My Tynedale.
My Tynedale. (Summer)
Hedgerows green, wood pigeons preen,
Quiet valleys seldom seen,
Winding lanes for country miles,
Run down farmhouses with missing tiles,
Field after field of ripened corn,
This is my Tynedale, the place I was born.
The guns and the beaters all head for the fell,
Their target; grouse, maybe pheasant as well,
A year’s work done, it’s the glorious twelfth,
The birds all released in the best of health,
Thrashing and flailing, and waving their flags,
Brace after brace dropping down to the crags.
Farmer and labourers amass in field,
Make hay while the sun shines and gather their yield,
Cutting and bailing, trailers stacked high,
A ploughman’s lunch under Northumberland sky,
The sun getting hotter as they rake up the last,
Off to the inn, refresh and repast.
Singing old songs with forgotten lines,
The men all have ale, the womenfolk, wines,
Each and all tired from toiling the day,
Picking the tatties, or bailing the hay,
All the work done, beast watered and fed,
‘Tis the end of the day, aye! ‘Tis time for bed.
poem by Derek. A. Sim
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Corn-fields of Endor
Standing on a hill of Jezreel,
Watching growing corn in the field,
Listens she does to the birds’ song
And to the trilling crickets’ chirp.
The sun now pass the most far hills
Means the days’ work is over and done.
Soon the night guard will shut city gates
And all eyes will yield to the dark.
By music of the spirit of silence,
The visions of rest are made to dance.
Then in the middle of the darkest night,
She arises from slumber and the bed,
And leaves the sweet relaxing visions
She had waltzing through her head.
Laying aside all her night garments,
Off she runs to her nightly chore.
Running around the corn they planted,
Makes her sacred circle ‘bout the field.
Magic footsteps giving blessing
By her dance and dark undressing.
Soon passed the summer season
And away went her warmest sigh.
Corn in green and golden garments,
Stood in ripened splendor gleaming.
With its emerald sheaths bursting,
Send its gold rays into the sky.
To the harvest come young maidens,
To strip the ears of their garments,
Laughing under the spreading trees,
They sing the blessings of Jezreel.
poem by Albert Price
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Love Field
You lie so unfolded
In a love field
With your contempt for any modesty
In a love field
In a love field
In a love field
You yield with your lips still sealed
In a love field
Lost in a sea of imaginary women
Everything youd want
From the dawn to the dimming
Breath comes sharp and heart beats faster
In a love field
Cold ground for a pillow
Under a blanket of stars
In a love field
In a love field
In a love field
Headlights that startled
This embrace of hours
In a love field
In a crooked house
Where things can be arranged
You think youre different from the rest
But you dont see how youve changed
Under an archway
On a road of white linen
In a love field
Feel the anxious rhythm of a functional stranger
In a love field
In a love field
In a love field
Shes so tense but its never mentioned
In a love field
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Let the scoundrels return
Like a lightning bolt
coming out of a blue sky
there are bombs falling
in a field where maze
stand green and ripe in neat rows
and craters are left and the field is on fire.
A few more bombs fall exploding
between cattle grazing in the field
and some are blasted to pieces
and the cows in terror forget about their milk.
The farmer is woken from his afternoon nap
and grabs his hunting rifle.
“We hit the wrong target”
the flight leader confirms
and the farmer waits with a gun in hand
on the planes to return and says:
“let the scoundress return.”
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Traditional Panorama
cows spotted thick
skins grazing on the green
field with golden rays of
sunshine
early morning
birds flying hovering
on tree branches
fences, and boundaries
cottage of a farmer
blue clouds now starting
to hover in place
a girl singing butterflies
mother milking the cows
and father beginning
to plow the corn field
no plane above the skies
no rockets
at night some meteors
fall,
wishing stars and
zodiac escapades
from the numbing routine
of traditions
no one escapes
the panorama is closed and
strict
the characters are born
marry, beget children,
and then they die
and get buried
years and years
leaves fall, there are no questions.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Kid Inside
There's a kid inside
And I have him with me always
There's a kid inside
Walking down old high school hallways
There's a kid inside
At a desk, at a dance, in the halls,in the showers
There's a kid inside
To this very day
And he makes a try for that high pop fly
That I fumble one september
And he makes a fuss
Over some A plus
That I shouldn't still remember
And he goes along
Getting hurt,getting mad,fighting fights that are over
And unless I'm strong
All my senses are carried away
I could fell my hand
My tremblin hand
On the shelf angora sweather
I can hear my band
That awful band,only now it sounds much better
I can see the kid
The kid I use to be
On the stage,on the field,on the lunch line
I can feel him tugging at me
Every time I think I don't care I blink
And he's there again
He's there again
Fighting ancient wrongs
Humming old hit songs in my head
Singing come along,come along
Come along for the ride
To a time and place
I could not forget if I tried
And I never know when the breeze'll blow
With a rush of old sensation
Why the kid should wake
And my heart should ache
Everytime I smell carnations
Something rings the bell
Any thing at all
All it takes is a slam of a locker
Of the switch from summer or fall
A change in season
Seems better than reason
But there he goes
He's there again
Fighting ancient wrong
Humming old hit songs in my head
Singing come along, come along
Come along for the ride
To a time and place
I could not for get if I try
There he goes again
Hummin his songs
He's there again
There's a kid ins
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Country Scrumping
Your country cousin took you
Across a field to a vast orchard
Where low hung branches
Made the green apples within
Reach of your young boy’s hands.
