In Barren Fields

red barn

In barren fields where once was grown
Golden wheat in springtime sown
Still stands the barn from long ago
The ravages of years it’s foe
For seasons of neglect atone

The whims of natures force are shown
Within it’s walls her voice well known
Once proud timbers forced to bow
In barren fields

But yet it stands on feet of stone
With faded walls and weathered tone
Staunch against the winters blow
Remembering still the plow and hoe
Abandoned it now dwells alone
In barren fields


About oldmainer

I am a retired manager living in Southern Maine and a would be writer of poetry, narratives, short stories, and random opinions, and that's how Oldmainer was born. Recently, I decided to try an experiment. I added photography to the mix, using only a cheap cell phone with a limited camera and the editing software that came with it, and added the blog site Inklings at to showcase the results. So, feel free to use whatever you find interesting or worthy, but please honor the terms of my copyright when and if you do. They may not be much, but they are still a piece of me. I appreciate your checking me out and hope that you find something that will encourage a return visit. Thanks for stopping by.
This entry was posted in Beauty, History, Memories, Nature, Poetry, Rondeau, Tribute and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to In Barren Fields

  1. splitspeak says:

    You have wonderfully managed to make me feel emotional about a barn.

  2. Starralee says:

    Beautiful! Kind of has the sound of “In Flanders Field”, as I read it.

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