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*****


From a hilltop view, i can clearly see

The long and the winding dogs' old river

And along the skyline, liying to infinity

Layers of Autumn's mist, as odd as ever
*****



And on the side of that far hilly land

Carmin roofs stuck firmly, to its flank

From their chimneys, every now and then

Whirling airy smokes, high up ascend
*****



Archaic wood stoves still firmly exist

In a modern drift, even, they still resist

But what could a poet be inspired, if not

Such closely vintage tools, were then lost
*****



A piece of the godlen past, awakes a breath

Renews the out-worn threads, of olden wealth

Hardly could we get a lost memory back

Like a long date friend, we painfully lack
*****



Behind that mighty mountain, lie vast meadows

Wheat, barley and idle landscapes of furrows

Varied species of wild critters, live by the trees

The pine forest still, breathing its nectar breeze
*****


Those archaic stone houses against tender verdure

Were built when man, used to live in clean pasture

With his flock ahead, the shepherd was the artist

The maestro of his sheep, composer and flutist
*****




By poetsword

© 2019 poetsword (All rights reserved)

 

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This Poem is part of a Challenge: - The JUST FOR THE LOVE OF IT Challenge-read page for rules and info (challenge has been closed)


This Poem is part of a Challenge: - The JUST FOR THE LOVE OF IT Challenge-read page for rules and info (challenge has been closed)


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