This Poem was Submitted By: marilyn terwilleger On Date: 2005-08-14 13:16:40 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!To Listen to Music While Reading this Poem, just Click Here!
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The Farmer A farmer tills the stricken land
Under a bright and ancient sun.
He owns furrowed brow and gnarled hand,
His days are long and toilsome.
At the first turning of the first row
He heard sounds of a doleful brook
It's water barely brimmed a cup.
He saw the waste but feared to look
The wizened bed had not filled up.
At the second turning of the second row
He felt the breeze of a sinister wind,
Clouds stirred in a boundless sky.
Dolent is earth when dry and skinned
He scanned the land with a watchful eye.
At the first turning of the third row
He waited while clouds gathered
The earth crouched and humped in dread,
Thunder spoke and leaves withered
He slowed his plow, looked overhead.
At the second turning of the fourth row
With parted lips and straining eyes he gaped,
The swollen sky broke and sunk where he stood.
He felt healing rain as over fields it draped
On bended knee he cried and God understood. |
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Copyright © August 2005 marilyn terwilleger
This Poem was Critiqued By: Elaine Marie Phalen On Date: 2005-09-03 20:14:41
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Marilyn, the details you provide are so specific that I feel as if I'm walking in the furrow right behind the farmer's tractor. I like the way you separate each stanza (and phase in the man's despair) with a comment on which row is being turned, and how often it's been done. It's interesting that the rows are being "turned" twice, yet nothing is happening. It is as if he has plowed but not planted, or plowed unsuccessfully and replanted ... not a shoot grows in this wasteland. As with many other situations in life (for this poem could also be taken as a metaphor for perseverence and faith in adversity), effort doesn't always lead to results. Only through a power greater than, and beyond, ourselves can we manage to hold fast and conquer.
Meter interests me with this one because it's consistently tetrameter through the first four stanzas, that discuss the effects of the dry period, and then it shifts to a pentameter - although not totally regular - the the final stanza when the rains have come. So the meter tends to change when the story changes, which s a neat trick, really. The other thing I notice is that you start in present tense, then go to past tense in S2 and remain with that. IMO, present is normally stronger and would have more impact, yet this tale seems to have been set in years gone by, so it's your call to make.
I like the atmoshpere you've created, which speaks of older times and simpler lifestyle. "Dolent is earth" makes good use of an obsolete word which, with the inverted syntax, suggests once more the past time period. This could be any century, since you make no reference to modern machinery such as a tractor or disc harrow. "He slowed his plow" - rather than "he slowed his tractor" - suggests that it's being moved either by hand or draft animal. Thus the work would be even more backbreaking.
Funny how we both posted "drought" poems this month! In the aftermath of Katrina, I guess dry weather is the last thing anybody's worrying about. This is a good one, and certainly awakens sympathy for the poor farmer. We also share his relief when the rain arrives! The poem then becomes a parable about acceptance of the divine intent. We need a few more bended knees these days!
Hope the jaw is a bit better tonight. Take care!!
Brenda
This Poem was Critiqued By: arnie s WACHMAN On Date: 2005-09-03 08:54:49
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.38235
Okay, neat parable perhaps of the flood? Good rhythm here, with easy to follow words. The farmer
is the back bone of our countries. Without them, where would we get our food? And we for the most
part treat them like the dirt they toil. Gotta be something about plowing other than making money.
...and then what about flooded lands that can't be tilled?
Did G-d really understand? I am so cynical these days esp. in light of what happened in New Orleans.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Mark Steven Scheffer On Date: 2005-08-24 16:08:30
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.62500
Marilyn,
Nice telling and - perhaps you can tell Arnie this - it had a structure imposed on it that bespoke poetry.
Their was a nice pathos in the last stanza, and your skill had me totally implicated in the unraveling.
A good narrative poem.
Mark
This Poem was Critiqued By: Turner Lee Williams On Date: 2005-08-22 13:28:29
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.90909
Marilyn–I was raised on a farm/ranch eons ago and nothing has changed:
flora and fauna needs H-2-O to thrive. Your personified rhyming narra-
tive dramatically and vividly captures the plight of farmers/ranchers
when drought/near drought conditions exist. Thankfully, this story has
the great redeeming twist/turn. Supreb suspenseful metaphoric storytell-
ing throughout made my eyes well with tears, esp;
“At the second turning of the fourth row
With parted lips and straining eyes he gaped,
The swollen sky broke and sunk where he stood.
He felt healing rain as over fields it draped
On bended knee he cried and God understood. “
(WOW!) A great gambit of emotions/dramatics/piety stuffed in this post.
You’ve just raised the bar for storytelling at TPL. This is realism plus!TLW
This Poem was Critiqued By: Gerard A Geiger On Date: 2005-08-17 21:17:46
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.85714
Dear Marilyn;
The Farmer is an appropriate ode to the
steadfast labor involved with minimal assurance
that the necessary nutrient of rain will
come. Your farmers angst is clear as he sees less than a cup of water
in his brook or irrigation ditch. Yet he continues
with his labor turning his rows while keeping a watchful eye
on the natural actions of the sky which foretell coming rain.
As the rains come, he cries, probably from relief of his worry
and gratitude that his crop will have sustenance...
and God understood....
as he always has and always will...
A lovely, earthy, hearty, plain and honorable work.
I like it....thankyou for this fine piece, Marilyn.
