I’m not hooked on any flavour More enthralled by variety The simple things they taste the best And deliver, or create satiety.
There’s fresh apples off the tree Strawberries from the banking And herbs galore, couldn’t want for more For all of this I’m thanking.
Most food these days doesn’t taste of much So I opt to grow my own No chemicals are added because I value life And believe your reap what’s sewn.
Now the taste of my potatoes, well Transports me back in time When life was just and fair and slow Crammed full of flavours every day ‘til my enforced bedtime.
Task: So: this weekend, share with us a poem that you love (by someone who isn’t you, please). You can quote a particularly striking line (or two) in a new message in the Commons, or drop a link to the whole piece. Most importantly: tell us, in a sentence or two, what about it moves you.
This poem has followed me since my schooldays. I love sheep, chickens and cows. They ooze calmness and serenity and most of the time sheer contentment. Being ‘present’, ‘in the moment’ with these animals, which is how they live, rubs off on me almost instantly.
And yes, I am well practiced in communicating with them moooo!
Enjoy …
Cows, by James Reeves
Half the time they munched the grass, and all the time they lay Down in the water-meadows, the lazy month of May, A-chewing, A-mooing, To pass the hours away.
“Nice weather,” said the brown cow. “Ah,” said the white. “Grass is very tasty.” “Grass is all right.”
Half the time they munched the grass, and all the time they lay Down in the water-meadows, the lazy month of May, A-chewing, A-mooing, To pass the hours away.
“Rain coming,” said the brown cow. “Ah,” said the white. “Flies is very tiresome.” “Flies bite.”
Half the time they munched the grass, and all the time they lay Down in the water-meadows, the lazy month of May, A-chewing, A-mooing, To pass the hours away.
“Time to go,” said the brown cow. “Ah,”’ said the white. “Nice chat,” “Very pleasant.” “Night.””Night.”
Half the time they munched the grass, and all the time they lay Down in the water-meadows, the lazy month of May, A-chewing, A-mooing, To pass the hours away.
Sometimes I know that you are there, other times I do not dare acknowledge your existence. The youthful beauty we once had I didn’t value and that’s so sad now that I know different. But then that’s life, we come to know that beyond the skin our wisdom grows and even glows. As we shine through other channels unseen to those who only value surface onlooking. I am so deep that, you will never see, the extent my skin embraces me, Much more than any single sense can tell about my life, a joy or hell. But one thing that I now know and love is how I feel beneath this glove A perfect fit my closest friend, memories are ours that only we, will cherish til our end.
St Kilda Oh my dearest St Kilda I don’t know why but You draw me You lure me To visit your shores To sit in your stillness As those gone before And breathe in your beauty And link into the life That not long ago thrived
But to reach you I have To endure many hours Of pounding the Mighty Atlantic waves A feat that I cannot Just quite yet endure But one day Yes one day I’ll journey to you Of that I am sure!
St Kilda
Boreray and Stacs in choppy Atlantic Ocean (Photograph by Rohan Holt)
Land of Images 