Blonde hair, shoulder length
A morning in June, one of thirty
I run my fingers through the tall grass
Picking memories like strawberries

Heart beats much faster
Like the stampede of thunder
On the horizon

In my open chest
A field of blood and moonlight
No survivors left

Thoughts run much softer
Tears stand ready in my eyes
The light of day fades

As a child I'd dream of running away,
Nigh unto winter and not too far,
From Dad’s and Mom's, where I used to play
But which was now bitten hard.
A barn in a field was just one dream,
An old one where no one ever came.
Delight by myself, attainable seemed,
Where I could rest and collect my name.
Russet woods and graying woods,
Fueled fantasy and desire,
For simple things must do some good,
In corrupt towns, soul is renewed by fire.

I was driving around, photographing scenes in October and saw this leaning, ancient barn, screened by vermilion shrubs and small trees.It brought back childhood memories of exploring strange places.
Patrick Aug 9

If you drive through
The Ohio countryside
Chances are you’ll see
A tree standing
Alone
In a grain field
Barren, the tree stands
Roots sucking a fair share from
The soil of the masses
The tree stands
Years ago a dam broke
And here,
The tree stands
Year after year
God scorches the Earth
And here,
The tree stands
And impenetrable strata
Coated the land
And here,
The tree stands
And if men worked from
Sunrise to darkness
To unroot the tree
It would stand

In a field
School kids
go to war,
In the field
Soldiers
go to work.

I want you to simplify me with your love. Like the gratitude of paddy field to rain, with which it grew rice.

I want you to simplify me with your love. Like the prayer said by grass for the soil, which gave it life and in turn, enlivens.

I want you to simplify me with your love. Like works of the sun: rising-setting, giving names to morning, noon, eve and night.

Translated to English by Gilda Sagrado

If you see a hawk
on a bough at field's edge
beyond the corner you should have turned
maybe it's a sign to go on.

Such as during an improvisation on
Flamingo or I've Got You Under My Skin
you play in the wrong key or mode completely
maybe it's a sign to go on, in the wrong key.

Or when my sons cry not wanting
to be alone, I'm upstairs writing
or just enjoying trees in every direction
it too may be a sign to go on alone.

www.ronnowpoetry.com
Kat Jun 29

She was a delicate Daisy
In a field of dangerous roses

Wejdan May 21

Sweet chubby cheeks
Small flower blossoming around
sending the love and the spring's spirit around, you smell like sun-flower
surrounded by rabbits running in their field, happily eating their carrots, and fishes swim deep in the oceans, happily swimming and greeting, kissing the pure soul of yours, I hope I get to see you again carrying you and biting those cheeks.

Zainah is my friend's niece and she is so annoying but you love her.
also! I am back on the site after a very long while.

In the stalks
I smelled the rain
Before it spilled

My temple
Blood was roaring
Fog and fantasia

The field
Shivered beneath
My uneasy steps

Supine
On the cold black ground
In the centre of it all
I watched it come

The rain fell

And it was good
To sleep and dream

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