Don’t eat too many of them
Or you’ll get gut ache, she said.
Your eyes had never seen so
Many apples, row after row
In long lines down the field and
Fields beyond. You picked an apple
And bit into it. They make cider
From these, she said, picking off
An apple too and biting with relish.
Your younger sister looked nervously
On wondering if she too should pick.
Go on, your cousin said, pick and eat.
Your sister reached up and pulled
And a few apples fell to the ground
With soft sounds of thump on the
Short grass. She picked up one and
Brushed it off on her dress. Have to
Run if the farmer comes, your cousin
Said, and don’t tell of this or we’ll be
For it. For what? Your sister asked.
Your cousin looked around and replied,
A good telling off or a good tanned ass.
You stood all three of you eating, beneath
The apple trees, in the short green grass.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Let It Breathe
Could we do it again
If he asked how it felt
And I didnt say this time
You tried to scare me with empty thoughts
That means not a thing
cause Im down behind you
Could we swing it again
If I changed how he looked
And turned to the right to bend
You live with something that I cant explain
But your face cracks a smile when you see it shining
You feel things in your own way
And Im supposed to lay down and bow to you
Im tired of bailing hay for something that I cant see
I dont want to be you
You dont want to be me.
Just let it breathe
If the moon goes up tomorrow and Im down on a farm
And you dont believe whose writing with me
Keep your hands to yourself
Keep your mind to yourself
Keep your breath to yourself
Let me float on by you
You see things in your own way
And Im supposed to lay down and bow to you
Im tired of bailing hay for something that I cant see
You dont want to be me
I dont want to be you
Its so very necessary
Its so delectable to see a stone
Its so impossible to find a reason
When youre standing there
Watching me now
Could we live it again
If we dressed just the same
And held on to lovers when
We couldnt really live with anyone
See mostly ourselves so just go on lying
You feel things in your own way
And Im supposed to lay down and bow to you
Im tired of bailing hay for someone that I cant see
I dont want to be you
You dont want to be me
Just let it breathe
Let it breathe
song performed by by Hootie & The Blowfish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Farmer's Bride (Cavatina Sequence) (In Answer To Charlotte Mew)
There was a farmer's wife, who was afraid
every day,
was driven wild with unmentioned fear;
always away
she was hidden beyond some lock and key,
never was gay
but doves gathered at her window sill,
many birds fluttered near at her will.
Without much love she was driven to work,
once she did flee
with the farmer and his labourers searching;
she was happy
while she was hiding in the large cornfield,
was from fear free,
later sneaked into the nearest church,
while drunk from the bar her husband did lurch.
Like a small animal she was hiding,
the minister
prayed for her but then took her back home,
quite sinister
acted the farmer as he whipped her,
did register
her into a lunatic asylum
and of his actions that was the sum.
The magpie's feathers did lie in her room
and she was gone
as if she had suddenly taken flight,
had moved on,
one day to a much better loving world,
but all alone
until his sudden death the farmer was,
they found him deep in a field of green grass.
[Reference: 'The Farmer's Bride' by Charlotte Mew.]
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In My Field
Im in my field
Im in my stream
And Im love
Im in my tree
I take a walk
Nine hundred miles
I cross the stile
Im in my field
And Im in love
And its for free
Im in my field
Im in my field
Im in my field
Im in my stream
And I will yield
Im in my field
And Im in love
Across the stile
Come in my field
Just you and me
Well take a walk
Nine hundred miles
And Im in love
Well count the stars
Im in my field
Im in my stream
Well Im in love
Just you and me
Im in my field
Im in my stream
Well Im in love
Im in my tree
I take a walk
Nine hundred miles
I cross the stile
Im in my field
song performed by by Ocean Colour Scene
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Under the Snow
If green the corn and burning the volcano,
Though snowclad, buried under rocks of ice,
Why shall the heart not love and burn in waving
Expectant green, or rising flames of hot
Enthusiasm, or burst into a torrent
Of wrath, though snow the summit long hath crowned?