Your friend,
Gerard
This Poem was Critiqued By: Claire H. Currier On Date: 2005-08-15 04:23:49
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.80000
The Farmer........great title for this one Poet......certainly hits home with most farmers at one time or another.....rain, the most watched for ingredient any farmer needs to help his crop grow. good structure, word flow, each row brings forth new images of what the farmer goes through not only with his hands but in his heart and mind.....the hard, long planting and working of the land and without rain to keep things a growing the land and the produce wither away and die leaving a loss growing season. I surely can understand the tears the Farmer mixed with the rain that fell upon him and his land that day and I know God understood as well. We have been in an extremely hot, humid summer season here in New England as it has been over most of the world this year. The storms to bring relief have been few and far inbetween and with temps reaching well into the high nineties with high humidity there have been many farmers praying for just the rains you speak of. This morning a gentle rain falls outside my bedroom window, the temps are still up there, the humidity makes breathing rather hard but the tomatoes and other veggies are reaching with deep joy as they feel each drop fall upon their leaves and fruit of the farmers labor. Thank you for posting and sharing with us. If you plant I hope you did well. My tomatoes are super this year but everything else did hardly anything. God Bless, Claire
This Poem was Critiqued By: Duane J Jackson On Date: 2005-08-14 23:46:28
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Hi Marilyn,
The Farmer....life giver to countless millions and yet overlooked in a world more caught up with fast cars and tall buildings. In India, the plight of the farmer is a predicament of untold proportions. For people who dedicate their lives to the hunger pangs of more well to do classes of society (millions and millions of citizens), we have failed in our endeavours to make their lives more comfortable. Left to the mercy of freaky weather, we have sidelined them from our streams of national consciousness and have taken them for granted. We owe them a lot more.....in India, they are still made to work with obsolete machinery, ineffective socail welfare schemes, spars education for their children. I can go and on which means I identify with your poem whole heartedly.
I love the way you have structured this...with every row turned bringing out the anticipation of rainfall, the confrontation with the drought stricken land around him. You have done justice to his plight.
A farmer tills the stricken land ---- stricken land...nice way to describe the drought situation.
Under a bright and ancient sun--- ancient sun...evokes the essence of prolonged drought, ever present.
He owns furrowed brow and gnarled hand,----good imagery here
His days are long and toilsome.
He heard sounds of a doleful brook ---- the brook laments in its emptiness...crying with the farmer
It's water barely brimmed a cup---- lovely way to describe the almost empty brook. excellent!
He saw the waste but feared to look ---- a fear of confronting the reality of the situation
The wizened bed had not filled up.
He felt the breeze of a sinister wind--- sinister wind (nice)
Clouds stirred in a boundless sky--- nice prjection of the expanse of nothing...God's deafness to his call
Dolent is earth when dry and skinned
He scanned the land with a watchful eye --- watching carefully for any signs of hope..a drop of rain perhaps
He waited while clouds gathered
The earth crouched and humped in dread --- excellent imagery of the dry earth...old and bent with drought
Thunder spoke and leaves withered
He slowed his plow, looked overhead.
With parted lips and straining eyes he gaped ----parted lips, straining eyes - amazed, shocked,inert
The swollen sky broke and sunk where he stood.
He felt healing rain as over fields it draped
On bended knee he cried and God understood.---- finally, mercy from the heavens above
I'm really happy that you wrote this, Marilyn. hardly anyone bothers about where all our food comes from (at least in India).
As far as structure is concerned, the meter works fine. I do feel that the last verse stretches a bit and isn't as consistent as the meter of its predecessors.
Looking forward to reading more!!
Take care,
Duane.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Rachel F. Spinoza On Date: 2005-08-14 21:27:58
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
a lovely poem marilyn - rich and evocative
A farmer tills the stricken land
Under a bright and ancient sun.
He owns [excellent verb!]furrowed brow and gnarled hand,
His days are long and toilsome.
At the first turning of the first row
He heard [why does the tense change here? perhaps the first stanza could also be past tense?]
sounds of a doleful brook
[Its] water barely brimmed a cup.
He saw the waste but feared to look
The wizened bed had not filled up. [really interesting scene and language]
At the second turning of the second row
[this progression is grand]
He felt the breeze of a sinister wind,[good "i" assonance]
Clouds stirred in a boundless sky.
Dolent is another tense change earth when dry and skinned
He scanned the land with a watchful eye.
At the first turning of the third row
He waited while clouds gathered
The earth crouched and humped in dread, [really nice]
Thunder spoke and leaves withered
He slowed his plow, looked overhead.
At the second turning of the fourth row
With parted lips and straining eyes he gaped
The swollen sky broke and sunk where he stood. [powerful!}
He felt healing rain as over fields it draped
On bended knee he cried[,] and God understood.
dramatic ending to a fine piece.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Lora Silvey On Date: 2005-08-14 15:06:06
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.73333
Oh Marilyn,
This is simply superb, one of your best. Great structure and flow, very easy to read. I especially like the break inbetween with the counting of rows. You entice your reader to read on to see what happens, what the final outcome will be. Your verbiage paints panoramic pictures of the farmer, a drought, hard work and the blessing of keeping faith with his principles, his belief. Very well crafted and a rood read, thank you for sharing this with us. To me it is somewhat reminescent of Stienbeck's works, you've truly captured the moment in time, could be a Rockwell painting.
Blessings,
Lora
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