We four-squared the fields,
Measuring the flat-topped hedges,
Of briared histories,
With a quart of different scales:
A brace of busmans' holidays,
(We ploughed our city trades of measurements) .
But the ungrazed clump-suck of meadow,
Brought us both back from town,
And to talk of easelled-landscapes.
Ahead, as usual, the others, a decade behind,
Avoid such muddied reflections,
Puddle-stuck below.
At this indoor hour, with these paints,
To draw that sunset December march:
A survey of possible Roman villa,
Outlying farmhouses converted with other currencies,
The Ripe red brick long-dead slaughterhouse,
And a paced friendship - best not set-aside.
Measuring the flat-topped hedges, Of briared histories, , ....is very amazing definitely with interesting imagery. Wisely drafted poem shared with reality.10
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Lovely depiction of the essence of surveyor's duty, well articulated and subtly penned in poetic diction with insight. Lovely piece of poetry written with conviction. Thanks for sharing Mike. Please read my poem MANDELA - THE IMMORTAL ICON.