Behold! The field is green, the seed has risen
That thou hast thrown into these aching furrows,
Once ploughed by Destiny, and sown with sorrow
And watered with the wells of tears, that dropped
Upon each grain and flowed through all the furrows.
They see the snow upon thine head, but not
The corn and not the threat'ning furnace of
Thy soul. They think it is extinct, they hope
Thou hast forgotten, that the gentle warmth
They feel is sunshine, not the stormy fire,
That cannot cease to burn: for it remembers.
poem by Carmen Sylva
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
Elastic Hours
Lick the potash with contempt
I'm made into
A silent frown of balled up yarn
and wood grain
My cold hands stretch these elastic hours
into days that pass
two at a time
I lie around
trying to make sentences and love myself
Contaminated by tinnitus
As expectant
as a dog wearing uncontained excitement
and let down when the sun sets without a bone
My own,
locked together with bailing wire
that work in vain to show how
much you mean to me
and ache,
because of all the fun we're missing.
poem by Sara Fielder
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Night Before The Mowing
ALL shimmering in the morning shine
And diamonded with dew,
And quivering in the scented wind
That thrills its green heart through,--
The little field, the smiling field,
With all its flowers a-blowing,
How happy looks the golden field
The day before the mowing!
All still 'neath the departing light,
Twilight, though void of stars,
Save where, low westering, Venus hides
From the red eye of Mars;
How quiet lies the silent field
With all its beauties glowing;
Just stirring,--like a child asleep,--
The night before the mowing.
Sharp steel, inevitable hand,
Cut keen, cut kind! Our field
We know full well must be laid low
Before its wealth it yield:
Labor and mirth and plenty blest
Its blameless death bestowing:
And yet we weep, and yet we weep,
The night before the mowing.
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
After the Munich Putsch..
After history
something to do
with the Munich Putsch
in 1923
and going out
on to the school
playing field
Rolland said
That hot lips chick
is waving to you
from the outer fence
and so off you went
leaving Rolland
to go kick ball
with others on the field
and as you strolled
towards Christina
she came towards you
leaving her giggling friends
behind and met you
half way on the field
and said
I dreamed of you last night
her voice floated
around you
for a moment or two
and you saw across
her shoulder
Rolland head the ball
towards the goal
between two jumpers left
on the ground
then looked back at her
standing there
bright eyed
with her dark brown hair
and you said
Did I behave?
And she took your hand
and walked you across
the field slowly
and replied
Of course you did
Oh good
you said
wishing you could
have shared her dream
making it your own
she squeezed your hand
and said
Do you dream of me?
Yes
you said
Most nights
trying to make the lie
convincing you dramatized
a scene that never happened
and she smiled
and laughed
and you noticed
out of the corner
of your eye
Rolland kicking the ball
goal ward and waving
his hand then
having reached
the boundary of the field
at the wood's edge
she kissed you
on the cheek and said
I'm glad you dream
of me as well
and smiled
and lay her head
upon your arm
and soon you knew
the bell would ring
for end of play
and maybe
you thought
smelling her perfume
and shampooed hair
kissing her head
you might
dream of her
for the first time
tonight.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Irreparableness
I HAVE been in the meadows all the day
And gathered there the nosegay that you see
Singing within myself as bird or bee
When such do field-work on a morn of May.
But, now I look upon my flowers, decay
Has met them in my hands more fatally
Because more warmly clasped,--and sobs are free
To come instead of songs. What do you say,
Sweet counsellors, dear friends ? that I should go
Back straightway to the fields and gather more ?
Another, sooth, may do it, but not I !
My heart is very tired, my strength is low,
My hands are full of blossoms plucked before,
Held dead within them till myself shall die.
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sports Day 1962
It was sports day
at high school
and the field and tracks
were crowded with
teachers and kids
and the sun was out
causing sweat
and heat rash
and Reynard said to you
that girl who fancies your ass
is waving to you
over by the small wood
of trees and bushes
so you looked over
and saw Christina
waving a hand at you
leaping up and down
her short gym skirt
rising and falling
as she leaped
showing off
now and then
her dark green panties
mind she don't eat you
Reynard said
and walked off
to watch the races
as you wandered over
to where she stood
at the edge
of the small wood
don't you look
the sexy beast
in your black shorts
she said
eyeing you over
her right hand smoothing
down your white tee shirt
are you running?
