Mr. Abbott
Mr. Abbott bought a
steam powered Stanley
He felt it made him
look rather manly
He has a large
handlebar moustache
Constantly covered in
soot and ash
In his finery,
goggles and gloves
He would wave at his
imaginary loves
Over the hills
and over the dales
He would frequently stop
for supplies and sales
Horses would buck,
cows would “moo”
Whatever the terrain,
the Stanley got through
At the end of the day
back in the barn,
Mr. Abbott, in his chair
would weave a yarn
His stories were
colourful and bold
Renowned for being
exceptionally told
As the years drew past
the Stanley would sit
Stiffening up
becoming unfit
The trusty machine finally
rested in a meadow
Until today,
saved by Jay Leno
Ladder to ladder
Downwards the water falls flow
Cascading my heart.
Right side the stream
Throng of wild horses lining
Sipping the cold wet.
Looking far beyond
Is the field of wild flowers
And bushes alike.
Left side lone cabin
As old as the seventies
Long for its embrace.
Living in the countryside
By Michelle Morris
18/10/2024
Living in the countryside
Has a wonderful allure
You can get closer to Nature
And feel her beauty, oh so pure
At night it's really peaceful
You can sit under the stars
The dark is like a velvet cloak
That holds up the lights afar
You can leave doors unlocked
Whether night or day
People can be trusted
Moral virtues to obey
It's not that they're all perfect
It's just a simpler way of life
A focus on what matters
Like respect and being kind
Family and friends close by
Connections that are real
Living in the countryside
Is like a sweet adventure feeling
Muddy walks with dogs
Babbling brooks and streams
Cows and sheep in meadows
Verdant landscapes and woodland beings
Quaint places to have a meal
At a slow and restful pace
The countryside is where you'll find
A special kind of place
Living in the countryside
Gets us back to Nature's ways
If only we could extend this blessing
To those stuck in the city's rat race
© Michelle Morris, 2024
I answer the morning’s call
under the endless sky
a touch of the sun’s gold
on the mirrored face of a pond
by the highway as the land rises
from shadows a promise
of day as I drive
through the countryside
driving from Madison
to my assignment
my life unfolds in silence
and I’m bearing my age
but I embrace the moment
as if my life’s just begun
dogs hang out window
sniffing every fall fragrance
around country block
I love a countryside walk.
When I'm having a bad day,
I go for a walk,
When I haven't got much to say.
What a big difference it makes,
A long, gentle stroll,
It's great to be outdoors,
And really is good for the soul!
Such beautiful views of green,
A calming feeling passes over me.
Birds flying around so free,
Just listening to them,
Singing so happily!
A cool gentle breeze,
Rustling the leaves on the trees.
Softly the wind blowing through my hair.
Now so peaceful and relaxing.
A walk in the beautiful countryside,
Such a joy to find,
Now I can return home,
Feeling happy and with a clear mind!
Appreciating nature!
‘far from the madding crowds’ and cars
this green and pleasant land of ours
conceals behind its dry stone walls
secrets, streams and waterfalls
where stepping stones that gather moss
shine forth and tempt us both across
to distant fields of eighties’ skies
now clouded through autumnal eyes
where sheep still bleat as we both pass
along old paths of weathered grass
rekindling thoughts as each track weaves
of first love, hope and burning leaves
that once infused a simpler air
but linger still inside somewhere
to guide us on those wistful miles
through woods, past farms and over stiles
in search of where we sat and spent
time dreaming dreams of dreams we dreamt
over the hills and far away
inside a world called yesterday
and where we’d stay ‘til light turned late
in fields beyond the kissing gate
where now through smiles and gentle tears
reflecting on those forty years
it feels like time has flown so fast
since young love asked if love could last.
Luminous miscellaneous adorn my crown,
Frills and strawberries,
Thorny circlet dusted with a light layer of twinkle,
As my eyes hysteric with confusion
muse on this loss.
I gather the lumps of loaf
crossing the border of light
toddling and traversing through the hues
of bent butter beauties
drooping into the worn old stone
one foot forward of the other
two stayed peering past
my grandfather built all this.
silver lick of hair stuck to his brow
that little rhythm in his hands
trembling like the trickles of water
heaved, trodden, beat and brandished
by the river rover.
oxidized poles decorated with patched quilts and marked clothes
trodden through top soil
of the hearth of the earth
will i even sense this again?
this burrowing thing inside of me
borrowed from ages long past their prime
will i too become another fleck on the sun scorched sill ?
Your heart remains in the same place where its memories belong to.-
quote by author
Small, close and warm neighborhood. Only a few children inventing toys to play with or games to play at.
Old stone houses on muddy roads, surrounded by bustling farms and a beautiful, wild nature.
Days of happiness that enriched my past and enlarged my soul.
Days running through those years, when the Spring was sunny, rainy and flowery.
When the Summer was very hot with storms passing by.
When the strong wind of Autumn used to open its doors to the harsh Winter.
My beloved refuge where I grew up. A humble village in the deep countryside, where money was little but not the main purpose or reason to enjoy life.
Where the sadness didn't last much, tucked in with kindness and generosity shared with the others.
Oh...My unforgettable village!, you gave us your best until we left you abandoned in your sad ruins where you cry alone.
Only four old people remain in, sitting on the shade of a clock moving forwards so fast.
I wonder if you miss me running full of joy through your meadows. You must wonder if somebody miss you now...Yes, somebody does!.
do you like fishing?
as well having a good time
cool calm creek fishing
He perched himself upon his stage.
He stretched himself up tall.
The Countryside Conductor
Fanned his wings and beckoned all
To join him as he welcomed in
A bright new sunny day,
To bring cheer to any appreciative heart
Who cared to listen on their way.
He belted out his melody
That lasted right to noon!
The sweetest kind of symphony,
The merriest of tunes.
Other voices harmonised
By whistle, croak and tweet.
Of different meaning in the bird world,
To humankind an aural treat!
Somehow too, it makes impact
For when we need a lift out of despair,
We may find ourselves recalling
The conductors tune that filled the air.
Near to a castle
in the Scottish countryside,
next to a deep lake
looking at the blue waters
~the nature plays the bagpipes
Michigan roadways
peaceful driving excursion
from east to west
nightfall at the country side, only the moon stands to watch and listen
November 26, 2023.
Green broccoli hills,
Swaying daffodils.
A tall tree of oak,
Hedged by hawthore just like a cloak.
The sparkling canal with a colourful barge,
How do you steer something so long and so large.
There's a wispy smoke trail, floating away in the sky,
With a million leaves gently blowing by.
The afternoon goes to evening, and the light begins to wane,
Then tomorrow I'll watch the scene again from behind my window pane.
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