Rape seed

The Gods have lived here,
kings and knights at war,
but has this field
a name to remember
who owned this land,
this soil, where, sofar
just yellow flowers
and a lonely tree
under the grey skies
silently wait
and nothing changes
when the wind is moving East?

The waiting land
has seen the secret sins
and bastard kin
working on these fields.

The seeds of rape
became strong sons,
lived farmers lives,
died with no names
and all remaining
as proof
of their existence
are these flowers.

Listen well: a whisper tells
the tale of this waiting land
when the wind is moving East
and nothing changes much.
But who planted these flowers
with this telling name?

This Summer I made this photo somewhere between Bridlington and Leeds – no idea where 🙂

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Comments on: "Rape seed" (12)

  1. This is a great poem,Ina! I love the way you have used the rape seed.

    I thought when I first saw the pic it looked typically English!! And so close to home too! Were you in David’s car and did you make him stop to take the pic?! Lol 🙂

    • Hi Christine
      thank you! 🙂
      yes I was in his car, he stopped the car to make a pic so I decided to make a few too 🙂
      The weather was like what we have now, with beautiful clouds!
      Love and hugs xx

  2. Maybe we will get lots of Autumn sunshine?!! We can keep hoping! Lol xx

  3. The last verse just carried me away. A lovely rich text

  4. So evocative – the ghosts will never leave…

  5. “Rape Seed” strikes a lonely & reflective chord; leaves one thinking; plaintive perspective shot of the road, as well…

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