| CATEGORY: Poetry |
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Grampa's Rundown Barn
I remember Grampa's barn, the red paint on the sides.
Stale dry hay up in the loft, was my favorite place to hide.
I remember the dirt smell, and the dust stirred in the air.
But that's when I was younger, and I didn't have a care.
That's where our friends would gather, to hang out and some played cards.
My uncle Don would work there, when it rained out in the yard.
We found some baby kittens, and we nursed them in that barn.
And some calves were birthed there too, that's what happens on a farm.
Owls nested up in the joists, you could hear them there at night.
Mom made us clean our fish there, when we got more then a bite.
Sometimes a skunk would come in, and we would clear out the way.
Don't mess with a smelly cat, the price is too much to pay.
Cows and horses would eat there, in the winter while it's cold.
Now the paint is gone away, It's faded because it's old.
My Grampa's dead and gone now, and my Gramma she is too.
County wants to tear it down, so a highway can go through.
Six months I tried to stop it, put up a hell of a fight.
Didn't want them to do it, somehow it just don't seem right.
So I cleared out all the owls, dadgummit now I won't cry.
I chased out the dogs and cats, it's now time to say goodbye.
© Ronald A. Britton, All rights reserved
by Sgt B
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| Other Critiques of this Work |
| Given By: | [Deleted User] |
| Critique Date: | 09/02/2010 |
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| Critique: | There is so much about this poem that I could relate to. I grew up in an old house, it even smelled old. My mother was born in the living room on Christmas Day 1950. We had a lot of memories in the home, some I'd rather forget, and many I would love to go back to relive. When we lost the home, we felt as though we lost part of our family. My mom would have me drive by the old house once it was sold, and then, past the bare ground after it was tore down. We could still see the times shared, even without the wooden structure, it's amazing how much a house can become part of our lives. The poem was simply incredible. I enjoyed every bit of it. You are one of my favorite poets, here and abroad. Each of your poems has the same sound, yet it showcases a much different theme. This is much different then the way that I write. I try to write something different each time, and I take a big risk in doing so. Stick with what you do best, and now, you have a collection, one that should be accepted by a publisher. It's really time to write that query letter and start making some connections Ron. Sharon and I are hosting a short three to five day writing workshop on writing query letters. I'd love to have you apart of it. There isn't a fee for active members, so please join when it's advertised in the Classes area in a week or so. Or, I'll send you an email to remind you. Great work! |
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