Bthe Old Windmill Poem by Barry A. Lanier

Bthe Old Windmill

Rating: 5.0


I see the grain coming
Looking down over the fields
Time to grease down my bearings
And to oil up my wheels

Configure all of my blades
Getting ready to now turn
A northeasternly is blowing
And my passion now burns

Aloft in my fine tower
Wherever winds blow
Coming face to face
As a soldier to his foe

Crushing the barley
The corn and the rye
Till dusk comes calling
No winds in the sky

When the flour is bagged
Full waters in the tank
To return again tomorrow
Impaling winds then to thank



[ On my grandfather's homeplace he had a windmill built in 1919 on the hill with a standing mill attached along with a watertower made of wood shingles to store the families water, over the years the only poem I've ever seen written about these old wind mills is by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow-The Windmill ]

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Ben Gieske 19 July 2009

Windmills are a favorite of mine. I appreciate your poem, esp. the personification of it.

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