Garden of a Meager Harvest
By David J Walker
The rusted remains
of the old farm truck
Remain on the untilled patch
of prairie grass plains
as long as I
can remember
The old Farmall tractor
Planted on the southside of a
Long row to hoe
that I know
All too well
A windmill unused for years
Squeals and creeks in a wind
That still tries in vain to
Turn its blades
For a cool drink of water
Monuments held
captive inside a
barbed wire fence
as if to prevent an escape
The trusted truck stands ready
As if it’s rusted out bed could
Carry to market the fruit of
A summers labor
The remains of the old
Pick-up lost its windows
Long ago
Field mice have nested under
The bench seat and eat
Everything that isn’t rusted metal
How long before its tires
Finally expire
exhaling rust
Giving up the ghost
Of a dusty last breath
Of a garden's meager harvest
I am a teacher
Eager beaver
Full of beans
I build bridges
And burn the candle at both ends
I am a teacher
Cap in hand
Full of the milk of human kindness
I fight tooth and nail
To make my pupils see reason
I am a teacher
As hard as nails
Face like thunder
I resent cheap shots
And the breaking of every rule in the book
I am a teacher
With a carrot and a stick
I bring my pupils to heel
I reward who reach for the moon
I clip pupils’ wings
If they go far and off the rails
I am a teacher
Not a mouse potato
And not behind the times either
I am all ears
I bare my soul to my pupils
I make them explore all avenues
And go the extra mile
I am a teacher
I have my heart set on giving
It is a long row to hoe
I will make headway
Pull out all the stops
And hang in there
That’s what I have on the brain.
December 17th, 2015
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.