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J. Allen Wilson

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  Carolina Country Wind
by J. Allen Wilson
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Not rated by the Author.

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Recent poems by J. Allen Wilson
•  Thank You Baby For Loving Me
•  A Birthday Prayer
•  Get Thee Behind Me Satan
•  The End Of Times
•  Love This Side Of Heaven
           >> View all 1,550




Growing up meant being surrounded on one side by peach and apple orchards while across the road were acres and acres of pasture and broom straw fields. Now the once daring pasture with its bulls and fences contain high end apartments with swimming pools and tennis courts…too bad they could not have left the fishing hole.


Carolina Country Wind


 


Scaling acres of pasture fences go we two boys free and bold.
Dodging cow patties; laughing at nothing and toting fishing poles.
Come now old man Noah riding range in a red 1952 pickup truck.
Seen him coming; quick, run and hide, nothing but pasture, were sitting ducks.

He kept going, he did not see us, he was looking the other way.
Racing now with the wind, off we go over the hills and around the bend.
Out of breath with lungs now afire, we two boys come to pastures end.

The smell of bream beds and willows greets us as we arrive at the ole fishing hole.
Dean is still wheezing his asthma got in the way; he shrugs it off and reaches for his pole.


The hint of fall comes soft as late summer leaves rustle with blowing August wind.


On the opposite bank are this years used worm cans stacked neatly end to end.


 


Fall will soon arrive and school will start, fishing trips to the pastures pond will be no more.


Never went back after 1966 to this pond again, Dean moved away and left me with my imagination blowing evermore on the old Carolina country wind.


 


J. Allen Wilson © FOUR-Twenty-Six - TWO THOUSAND & SEVEN


 


 


 




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Reviewed by Chantilly Lace (Reader) 4/27/2007
Beautiful write...Hugsssssss
Reviewed by Taylor Ryan 4/26/2007
I love the feel of this poem Allen...nostalgia comfortable enough to wrap yourself up in and wear on the creek banks. I am so saddened by "progress" sometimes. I remember horseback riding on what is now interstate highway, and my Aunt and Uncle's acres and acres of farmland and dairy being flooded by the Little T dam....the snail darter meant more that homes,land, and ways of life and now luxury developments cover the shoreline. The only blessing is that we are left with the breeze of memory. YOu have such a gift , Allen...
xo Taylor
Reviewed by Karen Palumbo 4/26/2007
So beautifully penned! Peering back, walking through time to a place that exists no more. Sad the empty fields were built upon. Wish sometimes progress would slow down. And they call this progress? The beauty has been ravaged, distroyed, such a shame. Enjoyed this.

Be safe,
Karen
Reviewed by E T Waldron 4/26/2007
Allen you do these look backs so ell and the nostalgia
is palpable, bringing me into my own neighborhood at that
time and oh the changes seem so unfair... Great work!

Eileen
Reviewed by Barbara Smith 4/26/2007
Allen, I like the picture a lot...it reminded me of a swimming hole we use to spend hours in during the summer months. I liked the country scene I captured while reading this...I will say, it kept my interest and I found it enjoying and entertaining.
Reviewed by Sharon Jordan 4/26/2007
"...left me with my imagination blowing evermore" - a beautiful way to summarize this poem.

~Sharon
Reviewed by H Cruz 4/26/2007
Awesome reminiscent dude!
Reviewed by Louisa Dobbins 4/26/2007
Ahhhhh the scents of the Carolina Country Wind. I always tell folk that I was born in Blythewood, when it was country.
Reviewed by Butch Howard 4/26/2007
Wow Allen, does this ever dredge up old childhood memories for me! I remember when I lived in KY we "snuck" over to a pond in the middle of a thoroughbred horse farm and I talked my friend Scott into getting onto one of the resident colts. As soon as he got on the horse's back, I slapped the horse on the rump ....and the race was on. Scott fell off about 50 yards away. He never forgave me for that. The bream were bedding and I remember catching them until our arms got tired. Thanks for the memories and the excellent poem!
~Butch
Reviewed by Ed Matlack 4/26/2007
Love the memories you have invoked...no old fishing holes on this end, but we all had our own special places...this is one of your best, showing your happy go lucky side...Ed

Books by
J. Allen Wilson



Glimpse OF An Angel

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Whispers Of The Heart

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Before Darkness Falls

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