The old farmer....

skin scarred by the sears of life, bent
with the weight of still being here
even if world shafted, thankful
for just living, patience seasoned, digs
with hope and hoe,earth
to sow seed with hands of sweat
in the dust where life resides, seeking for himself
no more than may suffice
and tilled his time away
before the rice plantation, slouching
out of the ground, triple stalked, explodes
with flowers ,soon sun made golden field
and on them the new generation's life is born,
causing time to grow old.



Poetry by yoonoos peerbocus
Read 29 times
Written on 2026-02-02 at 16:47

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William Hughes The PoetBay support member heart!
I often think that farmers sometimes don't get the respect they merit. It's a hard life, so when I eat I try to remember where my food came from. Nicely penned.
2026-02-03