Friday, December 11, 2015

When I was a child



When I was a child
I rolled in the new mown hay
Stacking the straw bales

Childhood's glory days
Now spoilt by other meanings
Growing to manhood

Straws suck so does life
Then you must grasp the last straw
When all else has failed

Can you now bear it?
Straw that breaks the camels back
Defeat not success

Here's the man of straw
The front man of no substance
Part of the big plan

Straw dogs are on show
They're intended to look good
But never succeed

Pollies love straw polls
To judge just a small sample
To claim that they're right

Don't be in a rush
You can't make bricks without straw
You must plan ahead

Unlucky it is
To grasp that final short straw
It's not just pure chance

When I became man
I now think deviously 
To fit in this world

Image found at www.flickr.com

2 comments:

  1. Growth is a complicated business - which requires wit, wisdom and soul to achieve - i doff my straw hat to you for achieving that - and such a clever poem

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  2. For all that straw is and has become -
    we can become better for the grain that has feed us. And for that 'bread' both of subsidence and knowledge that we share.

    I was watching a cooking show of a gal that lives on a 'frontier' and her family was harvesting the hay... that was part of my inspiration. I remember square bails growing up. It was a long time before I saw those huge circular bales. But then I lived in the city for a long time too.

    Thanks for your visit. Hoping your childhood memories were pleasant...

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