Tag Farming

Promise of Rain

freyathewriter 23 Comments 
He sows fine seeds upon the earth
But no wheat grows, there is a dearth
Of rainfall

The sun beats down upon his field
The soil bakes hard, there is no yield
Still rainless

He hopes for wind and begs for clouds
He whispers soft, he prays aloud
for raindrops

He lies prostrate, drowning in fears
A ghostly form cries saltless tears
The rainsprite

Showers and sunlight join as one
The heavens shimmer, having fun
A rainbow

It’s Meeting the Bar time over at dVerse Poets Pub, and Laura, our congenial host, has asked us to create a Compound Word Verse of five stanzas, three lines in each, with the syllable format 8/8/3 and rhyming pattern a/a/b. The final line must end with the required compound word that begins, or ends, with the stem word.

Limitation can often create freedom as our poetic and creative minds no longer need to expand into the freedom of the form, but in the story itself. I had no idea I was going to write a poem about a farmer desperate for rain – although given the drought and constant high temperatures we have had in Europe, this probably isn’t surprising.

If you fancy trying your hand at this Compound Word Verse form, why not join us? It’s fun, creative and you can read lots of other contributors’ poems into the bargain!

Home Fires – SoCS June 11/16

freyathewriter 8 Comments

Vintage_Roberts_Portable_Transistor_Radio,_Model_R500,_Multi-Band_-_MW-LW-SW,_7_Transistors,_Made_In_Great_Britain,_Circa_1963_(13223583534)

Reconnecting with times gone by, my growing up years, the comforting rhythm of a warm and welcoming family home, the transistor radio on the kitchen table providing a constant, mellow-voiced background to my life, my parents, my sister and brother.

I listen now, some voices familiar, some new, the rhythm of their families entwined with mine. Rolling countryside, lives dictated by sowing crops, milking cattle, harvesting when the weather dictates. I can see, in my mind’s eye, the sun, the rain, the laughter, the tears, as if they were mine.

It feels like coming home, this fictitious place, this Ambridge. Fifteen minutes a day, six days a week, the longest running drama in history. It’s been a part of my life for decades. Thank you, Radio 4, for reminding me of home.

Here’s my entry into the lovely Linda’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday, where this week she invites us to write anything including a word using the letters ‘mb’. I was listening to The Archers on BBC Radio’s iPlayer when I saw her prompt and it just seemed to fit. For those of you outside the UK, The Archers, a radio drama, has been running since 1950 and the first producer, who had originally worked on agricultural programmes, hoped that farmers in particular would pick up ideas on how to feed a country that was still subject to food rationing post World War Two. It continued with this heavy emphasis on education until the early 1970s, when the drama began to take precedence. Personally speaking, I still learn a lot from it, and I can hear the echo of farming news in the storylines (Radio 4 also produces Farming Today at the crack of dawn, and many of the issues discussed in  this news programme are reflected in The Archers over time).

The Archers has a loyal fan base, of all ages. There is a blog here, if you are interested, and the lovely Stephen Fry has an introduction to what it’s about here.

Anyway, thank you to  Linda for hosting this prompt again this week. Do hop on over to her blog to read all the other entries – they are guaranteed to be extremely varied!