She was fading with time,
blending without shine,
wardrobe worn to a pale red,
as rust was being fed,
her owner called her "Bess",
as she had served her purpose,
clearing trees and pulling stumps,
plowing fields and filling bumps,
forty years she worked these fields,
the cause of good yields,
and now her time had come,
no more parts, she could hardly run,
she could cough, spurt and fart,
she just didn't have the heart,
so as the year began to fade,
she blended into fall, away.
Mar 22, 2018
Fading
About This Poem
Last Few Words: Bess is an old tractor almost ignored in the woods of Vancouver Island. I almost missed her as I drove by but thank God for brakes! The canvas has been posted on Instagram and under the #trekkerdekker. It was funny I had been working on this canvas for a month trying to think of a poem to coincide, when it finally came after I just finished the canvas. Hope you enjoy both!
Style/Type: Free verse
Review Request Direction:
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
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Review Request Intensity: I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing Stage: Editing - draft
Comments
Great poem
That is what I thought ! An old tractor, indeed.