Dirt road lined with walls of stone,
run right up to the small home,
rust red siding coming in view,
in my head it’s still cedar, blue.
Sugar maples line a big field,
in march syrup we will steal,
vast open space on a hill,
where once cows did eat their fill.
Ancient giants in the trees,
some with knots, sign of disease,
one split trunk, a lightning strike,
still alive, since before Ike.
Waving grass across the slope,
sometimes deer, but mostly no,
groudhogs search, wanting to eat,
hayed yearly, sold off for feed.
On the house, a massive deck,
a new one, the last one wrecked,
view to the north, in good sun,
sees distant Mount Washington.
Inside is the fireplace,
built way back in olden days,
massive field-stones found nearby,
shunt the black smoke to the sky.
A big table grandpa built,
difty years, we use it still,
kitchen that is way too small,
oven dominates it all.
All built back in the sixties,
grandpa sick of the city,
back when the land was still cheap,
when the tourists weren’t so deep.
Though I guess I’m one of them,
and so will be my children,
when I’m gone, their kids will roam
our ancestral vacation home.
Categories:
hayed, children, family, grandfather, imagery,
Form: Rhyme
An American Tradition
I always have hayed to be sedated
So many more poems contemplated
Writing that up on me often creep
Calmly and can put you to sleep.
May read poems like these before
Many to death am sure did bore
Then emailed them out on internet
To foolish poets you may have met.
Of course was extremely hard to tell
Who for stories in poems finally fell
After reading them in complete entire
You soon said liar, liar pants on fire.
How many causes were you defeating?
As poem number had been depleting
Disturbing and designed to be ill-fated
Hoped they ended up being evaporated.
All were horrible and written very bad
(So Trump would say.)
And not reading again, you were glad,
Having conformed to American tradition,
Hearing rhetoric from each politician.
Hearing President at News Convention
Where likely limited is the competition,
Having much humor and many facts
Honest and from truth never detracts.
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
Categories:
hayed, allegory, analogy, humorous,
Form: Couplet
The once rich fields lay fallow now
Spared of the harrows blade
Abundant crops but memories
The grasses long since hayed
The old farm tractor, silent now
Still sadly stands in wait
Dressed in a red brown coat of rust
Unyielding to it's fate
12/26/2011
Categories:
hayed, nostalgia,
Form: Rhyme