An old windmill stands on a hill;
it once stood proud
as the wind swept round its sails.
Now deserted,
tattered and torn
a shell of its former self,
a relic of a bygone day.
A home now
where wild animals play
and lovers shelter
from a midnight storm.
Forlorn it looks down
from the hill,
ragged with a broken sail
that old windmill.
12 April 2008
I have to agree with Patrick.....I love history, nature, simplicity...and I can feel all that in this little one.....one of your top 10's David
How smart they must have been in their day. There is something ageless about Windmills though. Lovely expressive poem. Love and hugs Ernestine XXX
a chance find. very simple, but so true. old fashioned things had a charm of their own. nostalgic.10 on that David.
There is something rather dignified about your old windmill with its tattered sails and melancholy persona. It always fascinates me how objects take on board the emotional trappings of those who perceive them. You see your subject with a poet's eye, David. Lovely piece. Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
very very good imagery on this! I wish we had more old windmills to check out, just these new crazy huge steal ones...great job
Not many left these days, love looking through our Heritage of bygone days... Andy 10
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like poems that can transport the reader to a particular place and time. This is a good one.