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Sunday, July 8, 2012

Whistle while you work

It's harvesting time

The day started off rough
And got worse from there
I woke in the field
Only to find
An old wooden cart
And a swayed back nag
Was all she left behind

With a hammer ringing
Inside my head
I woke to the feeling
Of Sand in my eyes
The drinks she poured
Felt good at the time
But now I feel ill
My mouth is sure dry

The day started off worse
And only got bad from there
The tractor is gone
With the bailer behind
The bank account’s empty
Purse missing, jewelry inside
The farm hand Luke
Well, of him…no sign

All I have left
Is a cart full of hay
A glue bound horse
With a definite sway
It’s harvesting time
And all I can say
She left me a mess
And then ran away

Chris McQueeney    7/8/12    10:59 P.M.

Thank you tess for the prompt. go by the mag to see what others have done with the prompt  Chilmark Hay, 1951 by Thomas Hart Benton


Brian Miller said...

oh man, she left you up the creek...and sounds like your farm hand as well...even took the tractor...that just aint right man...smiles...

Anonymous said...

this sounds like the beginning of a pretty damn bad day, but definitely told in the most beautiful way.

that totally rhymed not on purpose. :)

i like this. lots!

Berowne said...

Poignant story, well told...

Kutamun said...

Ah fantastic wander, hay carting with a cracking hangover, know it well , not a recipe for Cool Hand Luke ! .

kj said...

"you picked a fine time to leave me, lucille..."

i have praise to say and i will but for now i'm just saying i sent you an email this am, to be sure you got it.

i love the rhyming. i love rhyming. more soon


christopher said...

This isn't Martha's Vineyard any more. I'm aghast and ashamed to speak of this darker hollow along the way to perdition. No sugar coated transition will make it all return to the light, and this is yet another lesson bursting out of my cracked skin through the tight haze and strain of trying to hold my God damn liquor. I guess I sleep, but what do you really call it? I am tied up and flung all across the hard iron tracks of an inbound travesty, the same tracks that took you laughing and flashing out away from me just yesterday.

(The raw material of my next poem)

Sue said...

Love that last verse, especially the "glue bound horse."


kj said...

A glue bound horse
With a definite sway

my fav....

the last verse is super! your rhythm (cadence? is that the right word?) smooths out just perfectly.

reading this makes me want to write with you and many talented commenters here. why don't i?

Wine and Words said...

Taken in context of recent comments, I am reading this one way. I am really empathizing, though obviously from the opposite side of the sexes, but able to invest myself in your viewpoint, in your feelings. Damn. Sometimes life is just so hard. "Sway back nag." Oh, but for the grace of God go I.

Wander said...

A Annie...this one is nothing but a farce, naught but fun :-) thank you for the comment are a good woman, good person!

thank you all for your comments the man just looked so pitiful, the question I kept asking myself was...who is he, how did he end up harvesting alone


She Writes Here Now said...

Hmmm, I can't help but think real life hides in the muse.

Tess Kincaid said...

A glue-bound horse...poor guy...

Wander said...

Of course Amy I draw emotion from the well inside me, but on this one...I think maybe he earned it...not sure yet because I just met him a few days ago...I think I will visit him again to see what's what ...maybe get her side of things;-)

Nadja Notariani said...

Reminds me of an Irish Or a Scottish gig. All sorrows ...yet with a light step, a twinkle in bright blue eyes, and whistling in the distance. Am I twisted around or what? Ha! It's sort of happy in an odd way. Humpf.

Buddah Moskowitz said...

Ah, sweet regret - stay away from that devil booze! Or that devil girl - succinct and to the point, which is unlike what I just wrote.

Strummed Words said...

This is such a clever story. I feel for the guy.