I Remember - A rural rant!

I remember when all this was fields,
You could see for miles
With not a soul in sight
The lane ended in a welcome meadow
With a pond that held all kinds of delight.

The cows roamed and chewed the cud
And the trusting Lark made her nest on the ground
And all around
Not a sound.

Save that of the distant bleating
Of sheep and quiet birds nesting
And chirping in the hedgerow.

For far, far away then was the road
The highway of man
And his planners, plotters and schemers all
First bikes then cars
Then screaming jets and choppers

Far from the quiet countryside
But ever nearer it came
With its huge crawling machines
Spitting out soil and root and turf
The men of spoil
Tearing and churning up the earth.

You didn't see the carefully hidden vole
Or delicate anemone
To the fox and the badger
No friend but and enemy.

So you built your road
And then tore along it
Caring not about the carnage to the wildlife
Your great highway to the high life
Pound signs before your eyes
Blotting out all signs of life

I remember when all this was fields
You could see from one hilltop to the next
No motorway or dual carriageway
Or hideous factory units
Waiting to be let

Now there's your road
Your stinking dusty road
Belching out fumes
And filth and tar
Dirtying hedgerows
With your brand-new cars

Gone, its all gone
The picture book walk by the brook
With blackberry, rose and birdsong
And the smell of fresh mown hay.

All we have left is houses
Ribbon development
Finger development
A finger in every damn pie
And every stinking lie
Has just led to rot and decay

I remember when all this was fields...

Joe Morriss

Harpole 24th January 2011

Dog Rose

Dog rose rests in budded beauty

Waiting on the eve of summer's morn

When she will awake to sweet scented elderflower,

And see green June

With his rolling fields

And well watered, full bodied trees.

Blackbird makes her nest

Low in the hedgerow

Fussing about with dusty stick and stem

She chirps and chides

Ceaselessly calling the evening chimes

Ale fair

And fair festival in the village there,

The calf and his mother stand swishing

On a small plot of pasture

In the twighlight, feeding,

With steady gaze and shuffling hoof.

Hidden in the long grass

Suffering poppy shelters

Scorched by the noonday heat

She flutters in the evening breeze

And sheds her wilted, crimson leaves

Shire ponies gather round

Next the well trodden trough

The falling field gate,

Wood rubbed and thinly worn.

Lamb and yew look on contented,

And with the rose

Await the dawn

Joe Morriss

31st May 2010