1 reply to this topic

[georgek]

Whispering Fields..Whispering fields that bare no songs.That whistle sounds of death and gore…..Bend the wheat, with wind that shears…..Broken backs from men with tears..The rain that harshly sweeps…….As mothers cry and lovers weep…...Soak the ground as rivers bleed..For no one sees, except the trees…….The buzzards, bees and those who flee.Just like the wind that plays a tune.In skies of grey, amongst the hay.Dead men stray with scabbard knives..Their mist of grey and those who pray…..To whispering fields that count the yield.From wheat and marrow in bags and barrows,.Except for men who never hear, the wind that blows.Like the corn, with ears aglow…waiting still….Just like the wisp….the beggars wrist.All frown and torn from one more morn..To grasp the sword and then to morn.Whispering fields with skies of grey.Play your tune just one more time.So men may hear and start to fear.As prophets see and lovers dream...By George

Edited by georgek, 11 April 2012 - 03:53 AM.

[Still Waters]

It's a good poem. Have you written a lot of poems? You should post more of them if you have. I like poems