PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Today I've walked again

the furrowed fields of home

long lines of rich brown earth

and my Daddy's waving rows

of golden corn

Long rows of growing black eye peas

and red tomatoes on the vine

okra in a patch, almost ready beets

and in a few more more days, will be their

gathering time

purple egg plants growing in a long

straight row

lettuce, greeo onions, and white

potatoe's

all starting now to grow

And now our summer days will soon

be bright

with my Momma's home cooked meals

of such delight

yellow squash and long lines of fresh

green beans

peaches and oranges on a tree

asparagus and broccoli that Mom

so nicely creams

Cabbages and carrots all grown now and

gathered into bins

sweet potatoes, red peppers and cucumbers

all bounty which our loving God doth send

Strawberries and rich water melon

growing by the pond

sheltered from the blazing sun

by wild palmetto fronds

Turnips and those old boiled collard greens

a hoe cake of Mom's home made

corn bread

oh, it is a feast from heaven, so it seems

Fried chicken and mile high biscuits

on a Sunday feast

pork roasts with rich cream gravy, baked

hams and home made rolls, that Momma made with yeast

And at the end of meals, a fresh coconut cake

or sweet potato pie, peach cobbler or

bread puddings

and for just one taste I'd surely die

I walked again today on those old

brown fields of home

just left now to gather weeds

so lonely and forlorn

Oh how I remember my Daddy's fields of

 treats, and how a skinny girl of

twelve, back then with a hungry stomach

it did greet

I can see great fields of growing grass

and white faced cattle

grazing, I hear the blue bird sing, and the old

black sow with her piglets in the pen

just lazing

Now once again I sit beneath the shady

branches of an old moss hung tree and

to feel again the warm sun upon my

face and arms and to hear the buzzing

of the honey bee

But I think, t'was sometimes lonely living on

these fields of warm brown sod, given to my Daddy

from hard work and from those mighty, awesome hands

of God

I still hear the hens down in the coop

for they cackle as they lay their warm

brown eggs , and in the stables is the mother cow

and her new born calf

standing steadily now upon it's

wobbly legs

Oh, our little home was warm and small and

snug, and t'was filled with love and old family

pictures on the wall, and Mom's home made braided

scatter rugs

And again I see my Daddy in is old blue

faded chambrey shirt and twice patched

over alls and my Mom in her starched and ironed

aprons so clean and white, and in my  memories I relive

again those sunny days so clear and bright