she asked
yes a short sprint
you replied
anything more than that
and I'm buggered
she looked at the field
holding her hands
in front of her
and you gazed
at her white legs
and white ankle socks
and black plimsolls
I'm in the relay race
she said
I‘ll have to watch
to see when my turn comes
then she turned to you
and said
have you been inside the wood?
you looked behind you
no not so far have you?
yes we went there
in science looking for bugs
and such
she said
maybe you could show me
you said
what?
bugs and flowers
and butterflies
you replied
she smiled at you
maybe but teachers might be watching
or other kids or prefects
and what if my brother Cedric
sees us enter
and tells my parents?
just a science tour
to see all nature's gifts
you said
tell them that
if any see us go
and you watched her
fumble with her fingers
looking around the field
and whispered softly
no.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet- The Farmer
Despite all progress, Science has made today,
The Indian farmers tills the field old style;
And threshes sheaves to sort the grain from hay;
Returning late with bullocks, walking miles!
The scorching Sun can’t tan his skin much more;
The pouring rain destroys the crops, he raised;
The mighty winds can’t make his eyes more sore;
By end of day, he looks tired and dazed.
The rodents, birds play havoc in his field;
The insects eat the sprouting grain and leaves;
The manure-costs affects his yearly yield;
And all he makes is thinner, smaller sheaves.
And middle-men ruin the sum he makes;
He feeds others but keeps just cow-dung cakes!
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Cedric's Message.
Cedric approached you
in the playground and said
My sister Christina
wants to see you
on the playing field lunchtime
and he said it
in a quiet voice
as if he didn't want
the other boys to hear
he ran messages for girls
and off he went
to play with some other boys
leaving you to stare out
onto the empty playing field
and so lunch time
after you'd eaten dinner
you went onto the playing field
beneath the summer sun
and there she was
over by the wire fence
waiting for you
and you said
Cedric said you wanted to see me
and she said
Yes do you mind
if we walk off alone together
I don't want other's ears
to move in on our conversation
No sure
you said
Let's go over by the woods
by the far fence
and so you walked off with her
across the playing field
by other kids who were playing
football or sitting talking
or playing skip rope
or whatever
and when you came
to the woods
you sat down with her
and she said
You do love me
don't you?
I mean you're not
seeing anyone else?
You looked across
the playing field
to where you'd sat
with another
some months before
and she had asked
the same question
but since then
it had turned
momentarily sour
Yes and no
you said
looking back at her
taking in her dark hair
and deep eyes
and how her hand
lay on her thigh
covered by grey skirt
and her naked knees
just visible
to the eye
What do you mean
yes and no?
she asked
you watched
her lips move
and replied
Yes I love you
and no I'm not
seeing another
and she smiled at you
and put her hand on yours
and waited for a kiss
and so you did
her lips on yours
out by the woods
on that summer day
out of doors.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Idler’s Calendar. Twelve Sonnets For The Months. September
FEAST OF ST. PARTRIDGE
The only saint in all our calendar
Is good St. Partridge. 'Tis his feast to--day,
The happiest day of all a happy year,
And heralded as never yet was May.
The dawn has found us marshalled for the fray,
Striding the close--shorn stubbles ranked in line,
With lust of battle and with lust of play
Made glorious drunk as men are drunk with wine.
There go the coveys, forward birds and strong,
Bound for the mangold where they wheel and stop.
Now, steady, men, and bring the left along.
A fortune waits us in each turnip--top.
With a wild shriek, and then a whirr of wings,
The covey rises. Brace and brace they drop,
Joining the dead ranks of forgotten things
In glorious death, the fierce delight of kings.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Without A Song
Without a song the day would never end
Without a song the road would never bend
When things go wrong oh
A man aint got a friend
Without a song
A field of corn would never see a plow
That field of corn would be deserted now
A man is born, but hes no good no how
Without a song
Without a song
song performed by by Carpenters
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Field Of Dreams
May tomorrow bring you sunshine
as you kiss the sky
in this field of dreams
alone here, you stand
lost little dandelion
soaking up the morning sun
Love flowing like streams
torn apart at the seams
summer days are never gone
with just one promise in your hand
yesterday memories
blowing in the breeze
still never lost in time
You listen to every dropp of rain
fall like teardrops outside your window
in this field of dreams
you never let go
we hide behind the pain
this love so vein
Days so bitter sweet
days that never end
nights that just pass by
in this field of dreams
its only you and I
where our love will mend
And hearts tortured it seems
there is where we will meet
in this field of dreams
where we will never die
In this field of dreams
I'm still lonely on these streets
waiting here for you to be mine
(spiritwind-2009)
poem by Spiritwind Wood
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!