Burning sun shrivels his face into a long look out on to land
that reflects his worry, wander and parched plea.
This man wishes for billowing sail,
broad mountain landscapes, and a New World
that is anywhere but here where unappeasable God
leans heel of his hand on a good man’s dreams.
His bib overalls, stained with barn paint;
his hands, chafed by grip on hoe;
shirt, worn thin by constant press
of palm to heart; his feet, stuck to sod
like he was rooted;
prairie dry tongue left out in sun
cracks on his words about scorched earth
to a God who gives him rain in his heart.
He was too worried to notice
his well-planted seeds floated
on lack of feelings on a wild west wind.
He was not conditioned for feelings
that hung on his back waiting for acceptance.
Author notes
prompt: Unconditioned Awareness
In a list
A contest entry
- Unconditioned Awareness by maa.
999 points, ended September 3, 2007, 9 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 12 of 12
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Well done...
Bravo! I love your description of his hands, shirt and
overalls...you painted a lovely picture with your words.
*PEACE"
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Your words press on me like my own burden - I have known men like this, who give up looking for their dreams, or indeed anything good.
You have drawn your images so clearly my tongue dried up. Well done, congratulations.
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ty Margaret. I have seen broken-backed men who are liek this....and not necessarily old men. So many are so disheartened and forget to look at the little faces aroudn them, waiting to know there is hope.
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YOu have such a vision...it flows through these pieces you create bringing such souls to life
and reaching to the reader...with such humanity as to not be denied. Congrats on this recognition. Blue
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ty Blue Rew. Our elders so need to know that every row they hoed gave results of some kind.
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this was by far the most intriguing entry in this contest ... and so very touching ... I had read it yesterday before going to bed, and during the night, I had a dream about being this old man whose back is bowed and burdened with the heavy load of past beliefs and rigid conditionings ... like ghosts, those heavy energies were suffocating me and preventing my breathing ...
yet now, that those ghosts have been recognized, they have played their role and can vanish into formlessness ...
thank you so much for your guidance,
maa
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you are welcome, maa, you know where topalce burdens and how they can be picked up and made use of by others who needed jsut that exact thing
ty for the bronze my friend.
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for me, each of the first three entries are gold winners - therefore I wished to offer 333 points to each one of you ... congratulations on your bronzen gold-trophy, so to say
and thank you again for this powerful and insightful message, my friend ...
marion
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Sounds like so many feathers in need of wing to stretch inside a breeze of notice...to carry what is real to bare inside a comming cloud of dust, and releasing every flowered wisher, rain might fall to greener desert....again so beautiful
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such a lovely comment, as always...
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beautiful painting. someone you understand well.
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Ah, yes, sometimes I am that very reflection, when I am sitting in my own muddle...but it does not last any longer than it takes a stray ray of sun to find me.
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