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Click hereAcross from the big white farm house
The barn has been there for over 100 years
No longer used for hay or for horses
But maintained by one with the wisdom
to know that value comes not just from use
I saw him there one afternoon
While driving by so I stopped to talk
and see the barn, to get a closer look
He was proud to show me inside
To see the frames and beams that were joined
mortise and tenon, wood pinned, hand hewn
10 inch square, 8 inch square, 6 inch square
I smelled old wood and old hay and earth
As he spoke of the age and construction
And explained the old falls and the tackles
Used to lift and stack hay through the years
I saw love the for the barn in his eyes
And heard the respect in his voice
For those who had built and had used it
My quick stop became a long conversation
A conversation that led to a friendship
He bought clover hay back last summer
And broke down the bails in the loft
just because he loved how it smelled
Mourning doves had nests in the rafters
Blue morning glories were growing
All along the old stone foundation
With the daisies and Queen Anne's lace
Through the years outbuildings were added
To fit function but with an eye for aesthetics
That followed form and balanced the barnyard
I tried to capture this with my camera
But I just haven't got the right eye
It could better be shown in a painting
Well, that beautiful old red barn
Was burned to the ground last week
By children with cigarettes,
After standing over 100 years.
This was clearly not his fault
But it had happened on his watch
And that poor man's heart has been broken
So sad how his heart has been broken
so well, you get entranced in the scenes with the use of explanation on the senses, smell, sight touch, depth of emotion, you guide the reader with out boring them, the only critique is the over use of the word "and" some places it fits but others it adds a bit of a harsh echo to your narrative, this is a definite 5 Oldbear!
I picked this passage because I think it shows you what I mean about the word "and"
I smelled old wood and old hay and earth
As he spoke of the age and construction
And explained the old falls and the tackles
Used to lift and stack hay through the years
There again I don't know if you write with a syllable count or if like me you write to an internal rhythm that only you seem to notice hahaha
thanks for this very strong poem, as most of yours are :-)
You can only trust others to respect what they think is important. The tragedy is that people so rarely agree on what those things are. And well, children tend to respect very little.
Quite simply the best poem I have read on Literotica this year.
Lyrical, simple description combined with story and sensitivity of feeling. It is a style of writing I cannot write myself but deeply, deeply respect and admire in Oldbear.