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[TD1]

Really, never? I've been to one or two, even on primary school trips.

As for farms, gotta love 'em. Though I may be biased given I live on one.

[birdy51]

Well, stateside I grew up in a rural area. I may have been at a wealthier person's house once, but there is nothing that I would quite label an estate.

[TD1]

Well this seems to have ground to a halt. Alas, poetry can not keep me from the vice which is holiday.


Mine me boys, mine
Fer what's below to get.
It graces richer folk
But brings us milk and bread.
Mine me boys, mine
And pick thon silver stream.
It's ten times our salary
But we can nae start to dream.
Mine me boys, mine
Shovel the ashen lead
But do nae get in
Over your coal-choked head.
Mine me boys, mine
Wha cares you cough at night?
Doc says to stay indoors,
Though sick men get no pay.
Mine me boys, mine!
Strain 'gainst the rock and bone
We bring up valu-baubles
But nothing do we own;
Fer it's true what they say
Of those who mine the depths -
We mine me boys, mine
But in the end it's theirs!

For tomorrow: the seasons

[birdy51]

Poems last always,
Threads of words and timeless praise,
Necromancy, yay!

Glad to see the thread woke up again. I prefer more or less just posting on occasion more than anything!

[TD1]

Ah, Spring, Spring, Spring!
It has arrived, like some
Green fingered lady from the country
Who sows the seed and dances,
Green on yellow, blue and white
Above – ten thousand speckled,
Precious things left in the nest
And Daffodils, yellow as a razor
Hum their trumpet tunes to themselves
Beside some stretch of ice-melt water.

Then it is gone, but we recall that song
As growing from the darkness comes
The sun, and he is heard to hum
Beside the ever stretching blue.
Beaches surge to the sound of surf
And children run to see if they can get
The coveted cone, sweetness in the sun!
Grandparents sit, stripped of their youth
But smile with their remembrance of the summers
That they once had, swinging on aged boughs
And swimming in the country rivers.

Gone! The cycle quickens and the earth winds down
To orange, orange, orange! The colours
Burst from plant and tree in haloes
And the hedgehog tumbles in the ditch,
Playful and wise with his pattern.
Each night is crisp with memory of where
The wheel has taken them, and stealing
Along the sky the sun is often clouded
And bearded, old yet full of life.
How the seasons can balance on a knife!

Each germ now comes to this, the colour gone
And spectre grey the country side.
The lady sowed her last and leaves
The barren lanes, the stricken trees.
She smiles, however, as she still knows
That ice can form and crystallise, but
She will be back when the wheel turns
And in the meantime snow can fall
Enchanting all who watch the country sleep
Into thinking they are arriving at some ball
The fair folk held. May the lake freeze
And river hold its quiet noise!
We know the green, the glowing green,
The yellow and the orange, sky lark
Thrush and black bird,
Eventually will join their brother robin
With Pan to blow the pipes
And guide their steps in their predestined dance!

For tomorrow: a colour.

[birdy51]

Seasons pass and seasons fall.
Winter, Summer, Spring takes us all.
Winter is cold,
and Fall grows old.
How many days pass under it's fold?

Too many, that's how much.
To live in the Bahamas, that'd be a clutch.
To live in sun and shining splendor,
And perhaps take some ice cream from a vendor.
Ah, what days to remember!

But would that be enough?
Could I take that kind of stuff?
Nay, I say.
Winter carries memories that all go their way.
And nothing quite beats the quiet Fall day.

Spring has it's fling.
And summer takes to it's wing.
But please also give me,
The quiet of a silenced tree,
And golden groves and snow-grown fields about me be.

[TD1]

Silver flower, the dew of night cast
Like tears upon its surface
Pearly with wisdom, seeing death
Approach within its waxen sphere, but it is real
And dear to me, a humble thing this plant
Just silver, fans of silken heart
That capture one who dares -
So foolish he who dares! -
To look into its core of want, the typhoon
All mortals look upon with fear,
For it reveals that which we hold most dear.
Silver it is, and green, the gleaming plant
That I would hold, that I would love.
Desire is in its nature, though,
A thought wrought of the finest filigree
Too delicate ever to be touched;
But, by God, the beauty of its presence!
Want suffuses all with bursts of light,
Yet that which fuels it makes it flee;
The last light of the moon upon a distant crag,
Or froth upon the day's last volley from the sea.

For tomorrow: Greek mythology.

[TD1]

-Snippety-
For tomorrow: Anything. (Bit of a cop out, but it's laaaate.)

As a side note, I've always felt deeply sorry for Calypso and her lost love, and for Odysseus who must stare ever for home while she tries to keep him company and content. It's always struck me as both poignant and sad.

