Poetry Blogs (meadows) | Write Out Loud

Over the Hills and Far Away

One man went to mow his meadow

But when he got there he found

A machine had been and cut it clean

So instead of scything he sat down

And sighed for rabbit pie

Made from conies caught in the hedgerows

Hedgerows as old as the old ways

Which wend over hills and dales

Where little boy blue asleep in the hay

Was dreaming of metal monsters

That ate up little boys ...

🌷(3)

Saturday 29th June 2019 2:20 pm

Like the child I used to be

In a timeframe, that hadn’t altered.

I meandered through the meadow

Knee high in grass, buttercups

Nodding as I pass, their

Tall and stately faces upturned seeking the sun.

The hedgerows heavy with blossom.

Their distinctive perfume

Drifted by me, on the breeze.

The sun warmed my face.

The soft fragrant breeze

Toyed w...

Monday 19th July 2010 5:52 pm