight of despair
Nothing, nobody
My will to live had been broken
Shaking myself, I knew I needed to be released from this
Possession of my soul, so I began praying...
'God, grant these souls entrance to Your Kingdom, reach out with Your Loving Grace to hold them and keep them in Your Love'
Free at last, the orderly asked if everything was alright, I said No...he said, I'm sorry, I need you to sign these papers for Insurance, we have a patient waiting for this room and Housekeeping needs to finish some tasks
Angie's heart had given up, but the cause of death was listed as covid
I just got up from my chair, set the forms down, and walked out, the orderly pleading behind Me "sir, sir, the papers!"
Housekeeping brushed hurriedly past me as I hit the elevator
Down button, entered and
Released at the lobby floor,
Stepping out to the fresh air,
I noticed a Ruby Throated Hummingbird alight on a trumpet flower nearbye, sip, then pause to acknowledge me and spun straight-up...
Heaven awaited
11/12/21
Categories:
mill, loss,
Form:
Free verse
The Mill wheel wouldn't turn until Spring
Money was needed for refurbishing
Built in nineteen hundred and seventeen
It was advised they replace everything
A treasured part of local history
Host to all the town's social memories
The wheel itself was pieced in artistry
Workers heard tales of hidden treasury
Whispers ran through the town from door to door
The Mill required complete overhaul and more
The expenses were beginning to soar
They scoffed at hidden treasure folklore
A deep freeze stopped all construction for weeks
Influx of needed money appeared bleak
The refurbished wheel was installed - now leaks
Ice melts, revealing secrets - wheel creaks
A puzzled technician on wheel repair
Opens up a toolbox, gasps, stops to stare
The bricks of gold have answered their prayers
The Mill has been replicated with care!
Categories:
mill, art, community, history, imagery,
Form:
Rhyme