The yellow gorse upon the hill,
The bluebell woods below,
Oh how I wish to be there still,
Maybe one day I'll go.
This foreign field is bare and sere
No scents to waken me,
No clouds hung low, or sweet breezes blow,
Nothing for miles to see.
So I close my eyes, and I can see
There in the woods below,
The bluebells sway, and I can play
In those fields of long ago.
Verse 2 sounds better
This foreign field is bare and sere
No scents to waken me
No clouds hung low, nor breezes blow
Nothing for miles to see.
I thought that your poem was nice. I also feel a bit homesick at times, too, so I know how you feel. Is there a particular place that you wanted to go to?
JP
I felt your homesickness however, I also felt your love of home. Its
good to have the memories and still be able to mind play sweet home!
Mary...aka Ladybug
I think it's a fine poem and it reminded me of the place that I'm homesick for.
very nice very nice... makes me wanna go back to places of yonder childhood.. or something =)
Now this is a real theme of yours, right? Still you turn it out differently with every new poem. I like to see also how you try to improve them.
siren, as always