The farmhouse sits at the end of the gravel driveway
The red curtains wave in the open window,
Moving perfectly with the late spring breeze
The trees surround the home like a backsplash
A forest of light and dark greens
A small rabbit hops by the front door,
Curious of what is going on inside
The large white wrap around porch,
Covered in brown whickered furniture
The sky is a light blue hue
There is not a single cloud in the sky
A cow in the pasture moo's in the distance
The day is peaceful
Categories:
farmhouse, 12th grade, america, earth,
Form: Imagism
What scene would I want to find comfort in
more than this one,
an ordinary morning in the farmhouse kitchen,
blue checked curtains swaying,
wooden shelves with plates and jars,
the radio softly playing,
a paring knife in my hand?
It gives me time to think
about all that is waking outside--
birds calling from the trees,
dew glistening on the garden's leaves,
while beyond the fields the world rolls on,
vivid, bustling, dawn breaking with the day.
But beyond this kitchen
there is nothing that I need,
not even a ticket to some grand event,
or a sleek, silver-trimmed coffee maker
that sits in shiny kitchens downtown.
No, it's all here,
the orange slices in their clear plastic bags,
the loaf of bread on the cutting board,
a jar of blackberry jam,
not to mention the child's painting
held to the fridge by a magnet,
and the way these three lunch bags--
each a different color--
wait in quiet stillness.
So forgive me
if I pause now and listen
to the hum of the refrigerator as it purrs
while my mind
wanders a bit across the acres,
where the sunlight
gently warms the wheat
and my thoughts rest in a farmhouse
surrounded by rolling hills
Categories:
farmhouse, children, farm, mother,
Form: Free verse
If I get to be a man of great means,
I’d buy a fine farmhouse in Philippines,
That has naturally flowing water,
And would let it to my soul’s sole daughter.
The rent I might ask for would just be this:
That she lets me spend there some time of bliss,
Amidst those fresh blossoms of first flowers,
First fall of mangoes with their great flavours,
An if she grows new blossoms on bowers,
Rent-less, whole estate will be ever hers—
That farmhouse in her native Philippines,
That has naturally flowing water,
Would then be all hers, my soul’s sole daughter.
_________________________________________
Free verse |10.03.2024| daughter, father
In tribute to Edward Thomas: If I should ever by Chance
Categories:
farmhouse, daughter, farm, father, father
Form: Free verse
The Farmhouse
One evening before the sun was set
A memory came and stayed a while
Of a chalk white, sun bright path,
Untrod, passing by where I gazed
By a hawthorn hedge and a wooden style.
And I saw nearby a farmhouse stood,
Empty now and weather worn.
An old post box by an open gate,
In the sky the remnants of a passing storm
Above fields once gold with ripened corn.
It seemed now that a distant memory stirred
Where two children play and horses graze,
As if another had received the thought
And remembered that old abandoned place,
A farmhouse arisen from far past days
A letter lay in the collecting box,
The unknowing sender waiting some reply,
But no word came from that forsaken place
From that far farmhouse weather worn,
Only a distant memory passing by.
Barry Stebbings
March 2024
Categories:
farmhouse, memory,
Form: Rhyme
Extinguished Names
David J Walker
The old farmhouse looks older
What else can it do
Burdened by weather
Threatened with fire
Memories have long ago escaped the
Walls painted in tears
Windows with laughter
Doors that clatter
in an afternoon wind
When we left we left
A piece of us
In scenes behind drawn curtains
Someday
Lightening will strike in an
Act of vengeance by the Devine
The long-awaited flames and
The tears we left behind
Will never be enough to
Extinguish the names
Categories:
farmhouse, allegory, allusion,
Form: Free verse
The Relevance of Last Winter
David J Walker
The acrid odor of a
Butane fueled
space heater
Seemed better
than freezing
In the sub-frigid air
of a February
prairie
winters
day
We set fire
To dried mesquit limbs
Cleared from
an adjacent pasture
last summer
It seemed better
than freezing
In the March wind
Bending its way
Into a town of little interest
By 4 pm
The light was failing
ice was forming
On the tractors casings
Ours
Were the only lives
Exposed
To the
Mercies of the miseries
Of a winter storm
The small farmhouse
Stood alone
The warm refuge
At the end of a field
Of long fallow rows
Awaiting
The next seasons
Best efforts
Categories:
farmhouse, winter,
Form: Free verse
Scream out mom or mommy if you prefer
Dad or daddy is already longer than gone
Dragged between the walls by the creature
A hideous mechanical many armed thing
Breathing acid through razor sharp teeth
The slimy cold tongue licks the floors
Sensing out humans because it wants more
Mom or mommy can't help you now
She screams your name one last time
As you dial 911 on the rotary phone
Which takes forever for one rotation
This is not the stone ages for crying out loud
A digital or Iphone is required for survival
Monsters can not be placed on hold
The insidious one finishes off the last parent
A mechanical voice is sounding down the hall
“If you would like to make a call please hang up”
“Try your call again later”
A dial tone accompanies the next one devoured
Music to the ears of the skinless thing feeding
It is later than you think
Categories:
farmhouse, dark, family, farm, food,
Form: Free verse
Most often, I would affectionately ponder and recall how magical times were
in our farmhouse— daisies, herbs, and even pebbles glossed by the amber of sunlight, while Grandma would ramble about compassion or patience in times when difficulties seemed to overwhelm my very instinct ;
her fingers curling through my youthful thumbs: yet at 21, the rebel in me defied all stories on kindness, her croons entering the anvil then out the other ear, to whiff away in autumn’s breeze...As years rolled on, Grams’ promptings built my will-- buttressed my days, my adult days through crossways of doubt.
Relishing how gentle her laughter was, our moments together make it harder now in spaces of my heart as I lay daisies on her crypt. I know, I know... I weep.
9/29/2018
For Silent One: Lines Of Ten That Remind You What It Was Like Back Then Contest
Categories:
farmhouse, farm, grandmother, remember,
Form: Narrative
No building long survives Time’s hurricane,
It scatters shingles, rends each roof
And bares the rafters to the rain,
The skeleton of walls stands proof
That nothing fashioned by mere Man endures aloof.
Categories:
farmhouse, introspection
Form: Verse