It's not too late to catch up, but for those who are already on day three: Great job! After today’s poem, you’ll be a whole 10% through the month. We’re going to poem this month out! For today’s prompt, write a “the last time I was here” poem. Imagine you’re returning to a spot (physical, emotional, psychological, etc.): Is it a good thing? Bad thing? What did you leave behind (if anything)? What’s there to welcome you back (again, if anything).
*****
Day 3~~THE LAST TIME I WAS HERE
We approach the town outskirts in a traffic jam
Choked with the fumes from the crawling exhausts
Passing through fields, factories and warehouses
Large superstores and graffiti scrawled walls,
With one-way systems and huge super malls.
Where once there was birdsong now sirens sound,
Police, fire, ambulances and a football ground.
A nostalgic visit to roll back the years
My mind takes me back to when last I was here.
I remember the lanes and the hedgerows
Dog roses, elderflowers, hips and haws.
Walking for miles, not a house in sight,
Just farmland with tractors, sheep and cows
Wild rabbits chasing around in the cornfield,
Birds, bees and butterflies along the canal,
Houseboats, river boats, fishermen at work
Barges carrying goods, coal and paper
Herons on the hunt for fish, frogs and tadpoles.
The market town with the impressive Town hall,
Three miles from home on bus, three-four-six,
Every half-hour almost always on time.
The park with the pond and paddle boats,
The Odeon cinema and Saturday morning flicks.
The traditional market with an array of fresh food.
Youth clubs, trade clubs, dancing in the church hall.
We head back home in a state of shock
Preserve your memories, they are all you have got.
By John Yeo 3rd a November 2013
*****
Day 3~~THE LAST TIME I WAS HERE
We approach the town outskirts in a traffic jam
Choked with the fumes from the crawling exhausts
Passing through fields, factories and warehouses
Large superstores and graffiti scrawled walls,
With one-way systems and huge super malls.
Where once there was birdsong now sirens sound,
Police, fire, ambulances and a football ground.
A nostalgic visit to roll back the years
My mind takes me back to when last I was here.
I remember the lanes and the hedgerows
Dog roses, elderflowers, hips and haws.
Walking for miles, not a house in sight,
Just farmland with tractors, sheep and cows
Wild rabbits chasing around in the cornfield,
Birds, bees and butterflies along the canal,
Houseboats, river boats, fishermen at work
Barges carrying goods, coal and paper
Herons on the hunt for fish, frogs and tadpoles.
The market town with the impressive Town hall,
Three miles from home on bus, three-four-six,
Every half-hour almost always on time.
The park with the pond and paddle boats,
The Odeon cinema and Saturday morning flicks.
The traditional market with an array of fresh food.
Youth clubs, trade clubs, dancing in the church hall.
We head back home in a state of shock
Preserve your memories, they are all you have got.
By John Yeo 3rd a November 2013
Copyright Poem by John Yeo © 03/11/2013 All rights reserved.
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