#countryside poems on Hello Poetry

SpiralDancer May 2020

The Hunt

If you go down
in the woods
today

Dont go alone
Dont go alone
Better stay home today

Dont expect them to play fair
It's criminally legal

If there's a hunter
then there is hunted

If you go down
in the woods
today

Stay on the path
Stay on the path
It's best to stay home today

You dont stand a chance
run as fast as you can
You wont see
the end of the day

If you go down
in the woods
today

Cover your ears
look straight ahead
Better stay home today

Living in the countryside is lovely, until you see the hunt...

#woods #hunting #animals #countryside #wildlife #fox #deer #rabbit

Phantom Poet Mar 2020

Dutch countryside

I am in Netherlands,
Through my university course,
Has allowed me to travel across the lands,
Of the beautiful Europe,
Me and a friend have come to lend a hand,
To farmers for voluntary work,
Which is also a school on the farmland,
For kids who can't achieve the mark,
Who can't study in the normal system,
I am in the pure countryside,
And it is beautiful and majestic,
There are fields wide,
Long clean canals blue,
It is a beautiful sight,
I cycle looking at this view,
The sun shining golden bright,
The wind blowing past you,
The dim villages at night,
It feels nice to be away,
Away from the fright,
This is what I like,
This is,
The Dutch countryside

Hello, it has been 2 years since I have been on here, and been on a terrible path, I am writing again, to become normal and get my life together

#dutch #countryside #netherlands

taylor Feb 2020

Broken Hearts Club

Greenleigh:

Rounding your cottage side,
There you were, bundles tied,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,
What plan were for the blooms?
In the kitchen rose fumes,
You truly  hoped for a tryst,
Wine love potion cauldron,
Boiled in my drink to stun,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed.

Haven:

My beauteous neighbor,
I submit to ardor,
All in obscure struggles midst,
I see your distant gaze,
But you I try to faze,
You were all to me exist,
“I will beckon at noon,
In this hot summer June,”
All in obscure struggles midst.

  Greenleigh:

But as I spy, I think,
Then discreetly slink,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,
I culled my own blossoms,
His allures my thraldoms,
I truly hoped for a tryst,
To you a bit of remorse,
Yet my heart waxed full force,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,

I catch the way you stare,
I will avoid our affair,
All in obscure struggles midst,
Supplanted your fetters,
Entreaty, scrawled letters,
He were all to me exist,
I thought to meet halfway,
Might I be led astray,
All in obscure struggles midst,

  Wyn:

And I received her word,
Intended a detour,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,
Read the book of magic,
My love to you chronic,
I truly  hoped for a tryst,
Donned my riding garments,
Leas, with my assortments,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,

Her eyes, you I outshone,
Heedless to her writ tone,
All in obscure struggles midst,
Fancied your ivor teeth,
Smooth skin, your clothes ‘neath.
You were all to me exist,
In daydreams I drifted,
Blunders, I self chided,
All in obscure struggles midst,

  Greenleigh:

Shocked when I saw him trot!
With grasp I became fraught,
All in obscure struggles midst,
He visits you, not me,
Deceit deserved, yet plea!
You were all to me exist,
Could not look in his eye,
Yet utter not goodbye,
All in obscure struggles midst,

Haven:

“Neighbor, wrong I done ye!”
I watch only blankly,
All in obscure struggles midst,
Her twisted mouth distressed,
No one thought we were blessed,
You were all to me exist,
I mumbled, brimming tears,
Should have asked direct, fears,
All in obscure struggles midst,

He was the fool of fate,
Confused yet did await,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,
I vied for your full love,
As you to his yet shove,
I only hoped for a tryst,
Rapt in misconceptions,
Mocked us, even aspens,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,

All:

Yet not so sly were we,
Does cognizance come bleak,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,
We greeted happenchance,
What’s left but insistence?
Our furtive attempts yet missed,
Admit not errs, turn rightwards,
Fracturing our concords,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,

  Greenleigh:

Anxiously sipped bottles,
And did we start battles,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,
Suffused eyes, flushed faces,
Affects spill, anguishes,
Our furtive attempts yet missed,
We die lone in shambles,
Bonds of love in scrambles,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed.

#romancee #love #triangle #countryside

Wieslaw Musialowski Dec 2019

A recipe

Translated by Przemyslaw Musialowski 12/2/2019

I miss these people: simple and direct,
the green and blue open gate of the lowlands,
the majesty of generations, a real chamber,
conversations around the table, what's new in the village:
that Johnny is doing well, that he was lucky,
even though he has never been a top student in geography,
that Mary has a husband who loves and respects her,
for he knows that you shouldn't judge a book by its cover,
that a kind heart is a real treasure.
It should be taught at home from an early age
that there's a place above the door where Christ on a wooden cross
is waiting suffering, patient - he doesn't complain
that every day he has to see that it's not easy here
- everyone shall get as much as in the will
all deeds weigh on the scale, and the clock
counts the days and hours and works evenly:
sometimes he would like to slow down the heart of the machinery,
but the big hand is constantly urging the small one
oh, how can a whole comprise in one life,
can you excuse yourself, divide into smaller pieces?
- you need to be a human and to be cheerful in your life.

