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British Fields
Chris Waters
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Yesterday's cauldron eschews God's loveliest view:
Ils vont ensemble comme coquelicot et blé:
"The lovers are like red poppies in gold wheat."
On rare roadsides, in scarce wild fields, taunting,
some poppies still grow, alone. Today's usurper,
solid-yellow oilseed rape, close or distant,
draws all eyes although already challenged by
the gentle blue of linseed; Leicas are already noticing,
from airplanes, highways, promenades and railways, oh,
tomorrow's calendars, home cassettes and screens.
The newspapers rumble now of next year's innovation,
fodder lupin. Let's pray it's rainbow-like.
We shall pay a starving farmer for 4 squares
within a square--blue linseed, yellow oilseed rape,
multicolored fodder lupin, and, absolutely sans fertilizer,
a wondrous fieldlet of red poppies in gold wheat.
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Author's Note
Chris Waters splits his time between Cape Hatteras and Rhode Island. He's in print since age 7 ("When I Go Hunting," Uncle Andy's Column, New London Day), and his poetry prizes include the $500 Betsy Colquitt Award and one from the BBC. Chris has published three poetry books, Senegal, Hatteras Symphony, and Outer Banks Sonata, all with March Street Press. Also, as Harold A. Waters (Professor Emeritus at URI), he published four prose works, one on Paul Claudel, three on black francophone literature. He's in search of a publisher for his recently finished "King Philip's Talking Head, Amerindian Poems" and "Bestiary of Alfonso The Wise" (renditions of the 26 animal-miracle Galician cantigas by the 13th-century Spanish monarch).
You can contact Chris Waters by email at hwa8559u@aol.com or visit his web site, metanoiac.com/hwa8559u . |
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