With strength and courge
and a furrowed brow,
the old man picked up his rusty plow.
He walked out to the field
bent down, kneeled,
and prayed before begining.
He prayed for past days,
the ones withered away.
He prayed he was far from his dying day.
But once in the field,
he never did yield
to the task he was set to do.
Once he was done
in the blistering sun
and his shadow was long and thin,
he took back to his house
where he sat with a bottle of gin.
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3 Comments | tags: begining, bent, brow, courage, days, done, dying, field, gin, house, long, man, old, plow, poetry, prayed, strength, task, the farmer, thin, withered | posted in Uncategorized
when you start singing your not so alone
a place that’s not a place ain’t really a home
a fact that may be known can be thrown by some
to find new meaning in a house that’s gone
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Leave a comment | tags: alone, fact, gone, home, homeless, house, known, meaning, place, poetry, singing, some, thrown | posted in Uncategorized
Original Poetry 