Overgrown field,
hedges uncut,
rusty tractor where its engine finally stopped.
I stand arms outstretched.
No longer feared,
the birds offer no respect.
They land
then peck
at my straw hat.
My stuffing
blows aimlessly
on the breeze.
No longer do they
fly away in fear,
in me they see
a handy rest stop.
Not a warning.
I may as well stand transparent,
because it's become very apparent
that I make a lousy deterrent.
Though It's nice to have
a little company.
The farmer left years ago,
the place is overgrown.
Not the place of beauty
that the farmer
once ploughed through.
My old sweater
has seen better days,
the threads all split, tangled and frayed.
My hair a mess,
patches of mouldy hay,
and my arms ache
from standing in this way.
No purpose
now the farm
is out of service,
Neither use nor ornament
just an unemployed scarecrow.
Only standing lonely
and around me
the long grass does grow.
Thanks for reading
Please take a look at my new collection "Torn Pages"
100+ all new poems not shared here before.
https://tinyurl.com/KCtornpages
No comments:
Post a Comment