No spring rains,
again.
Your four-horse team
plowing
land
that will not yield
its promise.
What did you feel
when your horses and tack
went up for auction,
and all you could do
was simply walk off
the land?
Can you communicate
that
to your grandsons
in words on a page?
Deserts
and stony ground,
and a dying enemy
begging for water.
No one saw but he
as you shared your canteen.
What did you feel
when he handed you
his crucifix
as thanks,
and died in your arms?
Can you communicate
that
to your grandsons
in words on a page?
And the green rotting
jungle
that gave no quarter
with
no quarter given
by the combating
starvelings
in the mud.
- How beautiful
upon the mountains
were the feet of him
who brought good news
there
in your later years.
What did you feel
when you walked
those hills
again?
Can you communicate
that
to your grandsons
in words on a page?
And the child
of your loins
born
when
the doctors said
your wounds
would leave you
childless.
What did you feel
when
you held her
that morning?
Can you communicate
that
to your grandsons
in words on a page?
And your heart
burned out
by plowing teams
and warfare
and the selfless
serving,
and the slow decay
and the letting go
and the lying down
in the soil.
Can you communicate
that
to your grandsons
in words on a page?
Or did it all show
in your life
so that those passing
could read,
as God held
the book of your life
in His hands?
Author notes
WX3939
L24-28: I still have the soldier's crcifix.
L41-46: Isaiah 52:7
A contest entry
- When an Old Man Dies, A Library Burns Down by ea.
700 points, ended October 20, 14 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 12 of 12
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Oh my....this write was eligible for the Gold!
The emotion I felt as I read being married to a farmer and 4 generations of farmers, was so raw, spiritual ....A mosaic of a man and his life....Beautifully penned!
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Rose,
Saskachewan or Australia; broad acre wheat farming has the same perils and joys; as you obviously know.
Actually the poem didn't address the contest criteria as such; but it did give me an opportunity to be grateful for my father-in-law's life.
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Lita,
Thanks for the read and comment. I'm pleased it reminded you of your father. My father-in-law was farmer, miner, mechanic, soldier, parent, missionary, grandparent; and eventually subcome to his wounds. As gentle and patient with people as he had been with his horses. -
This could have been my father who was a farmer and in WWII as well, and your poem is a gift to the children and grandchildren of many old men. So tender and descriptive and meaningful. Lovely, lovely work, my dear friend. I so look forward to your writings!
Lita
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This is a very sensitive piece that communicates the hard lived life that has passed but not without hope that future generations might have a glimpse into its hardships, its struggles with the land and the wars and even the personal triumphs of begetting these future generations, which will not allow this life to have been lived in vain, even if they know nothing of it, whether this man communicated it or not; it's in their blood.
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Thanks ea
My father-in-law definately didn't live in vain.
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Such a sad event, dying. But even worse is the knowledge that dies with us. Nicely done. I like the repetition of the one stanza throughout the poem.
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Even if I wasn't an Australian and feeling these words as an Anzac marched by or watching a farmer struggle in the midst of a drought, I would still see the meaning and the beauty in this because the write itself is timeless and caste free, it could be for anyone in any country and still hold true. One that I have thoroughly enjoyed. C
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Hi Postie,
Yes, he was a very special ANZAC. I left out more than I put down.
Thanks for visiting. Nice to hear from you again. -
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Special and perhaps your grandfather? It just seems to have that very personal air to it, that's why it sits and lingers as you read it...sort of reminds me of my favorite Peter Allen song Tenterfield Saddler. C
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Beatiful
This is simply beautiful, no other words do I have for it. It touched my soul
as nothing has for a long time. You told it all in this poem.
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I was just humming the song Ruby Tuesday a moment ago. Thanks for your read and comment.
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