Mike Bell

An English Field, In Ripe - Poem by Mike Bell

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.

Topic(s) of this poem: countryside

Form: Blank Verse

Poet's Notes about The Poem

After a walk across fields of Ripe, with friends, dogs and sunsets

Comments about An English Field, In Ripe by Mike Bell

  • Chinedu Dike (12/28/2015 12:40:00 PM)

    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. (Report) Reply

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  • Kelly Kurt (12/7/2015 3:45:00 PM)

    A very well written piece, Mike. Thank you (Report) Reply

  • Kumarmani Mahakul (12/7/2015 12:06:00 PM)

    Measuring the flat-topped hedges,
    Of briared histories, , ....is very amazing definitely with interesting imagery. Wisely drafted poem shared with reality.10
    (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Monday, December 7, 2015

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