[TD1]

I stand along the bank, and have some thought
To blueness of the wave and shaded grotto
Where, so long ago, many a hand was dandled
Into the deep greenness. Here, Wordsworth held his pen
And shaded eyes that gleamed with unshed tears.
Here poets came in darker days, when full of fears
To gaze upon the greenness and the freshness,
The Eden of England, rugged and soft at once
With brooding height and shaded light.
Now here I come, with less a pen and more a thought
To hold in awe the blue-swept colour, magic in nature
Curve holding bluff and shard of rock, yet still
Enveloped in the gentle mists, softened and held
Gently, as with a child that needs but one soft tender touch
To know that it is loved. One can not help but sigh
To look into the waters and to breathe the air, to hike
The mountain trails of upland church, Yew and Oak
Towards the clearing deepness of the sky!

For tomorrow: An emotion.

[Tomasque]

Up above, a god's great eye
moves across the deep blue sky.
You can't see that now it cries:
When night comes, tears - frozen - lie.
Stained by sadness, never die.

Down below, a silver grin
though, in deep blue sea, a twin,
keeps - like brother - sadness in.
Pearly clouds slip out it's skin:
It cries, too, like brighter kin.

[RoseHeart]

I eat cake all day
To help me laugh away
Deepest sorrow I cannot say
Something missing, question mark
My heart is in the dark
For I feel Joy
While others weep dry tears
I climb trees While others hide from fears
Am I broken question mark
Or is it time I reverse the dark

[TD1]

Sugar, I forgot to continue this. Thanks for reminding me - it's hard to get up the motivation to do it every day, and then I get caught up in other projects. Also, nice poems. I find it sad that when asked to write about emotion, we write on sadness - seems like a comment on all of us, heh.

In tales of old there ride
Great knights of Green and Blue
Who never counted men who died
In honour to be few.

Instead they raised the banner,
Flocked to noble cause -
Each one without a stammer
Quoted their rightful laws.

Each one in twilight stood
And fought to see the day -
Protectors of the dying wood,
Of hearth and crooked way.

Their sigils blew before their steeds,
The bards were heard to sing
In gracious tones the praise of deeds
Done in the name of lawful king.

But they are gone from here
And so we must decide -
Who will reject their fear,
Who'll stand against the tide?

None can, none will and least
Of all shall I be brave.
For I have never faced that beast
Nor would I venture to its cave.

Cowardice is all that remains, a
Stammer in the lawful book
Unwillingness to hold the blade
And fear to fight for good.

For tomorrow: Something based on mythology or fantasy.

[TD1]

You looked at me with eyes of grey,
I knew you were my one.
Your hair was red as brightest day,
It blazed just like the sun.

My heart is yours, my dearest friend
That from my home has come-
From Emond’s Field your journeys wend,
And yet from me they run.

Oh yes, I knew you were for me
The moment I first saw
Your eyes the colour of the sea
That caused my heart to thaw.

A girl that spoke to me one day-
One fateful day of flight!
Told me that you and I’d not stay
A couple ‘neath the Light.

O woe, my love, don’t say it’s so!
I knew you since a child-
My love is free to stay or go,
For you it’s running wild.

Three girls to find, and you’re not one-
My dear, I love you yet…
And still, though you’re my sun
The sun must always set.

Three girls to find, and yet not me?
My hands they tremble, now,
How can you say these dreadful things,
How can you make this row!

The Wheel of Time weaves as it wills…

Speak not of Wheels, speak not of Time!
They both are nets to hold-
My love is endless as the rhyme
Of Ages long untold.

I speak because I’ve got a crown,
And you have got a Seat…
A Daughter Heir with eyes that drown
This day I chanced to meet.

The stole no longer is a gift,
It is a burden hard…
And yet, the Tower is my charge,
I have to stand as guard.

Goodbye, my dear, I’ve had my say
And miss your arms I do…
But fate has bound me off away
From home, from friends, from you.

I see. The harder sight I have of you,
The world is bound beneath
The chains that hold, with war as glue
And swords are on your wreath.

I must away, my precious friend,
I have a State to run-
I’ve found my three, and they love me,
You’ve ceased to be my sun…

The Wheel of Time weaves as it wills.

((Okay I didn't write that one today. Shoot me ))

For tomorrow: An unexpected guest.

[Tomasque]

I didn't hear him enter, but he sure did come that night.
When I saw what he had done, it gave me quite a fright!
Our presents equally distributed - what a sight!

Spoiler: I thought they were just rumors... but he's alive, alright. (click to show/hide)

 It took awhile, I know.

[Tomasque]

 You know who would be an unexpected guest? Th4DwArfY1!

    oooh! burn!


 But seriously, please stick with this. You're not the only one who needs prompts to keep themselves going. Hell, I'll even throw a prompt in here:
 Jester
((Maybe I'm being biased in my decision, but whatever.))