The simple farmer poets almanac

chapter 1

The simple farmer poets almanac

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" They didn't teach us nowt but dirt,

but boy, did we learn well, "

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the ingrained dirt stains of generations

under a burning sun

a sand paper throat drinking grit

and skin shadows of moisture

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      > the hardship

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the madness of blighted potatoes

words thrown into infertile ground/

land

a stock rotation of standard

stock

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     > the toil

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a liberty of locust stripping

poetry bare, the crying image of disruption

and despair,

 

I feel

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      > the solid earth beneath my fingers

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and the revolutionaries  that came to save us

we hugged and banged heads and minds

in gratitude of welcome coming storm

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in gratitude, of when they burned my

words 

in document in decay

the bonfire sparked to life

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 - they smashed my f*****g pen

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     < the honesty of labour

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with a broken finger excuse of stick

dead trees and earth

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      < the silence of poets

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I draw sad poems in dirt, 

 " boy, they taught us well, "

Reviews

[Ruth]

Oh goodness, Gram, this is exceptional :) The reality is we would be nowhere without such wisdom and the soil beneath our feet...cultivating with hands buried in earth or indeed voicing the written word are arts sometimes forgotten and yet they make a person who they are...I so enjoyed this poem, beautifully done as always...

[gram linski]

thanks for the great review, Ruth aye wise words, glad you enjoyed this one wasn't sure if it worked , appreciate the visit

[jacob erin-cilberto]

and they had the gall to think they could burn your words as unsuitable.

I guess metaphors are all well and good...but the simple, straightforward farmer type poetry that comes from
the rich, but plain soil of the brain is really the poetry that expresses for everyone...the relatable words
that need to be heard.
j.

[gram linski]

thanks so much, j, glad you enjoyed and got the gist, always appreciate your views,

[barleygirl]

Upon first reading, I was going full-bore into your grueling farming analogy until I got to this: "locust stripping poetry bare" -- then I remembered this was about poets too. From that point on, I felt there was a "going-back-and-forth" between the two interpretations, farming & writing. Clever parallel to draw. Sometimes refuse to make any political comments on FB these days becuz the locusts (Trump supporters, since I live in Trump country & alot of them are my FB friends for some ungodly reason! A lifetime of torture for having inadvertently gone to high school with these Trump chumps!) these insanely overprotective birds will descend en masse & peck my eyeballs out for the mere sin of calling that fuckwad a "buttwipe" (which was the kindest thing I could think to say & I edited it down a couple times before I hit "enter"!) Anyhow, I digress after my 16th bowl of bud by high noon. My point is that your poem harkens to the way it can feel more comfortable & more secure to just write for fun & never attempt to let it out there for mass consumption unless you like that eyeball-pecking sensation quite a bit (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[gram linski]

hey, Margie, thanks for reviewing, I agree Trump is a fuckwad, think I would have edited it up a notch to describe that f****r, and I do think you ae stoned after that am a bit lost, but thanks again for seemingly not liking any poems you reviewed, always appreciate, your time

[barleygirl]

I'm sorry for not saying I really like this poem! When I go on & on, that's a sign you've tripped my switch with some damn fine thought threads! Sometimes it's better to keep my fingers in the dirt, these days, is all I was trying to say.

[gram linski]

it can be a bit of a struggle trying to articulate after 16 bowls of bud haha, appreciate your visit Margie, hugs back at ya

[Eilis]

You know I am an Irish history buff, so I can't help but see shadows of that here. But I know Scottish history has similar undertones and experiences, so as I contemplate all these things, I find myself looking back and back in history to the beginning of the tool-wielding man. In the beginning (as the epic always begins) farming was a liberation from the uncertainty of hunting and gathering. But, as with nearly all things, man has put his stamp on it in ways that aren't so grand, and it has become something other. Something that gives life has long been used as a tool of control, and so (for me) your poem seems to easily segue into some metaphor for human life itself.

What I loved about this was the simplicity of the idea and how the dirt and art seemed interconnected and both offered this duality of experience. The dirt provides sustenance and independence, but when not properly tended or when used as a tool for suppression, the land can become a mangler of the human body and spirit. The potato famine is a prime example, which I felt you were alluding to at points. In a similar way, art is this thing of beauty, but also a weapon--used by or against the artist--or simply taken away so that the need for that expression cannot be fulfilled.

But your ending shows that the impulse cannot be stamped out. And even if they take every tool we have, they cannot take away the spirit the drives the human animal forward. Seeking sustenance in whatever ways it can be found.

This poem gives me such an excitement about what we can do as these animals we are with creative brains. Adapting and defeating in the face of many things. Great poem, Gram.

[gram linski]

thanks for the great review, Eilis, I was trying to convey that feeling that you don't need to be rich to make art or poetry some of the best works come from the poor starving artist , that adversity of existence , the hardship of inspiration but even with nothing we will find a way to express ourselves, once again you pick up on the whole range of emotions and thought that underlie the narrative , thanks again for your continued support of my writing, it is much appreciated

[R.E. Ray]

Scarcity and despair are ruthless but damn good teachers. It's often when we're on our knees, hungry, thirsty and sick that we discover true ourselves. The most resilient, poets among them, use whatever they have to leave a mark, if not for themselves, for others who will follow. An original work rich with imagery and wisdom, Gram.

[gram linski]

thanks, R.E. they do say necessity is the mother of invention, and dirt is a damn good teacher, indeed , to quote Seasick Steve, " I started out with nothing and I still have most of it left, ", appreciate the visit,

[R.E. Ray]

You're welcome, sir.

[Robert Trakofler]

Crap I have been doing it wrong... why deny the futility of artful expression and just go ahead and write them into the dirt the first time:/ Jesus your a clever writer... the dirt I dine and the intentions I digest only to become part of the soil in the end of yes this is a familiar folly:) but why oh why do we have such need to always play in the dirt Mr. Gram

[gram linski]

haha, aye throw all art straight to the dirt for the pigs to feast, probably a more appreciative audience, liked your little poemette , feel a poem tickling , always appreciate your visits, Mr B, I was born of the falling dirt of a million dying planets