Wieslaw Musialowski 08/12/2017

#country #countryside #life #happiness #living #recipe #for #happy

Wieslaw Musialowski Nov 2019

A wish

Translated by Przemyslaw Musialowski 11/2/2019

Paint me such a village in the valley,
sad with dark green firs and cheerful with crops...
Let she all in red rowanberries be,
and let gray linen lay on her meadows;
let colorful rainbows throw themselves across the silent pond,
dispersed by air that spurts out of the waters deep.
Let the cloud of pigeons flutter overhead,
and dandelions' soft fluff and spiders' silk threads...

And paint pastures and fertile fields,
and in their black soil let wheat and barley shine with gold,
and let fiery red of poppies ridges beautifully adorn,
and poplars over the road make into a string,
and throw the silvery mist on the meadows...

And let they walk so, loudly, through the field
heifers' bells and clapping of whips.
Let the willows ponder by the murmuring stream,
casting shadow pre-sunset and long,
and quiet calming blue give around,
and fill the air with birds' happy babbling.
And put such a cloud on the mountains' brow...
And only people make ours, so dear to my heart.

Maria Konopnicka (1842-1910)

* The original name of the poem is "In a foreign land", as
the poem was written in Karlsbad in Germany.

Maria Konopnicka's funeral in Lviv was attended by almost 50,000 people, and to this day this great poet has her own and special place in the hearts of ordinary Polish people.

Konopnicka's poetry has a pinch of Hans Christian Andersen's magic and warmth, and this warmth and magic is not lost in free-verse translation.

Enjoy!

#imagery #nature #country #countryside #homeland #homesick #beautiful #beauty

Merry Oct 2019

Bush Poet

I’m just a postmodern bush poet
Roaming and roving rusty roads
Writing, wordsmithing, amid yellow grass
Fondling the various ******* of Mother Nature
The hills and mountains, all her nooks and crannies
Looking at peeled potato sheeps
Dreaming about what great stews they would make
Listening to a bit of AC/DC
With no wuckin’ furries
Getting eyed by work dogs
With no sense of self-preservation
Telling me I’m going to die all the same
As those rotting roos lying in the dirt
Sodomised by cars just like mine
Their pink, esoteric entrails getting pecked out
By the crows I call my friends

#gore #mortality #australia #countryside #bushpoetry #postmodern #acdc

Wieslaw Musialowski Oct 2019

Scarecrow

Translated by Przemyslaw Musialowski 10/7/2019

O scarecrow, dressed elegantly
- in worn-out shoes, ragged old hat,
on which black crow sits in dignity
and stares off into this distance where forest sad

- you certainly dream about traveling
into these wheat fields, grasses adorned with flowers
that you could lose your scarecrow's soul
running happily towards the horizon...

But you stand here, alas, forever lost in thoughts,
unable to understand where the restriction comes from,
with your straw heart always split
between both powerlessness and want.

Funny thing, my dear scarecrow - to have
so much on your own and not to.

Przemyslaw Musialowski 10/01/2008

Only poems that I've ever tried to write myself come from a time when I was 22 or 23 years old and there are only a few of them. Enjoy!

#scarecrow #countryside #country #imagery #nature #want #desire #restriction

JS CARIE Oct 2019

Little Nashville (Indiana)

As the crow flies south from capital city
With soaring moonshine he coasts into synchronicity
Highways below dissolve into forgotten whispers
Like a rear view mirror sees only memories in its disappearing

Visual ****** initiates and fills this polychromatic cruise
Starting with a quiet historic ruse
Contesting over which of the two
echo shadows for optical repeal

the many leaves of kaleidoscope hues
That keep a running legacy since time before our time
and / or
Buried horizon from endless layers of skyward hills
Hills that have been storing a primitive foundation for the growing of substructure foliage in order to be able to drop its petals and leaves

Resolve is left with the one true and unbiased impartial decider...
the wind
to form a fair measure of mediation

From the human view
All are merely a preview for the impromptu quest
In an attempt to catalyze foreshadow and paint memory for the drive out west

To approach from afar
The destination appears to be a resting
shape of an antiquated location

splashed with opaque aromas,

sensory weaving visuals,

and

Melodic tones of nostalgic definition

Emitting vibrations of soothing tremolo that quiver throughout the body

this multi-strip string of singular select shops
Is the alignment initiative in the countryside
forecasting a manifest
for the hazy occasion
Anointing inspiration over the heartland’s artland
That nearly only hope,
could create

Invisible snows sprinkle over roads like a magic red carpet of threaded tranquility in its coat
Enticing, Welcoming, and Lighting up this neck of the west
And opening into the
Woodland Hills of Little Nashville

———-—————————————-——————————

#indiana #nashville #countryside #browncounty #heartland #artland