I’d love to be an archaeologist,
and dig up a real good find.
A skeleton or two would frankly do,
each one of a human kind.
Some pottery, and tiles of mosaic,
jewellery that women wore,
back through stages, in far distant ages.
Even a dinosaur’s jaw.
There were Romans, Saxons, and Vikings,
who all roamed over our land.
With their pleasures, they must leave some treasures,
to be uncovered by hand.
Hours of gentle light digging and scraping,
at soil to reveal a prize.
A coin, some flax, buckle of bronze, flint axe,
can make one’s excitement rise.
Our history is found under our feet,
we walk upon it each day.
A fascinating state, to excavate,
this earth, this brown mud, this clay.
© Ernestine Northover
What with my bad left eye I read....would like to dig up a friend....LOL I enjoyed it.
A fascinating write! and a pleasure to read. I love it..I miss you, Ern Love, Meggie
As a young child, tilling the soil, I discovered countless indian arrowheads. In my mind they were simply another object to throw. I would be so thrilled to reclaim every single one of them! Thank you for the memories.......
a poem desirous of digging deep down to explore the greatness of generations borne out of and died on this earth...good original thinking...good write
A good one, I enjoyed it a lot and there is nothing like getting your hands dirty whilst searching for treasures.
Fascinating indeed, this was an enjoyable read that transported me into a dusty dig, thanks for the trip!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Oh and you have the bonus of working outdoors in all weathers, getting a ricked back and dirty fingernails...Every job has its merits.Takr care Ernestine. Sid x.