03/05/2015

#poem #poetry #amwriting sketchbook idyl

idyl

the money went south 'neath the harrow
and the plough leaving the marrow
exposed and raw - in the jagged
broken windows the ragged mills
starkly box this world of dust
their machines ripped out or left
to rust - like the lives long lost
licking the bobbin for to thread

let us sing and clap our hands
to the piano sweetly played
in the sun shafted room
with the high arched windows

the money went south 'neath the harrow
and the book leaving the poor wanting
for more of the peace of the abbey
and the work of the field
on the hanging bodies in the wood
the crows grew fat beadling
the hungry and orphaned

let us sing and clap our hands
in time to the song
in the sun shafted room
with coloured windows

the money came north plumed in steam
dragging the trade from the craftsman's
hand uprooting the cottager
from the fireside chat into the red brick
back to back

etc

The Blue Book