Thoughts from the farmyard in rural Ireland (late 1960s)
The burn would run all night and morning
Gurgling seductively outside my bedroom window
Golden brown and bubbling over the peat-moss moors
Sounds of scratching fowls and swishing cows
Cud-chewing to the milking parlour
A sow scraped and screamed at the runt of the litter
And I with one eye opened, feel the gentle Derry air
Lift the lace curtain and blow in a ‘good morning’
With its sickly smell of sweet manure
And fresh squeezed milk from bloated udder
A clang of creamery cans
A ‘get-out-of-here’ cry to cats
That craved fresh cream
And I awake on my uncle’s farm
Oh sweet, sweet memory
3 comments:
that was a great poem you are a natural by the way you potray the poem so vividly and just great all around keep writing i love your stuff!
this poem reduced me to tears of the long lost memories of my youth as i am irish i can relate to this poem. however this is not accurate we were born into slavery especially if we worked for the farmers they whipped us bare and gave us a crumpled brown 10 shilling note for a long hard backbreaking day of pulling potatoes up.
andy & percy
I am humbled by your comments.
What is really spooky is that I have just written anothe rone called ' And we were Kings' and it has the exact same words' crumpled brown ten shilling note..
Can anyone explain that?
Thanks - I plan to publish and podcast some - are you interested in subscribing?
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