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| Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 02-June 18:08:46 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 185032
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => The old girl in the paddock
[time] => 2018-04-14 07:46:45
[hometext] => I have been working on this poem for a few weeks. I am still not happy with it but thought i would put it up for others to read and see if you can Identify where it does not work. I cannot pick it but something does not feel right about it. All opinions a
[bodytext] => I went for a walk, early one morn, moist dew on the ground, white frost on the lawn. I ventured up a trail, hadn/'/t seen it before, t/'/was calling to me, this trail, to explore. I followed this track, not knowing where it lead, then to my surprise, I saw a meadow ahead. I saw on the far side, under a gnarled old fig a Massey Ferguson tractor, I decided to check this rig. I had walked for a while and so wanted to rest. So I crossed the damp meadow as she loomed ahead. When I got over there she looked so sad and forlorn. I suddenly felt weary and then I stifled a yawn. It felt a bit strange, as if I was being watched. I searched the bush around me, there was nothing there but scrub. I drifted off into drowsy sleep and then awoke to my surprise . For a spell had been cast over me, and this tractor spoke to my mind. In her angelic and lifting voice, she whispered softly to me, ‘I want to say thanks dear Sir, for are visiting this place, you see”. She continues to talk, telling off her life, and how she was strong and was her owners delight. She remembered her first time, dragging harrows through the dirt as the old draught horses stood ,their eyes sad and hurt How proud she did feel, on that first day How her engine did roar as she leapt away, the old Farmer, she remembered and how special she felt As she harvested wheat on that fine Golden Belt, So very young and strong, her paint job was brand new,. Her tyres, they were shiny black, from bright headlights, light did spew. Year by Year, she worked with her boss. Her engine never once stalled. She remember him showing off to his mates, they all stood there enthralled then one day as she was working, looking old but still going strong. She saw a truck pull up near the ramp, her successor had come along the truck you see carried a shiny, new Tractor, she knew her time was to end She knew then she was being replaced, she hated this replacement trend Her successor had come along you see, It broke her heart that day, when the old farmer pulled her up near the truck and said to her, “My dear, t’is your final day” at first she never understood, for she was faithful and true, but soon it began to dawn on her, her replacement was shiny and blue. T/'/was about that time she said, Those old horses she had seen, the look of pain and remorse in their eyes and now she felt akin. For she had replace those old horse, and taken his job away. She was too young to see it then, To see it was their final day But now that her last day had come, she felt their pain, the same. My emotions they ran wildly as tears streamed from my eyes, she continued on with her tale, about her passing demise. She said the farmer looked happy, t’was proud of his new blue boy. She there was a sting, a pain in heart, as her life was stripped of its joy. That evening the old farmer, he came to her once again, he said that she could rest now, no more the harsh pulling strain. She said tried to tell him, tried to make his see, tried to tell him how she felt, as he drove her through the tree’s. He parked then on this spot, out in this wooded field. Discarding her to decay and rot, red rust forming on her steel. She told me she can/'/t remember, how long ago that was, she had given up all hope for life, until I had come across. I promised her, then and there, her life would be renewed. I would take her home with me and I pondered on that move. That itself, was many years past, now she sits and waits, for the next vintage tractor day, when she can visit her old mates. She tells them of her life and triumphs, keeps the mesmerised. And never fails to tell them, I was her saviour from Demise. Copyright Terence West 2018 [comments] => 6 [counter] => 210 [topic] => 43 [informant] => Redwest802 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
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