The farmers wife
Where is your windmill?
Trapped under the millers thumb?
Fat and rotund in your simple smock,
flour coated arms from kneading bread.
Ample busom uddering in the morning light,
the sun rises over the lake,
already reflecting your thoughts.
Broegle - like your day begins.
The warming air echoes the growing stench,
bouncing off my timpani.
The village awakes, children cry, swine herds bellow,
In the golden light.
The frosted grass fades away,
cows snort in a steamy nasal way,
so begins another day.
Paul Warner's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (The farmers wife by Paul Warner )
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(7 May 1861 – 7 August 1941)
Alfred Lord Tennyson
(6 August 1809 – 6 October 1892)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
- animals, camila salaverria
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- A Fairy Song, William Shakespeare
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- A Dream Within A Dream, Edgar Allan Poe
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- Death is Nothing at All, Henry Scott Holland
- Best Friend (In Hindi), Tavneet Singh
- My Classroom, shivani pillai