Farm in a place, once

Compost compost piles.
Sold for a cent
Eggs to the takers
Rose for a hen.
Crop field a hindering
Push plow push plow push plow
How old is a farmer
Who is a wife.

That is the way they were.
Now without turning around
Time is and time does
A cunning
They would have liked a thousand
Ten and twenty seconds.

Weeds grow nevertheless.
Resting cow
Resting bull
Next to an old frame brick
What is a size
Pause in a mortar.

Noisy wind noisy wind a coat.
Opposite it
Opposite it
A hand in earth
A finger in a porcelain cup handle.

Both next to a hurry.
Cousin to an end
Next to a farm empty
Pinned to a shirt.

Apron on a clothesline.
Cold seams
Begging to begging to begging to

Once so great so great.
Do both believe
Weigh the pieces in aged steps
Wheel turn
A little song so very very little
Place in an empty.


29 comments on “Farm in a place, once

  1. crazywitch25 says:

    Cool. I developed a new respect for farmers after my mom was in the hospital. We all had to pitch in to keep things going. There’s no profit in it, but mom loves it. Everything I touch dies. Old farm houses are proud though. They stood for something once.

  2. Sad story of a thriving time that has come to an end the difference of then and now and how they gave eggs away not today. The house which was a home still bares the stories of the life they once lived the remains show of what it was like. simple but very harsh and hard work.

  3. Do you have some old little farms in U.S.A. as we still have in old Europe ?

  4. I grew up in the almost inaccessible remote areas of Costa Rica. I pine in nostalgia for those hard days, where just getting through a day, was so much work….yet they were the best days of my life. Your wonderful style of writing in this one, rhythm and short, visual word vignettes, honors these days now going out, on our planet…like the end of a day. Wonderful!

  5. allenrizzi says:

    That house looks an awful lot like one here in Italy – spooky!

  6. I love the line Time is and time does.

  7. Your poem speaks of the demise of the Jonathan Brown farm in Candia, New Hampshire, when none of his seven sons would have it. (Jonathan was my great-great-great grandfather.)

  8. lampmagician says:

    Reblogged this on lampmagician and commented:
    A little song so very very little
    Place in an empty. πŸ™πŸ™β€

  9. Nice ode to a farm, life as it was before….. Now sadly empty.

  10. Marta Pinhao says:

    Β‘que bello relato! gracias, abrazotes.

  11. I found this heart-wrenching, Lance. I live in a rural area of small family farms. Many farmers lurch from one season to the next, saddled with heavy debt. Too much or too little rain can result in bankruptcy and loss of a farm that may have been in the family for generations.

    • Anna, I’m very appreciative of your thoughts, you sharing a part of your life, your wonderful support, and who you are as a very gifted writer. Thank you. Blessings.

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