Monday, May 22, 2006

Classic CS5M: The Haywain

I ride the haywain
The river, cools the iron wheels
The rooks in woodland on the other shore
Caw and take to their heels.
(I know wings wouldn’t rhyme).

I ride the haywain
Behind the great horses
Their ears twitch at the touch of a summer fly
Sky clouds furl in their courses
(I know clouds must be in the sky).

I ride the haywain
In the hay with you later
The horses in their barn take oats with their hay
May’s on its way
(I know oats are risque).

I ride the haywain
Empty of its gold sheaves,
hard wood below me, end of a summer day
Dreaming of cider, and you, and of summer leaves
(Is it just a wain when it’s out of hay?).

I ride the haywain
Later in dreams on a summer night
Were the hay is the colour of your limbs
And it caresses, not prickles, and turns to light,
(I mean golden not pink, rework that get it right.)

I ride the haywain
Writing poems like this in my head
Should have watched where the horses were going instead
Back in the river they trample and stamp
And the floor of the haywain gets damp
What will the farmer say, at the end of a summer day?
What will you say, with no poem to sweep you away?
To persuade you to join me in clover if not in hay.
Have to spend all my farm hand’s pay.
(At the end of a poet’s day)

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