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Array ( [sid] => 83600 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => At The Farm [time] => 2005-02-09 00:43:33 [hometext] => [bodytext] => Age nine went to live
in pure sunshine.
Fresh country air.
Life on a small farm
with nary a care.

So many fond memories.
(some that haunt)
Burned images within my mind.
(some I do not want)

Those of pleasure
I do treasure in this maze.
Porch swing, summer days,
dusty gravel road haze.

Weeping willow.
Branches like hair,
brushing the ground.
In my childhood view,
happiness abounds.

Tire swing hanging
from the wise old maple tree.
Treehouse up top,
where no one could see me.

Summer evenings,
sitting with Her.
Snapping green beans,
sipping cold iced tea.
Smell of fresh mowed grass,
permeates the air.
Bottom of my feet....
stained green.

Two big gardens We worked.
Fished the pond way out back.
Big mulberry tree on one side,
good for a quick snack.

Oh, how I love my years
on the farm.
Haven't gone back there though....
in such a long while.

See.... She died there.
That's the way She wanted it.
Cancer wasted Her away.
Old bed in the living room.
Moaning in pain.
Lingering....
Day after Day.

Held Her hand
with that last
earthly breath.
Child watched
her Mothers' death...

At the Farm.
[comments] => 6 [counter] => 231 [topic] => 65 [informant] => deadheadpoet [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 10 [ratings] => 3 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => toughstuff )

At The Farm

Contributed by deadheadpoet on Wednesday, 9th February 2005 @ 12:43:33 AM in AEST
Topic: toughstuff

Age nine went to live
in pure sunshine.
Fresh country air.
Life on a small farm
with nary a care.

So many fond memories.
(some that haunt)
Burned images within my mind.
(some I do not want)

Those of pleasure
I do treasure in this maze.
Porch swing, summer days,
dusty gravel road haze.

Weeping willow.
Branches like hair,
brushing the ground.
In my childhood view,
happiness abounds.

Tire swing hanging
from the wise old maple tree.
Treehouse up top,
where no one could see me.

Summer evenings,
sitting with Her.
Snapping green beans,
sipping cold iced tea.
Smell of fresh mowed grass,
permeates the air.
Bottom of my feet....
stained green.

Two big gardens We worked.
Fished the pond way out back.
Big mulberry tree on one side,
good for a quick snack.

Oh, how I love my years
on the farm.
Haven't gone back there though....
in such a long while.

See.... She died there.
That's the way She wanted it.
Cancer wasted Her away.
Old bed in the living room.
Moaning in pain.
Lingering....
Day after Day.

Held Her hand
with that last
earthly breath.
Child watched
her Mothers' death...

At the Farm.

Copyright © deadheadpoet ... [ 2005-02-09 00:43:33]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: At The Farm (User Rating: 1 )
by shelby on Wednesday, 9th February 2005 @ 01:09:29 AM AEST
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a bittersweet memory etched with such beauty yet sadness....

this brought me back some memories as well the weeping willow the tire swing gardens animals

Im sorry that there is a painful memory mixed with this also..... brought a tear to my eye

Re: At The Farm (User Rating: 1 )
by Ravensfire on Wednesday, 9th February 2005 @ 12:54:04 PM AEST
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AWESOME WRITE. Brings back sad and great memories of my time in Pa. and Ohio.

Re: At The Farm (User Rating: 1 )
by Willofree on Wednesday, 9th February 2005 @ 06:30:14 PM AEST
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What a beautiful and very emotional rendition of sweet and sad childhood memories. I really liked the flow and imagery of your poem: especially the stanza with the willow tree....

Super write
Willofree

Re: At The Farm (User Rating: 1 )
by GingerB on Wednesday, 9th February 2005 @ 08:44:22 PM AEST
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love the imagery you created here. Beaufully sad too.

Ginny

Re: At The Farm (User Rating: 1 )
by Rhymingron on Tuesday, 15th February 2005 @ 04:37:59 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

This one brings back lots of good memories and a few sad ones. Good write.

Re: At The Farm (User Rating: 1 )
by girltranscended on Sunday, 13th March 2005 @ 02:52:00 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

wow! what a very interesting piece.
I especially liked this stanza:

"Those of pleasure
I do treasure in this maze.
Porch swing, summer days,
dusty gravel road haze."

I am working still to get to the farm, I am glad you got to spend some time there already. Don't let go of those good memories. :)

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