CORNFIELD
between the cobs
secrets held tightly
rows upon rows
little bodies in cocoons
no pink or yellow bows
my world is a cornfield
of endless paths
one – you chose
two – you walk
three – you discover
four – you question
five – you doubt
six – you look back
seven – you rethink
eight – you adjust
nine – you fail
ten – you contemplate
eleven – you decline
twelve – your at the end
my world is like a corn field
the sky is full of the ancients
you might have seen their faces in the sky
as they were drifting by
maybe you have heard one calling
could it have been a crow’s cry
life is full of questions
never do I feel satisfied
when one path I decide to walk
the other passes by
I stand and watch the moments
that mimics me to a fault
then sit in my square of stalks laid bare
where secrets are kept in a vault
still I hear the whispers
chasing me around
sometimes they make me giggle
but often they make me frown
the sun feels warm
and makes me feel secure
secrets of the cornfield
I must forever endure
dark sky draws near
blue figure begins to appear
sound of cracking on cascading stalks
not a whisper heard as they walk
they frighten me for idle fun
I hear the footprints, I don’t run
frozen to the ground, I can hear them come
like shadows they move through each other
flying like a butterfly
still, sit and wonder
why cornfield children don’t cry
they sleep alone
perched onto the stalk which is their home
leaves layered all around
golden hair falling down
I call to whispering shadow
to stand in front of me
for I would like to dance a waltz
and have a cup of tea
shadows in the field
was that you calling me?
or was it just the crows
flying up into the tree
I will walk upon your row of rows
till the north wind blows
forever to sleep upon your chest
hold you till eternal rest
This day I sat, all day in the middle clearing of a cornfield. After some time creating photo poems I began to write. I wanted to see how sitting and experiencing the solitude would change my writing. Observing my reactions to the solitude. With the sun and clouds moving overhead, it was the wind that held me most. The wind whispering in the rows deep. Then like flying birds, it would rise and join the sky.
I was surprised that I became frightened as the wind would jump about for my mind interrupted it as ‘ghosts gathering’. owwwwuuuu
Till in the end, I sort of accepted where I was. As the sun came down my friends called over the tops of the corn tassels. Coffee was brewed!
I was quite content to leave the field and all its whispers.
All and all I think it was a good experiment and one that I will do again, in a different isolated place.
There is also a mini video on YouTube, though I was not able to add a link.
Widowed Without A Manual 