A curate to the common

By LTBurbery

Wed, 22 Jun 2011
  • 576 reads
2 comments
 

Safety from the twittering of the birds,
The curate takes refuge in his holy house,
From the heat of the day,
From the rising sun,
He prepares his breakfast,
Unknowingly healing himself.

Tonight he will dine,
Harvest men by his side,
And the earth they have tilled,
Will be cups that are filled,
They'll be merry and kind,
With spring sunset in mind,
And the seeds they have sewn,
Will be numbers unknown,
In the blood, sweat and mirth,
And the muck of the earth.

And when the breaking of bread is done,
The curate will be oblivious,
And in the drinking of wine,
Will recall in good time
And remember that twitter of birds...
Is a tune he once knew.
And the chance he denied,
Was love not a lie,
And he sighs at the loss,
As he pays up the cost,
And he breathes in fresh air,
As he's drifting nowhere.

Then the crowd rackets and roars,
Until the drinking of wine is done,
They will sit beneath oak and rest by the moon,
Yet none are as comfortable this night,
As the sleeping curate,
For the harvesters know,
That the sun is come tomorrow.

Certificate U
Poem
Spiritual

Comments

Submitted by fatboy74 on
I like this. :-)

 

Submitted by LTBurbery on
Cheers, I spent about an hour editing it which is the longest time I've ever spent on a poem. I also took it to an old mates Mums house (she writes poetry) and she suggested some minor alterations to the grammar as it didn't flow. I am still not happy with it, always changing details but I think the main idea of it has been put across, the harvesters are more in touch with the changing of the seasons and the cycle of life and the curate has much to learn from them, instead of the other way round.