A Yokel's Lament

The folks up at the big house
have rooms enough to spare.
They hold enormous parties,
the gentlefolk in there.

Their guests arrive from far and near,
and rooms get full to bursting...
while every common lass and lad
dreams of such revels, thirsting

for a taste of carefree life.
For seldom may we sing or dance,
intent upon enjoyment,
and as for feasting...well, fat chance!

What is a farm boy meant to do,
but doff his cap... and dream anew?

Written for Mag 119, and inspired by Tess and Edward Hopper.

Morning, M'am!

I once took on a summer job
(you could never call me snob)
driving round an ASDA van
as weekly shop delivery man,
carrying groceries to the door
of ladies, both the rich and poor.

Old Mrs Jones from forty three
never asked me in for tea,
but Mrs Jones' bonny maid
always gave me  lemonade!


This 55 was written in anticipation of the day when G-Man resumes normal service. Best wishes for a speedy recover, Sir!

And today, by popular request, the bonny maid is on view HERE , together with another 55.

A combination of two prompts...

...from  IGWRT and Mag #116, set me thinking, and here's the result - a poem in Florette form.

Photo by R A.D Stainforth

I lie dreaming by the river,
hearing random ripples shiver…
I feel her spirit in my mind,
whose tempting words, loving and kind
                                                 call me hither.

“Brother, follow me” she’s saying
“and together we’ll go straying
far beyond the realms of sorrow
to a make believe tomorrow
                                       where joy’s playing.

“ Sister”, I reply with sadness
“to leave our chosen path is madness.
I know that many moons must turn
before, together, we may learn
                                               true gladness.”