WFSC Creative Writing Facilitators Mike Deregowski and Kelsey Hoople challenge you to participate in national poetry month. 1 poem per day for 30 days with no working ahead. 😉
Overall theme 'The Great Escape'.
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Day 20 | April 20th | Raised by the Land
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Raised by the Land
He grew up in the farm
but ran away
city has greener pastures
but heart broken and flat broke
greed and anger
drew him to drink
drew him to madness and violence
went back to the Land
where found peace and joy
fruits of his labour and dirt
Thieves saw the abundance
his pure heart and hard work
his redemption and genuine repentance
the Land bestowed and gifted him
pure joy and peace
Darkness envelopes the thieves
and came to steal, and destroy
killed violently like a wolf possessed
and then he is alone and gone
without fight and any chance of survival
the Land weeped
the Land wailed
the people came lined up
he's taken…
20. Raised by the Land
We look to them for guidance
Their stories hold us spellbound
Though some extremes we question
Still they always hold their ground.
We study history while learning
Read how things were done in books
Yet sharing this with those who lived it
Gets us quizzical looks…
“Back in my day, we did it thus,
No time to sit and muse.
By harvest time the day consumed
Reading would not excuse.”
“I was barely out of diapers,
Long days I toiled no matter what
No TV, phone, video distract
Yet busy to evening from sun-up.”
The exaggerations – see what I mean
Child labor appeared out of hand
They would laugh and give a wink
That…
Raised by the Land
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Time began, such a simple thing,
It amazes you with what you remember;
That leaf, fluttering in the wind, the water roaring
So close below; you give to it such surrender,
To become a part of something so whole.
But have you lost yourself, you ask,
In giving yourself, so full,
To a beauty that lays beyond the mask?
You see this tree, its bark stained by the rain
Of centuries-old-seasons-past,
Look closely now, the lines in its bark a map of pain
And scars of those times long gone to repast.
Why does it matter, you ask, to look and wonder
At these things long-gone-and-dead?
Your fingers find the old mulch, as you plunder,
Raised by The Land
The innocuous seed, alone on a road
Takes flight in the whorl of a gust.
Sets down on the crust of a razed forest floor
As if beckoned by one who sees much.
Time has a way of healing burnt wounds
In conjunction with nature’s fine touch.
Watch! As the green of new life pushes past all the black
To keep a promise, we’ve all come to trust.
Lana O’Neill
April 20, 2020
Raised by the Land
Milk from our own cows
Grains for fresh bread, smells filled the house
That’s how we lived
No apologies, nothing to forgive
Cows, pigs, and Chickens
Some say they’re finger lickin’
Fruits to be picked by hand
And vegetables grown from the land
Everything we need
Could be grown from seed
Raised from birth
And plucked from the earth
As I grew,
I followed that life, too
Built a greenhouse for my vice
A 420 member’s paradise
Fed by the sweat of my brow
To live another way, wouldn’t know how
Now, too, I get high by my own hand
That’s what you do when you’re raised by the land
©April 20, 2020
J.E. McKnight