Sunday, April 12, 2009

CXXXXVIII - The Farmer's Daughter

This particular form is called a Terzanelle; I tried one once before.

The Farmer’s Daughter.

With patience few can understand
She does her time upon the farm
And waits her chance to work the land.

Working hard through storm and calm,
Even though she’s not a son,
She does her time upon the farm.

In her, the next harvest has begun.
She has a passion for the soil
Even though she’s not a son.

She works with love where others toil.
It’s clear to all who see her face,
She has a passion for the soil.

In her mind, the plan’s in place.
She knows the things that’s needing done;
It’s clear to all who see her face

Her destiny lies beneath the sun.
With patience few can understand,
She knows the things that’s needing done
And waits her chance to work the land.

© J Cosmo Newbery
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  1. Very nice. I like working in forms I haven't tried often

  2. An unusual style. Are you going to tell her you wrote it?

  3. Welcome back. Looking forward to reading more.

  4. well, her hand working at the soil
    And I hope this not too alarming
    but those were sheep clips, sharpened and oiled.

    She'll be needing hoe for to toil
    and a plow for the farming
    and basket to pull the harvest in, and don't forget, the taters boiled.

  5. I like this form. It has a nice rhythm to it.

  6. Great poem j cosmo written with an insight that few could understand, the challenges for country girls in this harsh, unforgiving land of ours.
    These daughters work very hard, as good as any son, if not better. ♡

    Happy Easter my friend! ♡

  7. Brilliant and beautiful. Encore!

  8. Your words draw us towards the girl....naturally appealing.

  9. this is a lovely tribute to the women who have a passion for their land.......

  10. I don't think I could be a farm girl. Hard labor's never been my thing. :)
    Loved the poem, though. Glad to see you back!

  11. ( .)( .)

    The first Wild Zinnias have come to the yard!

    See ex ex ex ex vee eye eye eye
    A Hundred fourty eight, my my my.
    A little off, I'de say. A bit shy.
    A hundred fifty, though, is good. Aye?
    Well, mate, it's hard though I know you'll try.

    Will you permit a question to cry?
    Sea ex ex ex ex vee eye eye eye
    eye or sea ex ex ex ex eye ex
    (which would start me on a brand new text)

  13. (well, I always did like the Beatles...)


  14. I like this form - and can see the difficulty of accomplishing it - and the pleasure of doing so -and of reading this work.


  15. well, some say I got the patience of a fisherman, mate.
    I just know you won't leave us hanging at a hundred fourty eight.
    But, if'n you did, it would still be worth the wait...
    Kind'a reminds me of my times with my third wife, Kate.

    She was fine, she was devine, she was forever and a day mine
    And so sweet, quite petite, and cleaning, always kept things neat.
    But then one day, she ran away, with a young feller she had her way
    now I'm alone, just me and m'bone, but ever once and a while she comes home....
    and fixes me up. With just a little.
    (she always did like to fiddle)

    So we play till dawn, out on the lawn, till the neighbors all wisht we was gone.
    And we laugh, and laugh and laugh, and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh,

    And I play my bone, and she plays her fiddle,
    and sometimes we meet somewhere in the middle
    and when the Sun comes up she leaves again,
    She tries to get out before gettin' caught up by the rain.
    Just like that, away she goes, before I get her lovely scent out of my nose,
    But it's okay, cause as they say, absence makes the heart want to go outside and play....
    So, it's OK, mate.
    We can do the wait.
    But every once and a while, I'll just stop by and remind you of the date....

    (dang me and that Walking on Alligators song writing! But, it's fun, anyway)

    (And, look! No limericks!)

  16. (of course, no rhyme, either sometime,
    no rhythm no algebra or even fancy algorithm.
    And gosh, while I'm at it no content
    no subject to speak of, and probably no intent.
    Just some nothings to not fill your life thinking,
    'Cause you're plenty smart enough, I'de say, and yet you just keep on learning...)


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Take your time, look around,
There is lots to see.