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Scarecrow



 
On fenlands of Lincolnshire – alone
 
Flapping against an aggression from the west
 
Borrowed clothes ripping as bellowed sails
 
Flecks of straw rising skywards in dust
 
A rigid form with fluid movement
 
Waving and bending and howling
 
Or is that the squalls of frightened seasons
 
On flatlands
 
On tilled earth
 
Beside the worm worn rook hops
 
Berates the form of tangled frightening
 
Folded scorn, in our clothes
 
Beyond lays a flattened horizon
 
A sun sets in solemn time
 
Lowers with the
 
Arms of the slanted soul who
 
Becomes shade and silhouette
 
Appears in a long view set against
 
A fading light
 
And whistles pitched high
 
Cut through this image of mankind.
 
 
Stephen Holloway.
 Nottingham poet
 

About poetreecreations

I am an author writer publisher web administrator I run poetry workshops in the community. My published Manners childrens poetry book can be found at www.waterstones.com

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