"rapeseed" poems
The bleating of the newborn lambs
As they prance about the fields
Yellow of the rapeseed
Prepare for summers yield
Birds twitter on every bough
While making up their nests
Tapping of the woodpecker
Pointed beak and coloured crest
Gone the snowdrops and daffodils
Now bluebells carpet the floor
Wild garlic with its pungent smell
You may dislike or adore
Seasons change so quickly
As time passes on its way
No beauty can compare
To nature day by day
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 11:25 AM UTC
A personable person propogated passion
Beneath my heavy heart
Alas, cried the caterpillar
You are not dead!
Though I have spent hours molesting your windowsill
Rapeseed!
Huckleberry!
Gingerbread Pie!
All these things and more have I maliciously misunderstood
But the lies of the soothsayer are frequently true
They are passionate pomegranates from me to you
The obelisks of oppression overpower your heartstrings
And there's nothing you can do
My villain!
My thief!
The princess of my misery!
The fiery orb and the blasphemous pirates!
Staring at your shoulders I see only my reflection
Turning on your heel my eyelids sparkle and linger at your doorstep
It's Goliath's head
Salmon and bread
Those deathly ideas which you purposely said
Tic tac guru
Just what is he to you?
And which of my words have you read?
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 6:24 PM UTC
Butterflies...across my face
Is what you said my words were to you
Wings of brown drifting
across two pools of ice blue
Slender fingers laced with red
Outstretched across the bed
And yet there was a pause
a sudden close of doors
Keys clattered and locks shut
A yes, a no,a sighed but...
Hawthorn high and bluebells droop
The morning star, the endless loop
My mouth formed the shape
and you fell out soft vowel
Mine a consonant, low like an owl
Flash of blue, rapeseed gold
A white lace flower
A secret to hold.
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 6:46 PM UTC
I woke to a soft morning light
filtered through my pink curtains
and the neighbor’s heater vibrating in my ear
And through my window
saw snowflakes carefree dancing
in a radiant and romantic rapeseed field
Warmed by the scent of brewing coffee
and lovely thoughts of you
This magical sea of yellow
adorned by tiny lacy flurries
Let me forget the freezings that I’ve felt
and the dimness that I’ve seen
Apr 1, 2020
Apr 1, 2020 at 9:38 AM UTC
we had potential,
-kx, and with respect to
x, **** you.
we could've been
a masterwork,
Fields of Rapeseed, 1883, painted
in Prague, oil on
canvas.
but no,
you had to be
Mr. ******* Fantastic,
stretching yourself thin and
stretching my patience
again and again like
so much taffy to be made
palatable.
I have always been
difficult to stomach, even
at the best of times,
and you thought you could be the
Zeus to my Europa, whisk me
away and act like it'd all be okay.
but you didn't understand,
I was Europa, but
not the myth, the moon,
and I desired nothing more than to
drag you into my orbit and
drag you down to your demise.
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 9:17 PM UTC
I will go back to that silent evening;
the night a silver haze.
Thick with the smell of rapeseed
and there we stood together.
I will go back to that silent hill,
the valley rolling out below us.
The moon casts about these
shadows; violet upon the track.
I will go back to that silent place
deep inside my chest.
On mid-summers eve we watched
almost all the night pass by.
I will go back to that silent room;
we both know what came next.
All the blossom on the ground,
and grass stains on our clothes.
I will go back to that silent evening
and not know the people there.
These strangers in my memory
embraced mid-summers night.
Mar 7, 2012
Mar 7, 2012 at 9:39 AM UTC
cotton clouds formed in such sky as frost shivered me so
fingers chilled to warmth not met
biting in the cold
ground so hard no flower formed
bring me summer bring me warm
smell of grass so freshly cut
can see a summer coming
golden fields full the oil ..rapeseed sneeze a tissue feel
hear young voices playing out
screams of water splashed out loud
bring me summer where smiles do form
eating ice cream on ones lawn
rays of sun do burn my back
sleepy me ...to skin pealed back
bring me summer as i freeze
throw this coldest oh yes please
soon be there not long to go
summer feeling ...no more snow
Jan 15, 2012
Jan 15, 2012 at 6:40 AM UTC
so much time spent in forests
maybe it was natural to want these plains
of wheat, barley, rapeseed, concrete,
but then, we build cities
—we’re forest people still
after the cedar, the oak
after the oak, the pine,
after the pine, the palm, the kapok…
we’re good at turning things into names;
at coding the world, then remaking it:
we can cut an entire forest of kauri
into the image of San Francisco
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 7:47 AM UTC
Brought a scent.
Calliope and rapeseed;
a choir inhaled
and then
indeed
Expelled!
(your blessing)
Bitte!
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 12:59 AM UTC
I'm sitting on a wooden bench, atop a hill, facing acres of nature's finest. A hundred metres to my left is a paved road, and other signs of human interruption are scattered around in my field of view.
Despite this however, despite the destruction I know tarmac and paths and civilisation to cause, the scape was dominated by sky and trees and fields; the blue of air, the green of pine, and yellow of rapeseed.
Found litter in hand, and songs from the wood in my ear (both literally the Jethro Tull album and figuratively the birds through the creaking of trees), I realise that here at least there is balance. We as a species believe that we wield so much power over the rest of the earth, and count as evidence the cities we've built that flatten anything that lived their previously. But we are nothing new, when landslides and hurricanes, floods and earthquakes do just the same. We may be a natural disaster in many places but we are still natural.
And nature does not break, it only bends. Everything is assimilated; growing up around the fences are new walls of sweet-smelling gorse and pine. Ivy twists up towers and cement cracks to make way for persistent weeds that conquer through tenacity mankind's best attempts at order.
We have never sat on the throne of Earth, this is not our kingdom, but a niche into which we have been able to nestle ourselves, between the plants and animals which tolerate us as a nuisance but not one that is ultimately devastating.
A thousand years from now the tall turbines in the distance and the marking paint in the forest beside me will be gone, but the wind and the trees on which they rely will be unchanged. There lies the true power on Earth.
May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 3:25 PM UTC
Like the green falls for
The yellow fields
Of blooming rapeseed
Don't be afraid
To follow this dirt road
That winds through
The forest of all my past deceptions
You'll be safe
I want you to find my heart
May 4, 2017
May 4, 2017 at 1:27 PM UTC
I wish people could see the world as I see it right now.
Bleak British fog and thundering rain grazes
The bus windows, as we enter the seventh hour.
Ryan Adams is singing Sylvia Plath, as rapeseed fields
Threaten to bring colour to the north. The pills are
Working, and I’d cry for joy or for poverty if I could.
This isn’t the spring I was promised, but that’s okay.
I have learned that a promise is but a sincere lie,
And expectation can only offer far-off feelings and
No time. I’ve stopped throttling the goose to demand
My supper. I have stopped walking through the rain
And complaining about the weather.
It is time to start living.
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 7:03 AM UTC
Seated in a car with the windows slightly down
my father was hidden behind a mask, you could hardly see his face
we drove past the bright rapeseed fields
and I smiled as the smell of cows gently carresed my skin
like it always used to, spring evening
Sweet despair was in the air
came as quickly as the sun set down
will fade away when the first rays hit
but far away will still be felt
like it always does, spring evening
Years go by and my mind gets tired
life did look different those 10 years back but my dads voice sounded the same
as today, a warmth of the fireplace
like I used to feel, spring evening
Seems like a good time, to cease it
make it a happy ending, peaceful sky
could never feel this close to being a child, a child again
like I never thought I could, spring evening
Apr 21, 2020
Apr 21, 2020 at 4:41 AM UTC