Liilia Talts Morrison

Gold Star - 4,968 Points (August 20,1937 / Estonia)

Country Lives - Poem by Liilia Talts Morrison

Country preachers, country wives
Country teachers, country lives
Long forgotten now their sighs
As they watched old, plain ways die

Water pitchers made of clay
Butter churns in pantries lay
Rocking chairs and porches creaked
Sundays marked the coming week

Barefoot children walked to school
Splashed in puddles to keep cool
Picking berries in the ditch
Thorns and chiggers made them itch

We will never see again
Those slow days when country men
Sawed pine logs for iron stoves
As their women baked warm loaves

There’s no use to mourn and pine
For church picnics crisp and fine
Pies that burst with fragrant fruit
No foul words mouths would pollute

Those days rest in haunted lairs
Where but ghosts of memories dare
On a sleepless hour prepare
Nightmares digging up those layers

Country preachers, country wives
Country teachers, country lives
Why do I still hear their cries
Binding me with painful ties?

Listen to this poem:

Comments about Country Lives by Liilia Talts Morrison

There is no comment submitted by members..

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 28, 2010

[Report Error]