I hid inside an old oat bin away from the others, I didn’t want in I felt alone, yet, content with mind I though about life in view of time When I am gone no noise within
...while carving my name in that old oat bin
Here I’m hiding, in a game of seek, yet, I whittle myself, the others remember me Concealed in my place; Now, who will see? For an other who hides, just like me! When I am gone no noise within...
...while carving my name in that old oat bin
I see you here, no longer just mind, away from the others of a different kind I was here too!... then I signed my name, hiding in here, in an other find me game When we are gone no noise within...
"Just look at all those names in that old oat bin!"
Love it, Kimmy.
Takes me back to an income tax evasion case in the late 1950s in Federal Court. A farmer in Illinois brought into the courtroom his barn door as evidence. It seems that's where he marked down the number of bags of feed he bought each year for his cattle. Very believable. Case thrown out. Carvings win.
Nostalgia. Love it. And at my age, I've got heaps to dredge up.
Hell's bells, come to think of it, I'm a piece of nostaglia myself!
Confession, dear Kimmy. I love everything you write. Don't stop now. You're on a roll!
Love ya,
Richard
Just how many hid in that "Old Oat Bin?" Oooh look what you started, now I crave a hiding place of me own, a little seclusion. I'll carve TPP, hoping noone finds ME!
Creative is always good. Huuum "carving my name in an old oat bin"...rather than on an old oak tree...yep! Creative! :)
Hugs
Lena
Reviewed by Chris Fitzgerald (Reader)
Reviewed on February 15, 2007
Your reminiscent pleasurable talent shines bright with this write.
I don't remember where it was but mine were carved in the hay loft somewhere but that old barn is gone but my memory is forever.
Thanks Kimmy
Love
Chrissy
For me it was an old wooden water tower in Illinois outside MT Prospect, one that the trains didn't use anymore. Great write Kimmy Van Kooten! Simply put, you are one rootin tootin high falootin friend o mine. (-:
Yep, gets kinda crowded, don't it?? Wonderfully fraternal write that resonates with each of us, I'm sure, Kimmy, whilst expressing that need and desire to "opt out" when circumstances prevail... Takes me back to many a hay bale, actually!! :)) Unique and engaging, TY K xx
Your words leave much for the imagination to play with...just as a great write should do! Enjoyed this much, a refreshing write that reflects what every poet desires, to engrave their thoughts and words upon the hearts and minds of their readers, leaving behind their own personal impression/mark that makes them hard to forget! Enjoyed this so much!
Blessings,
Joyce Bowling
Dear Kimmy, when you, and me and the others poets are gone, it will be plenty of noises around....our words.
It will be like trying to make a mute bronze bell.
Kimmy will be Kimmy, always.
Georg
I've told you several times since reviewing your works of art that you are EXTREMELY good with wording and the thought process that it causes in your readers. This is an excellent piece.
George
Very unique and refreshing write that says it all, it is like we always believe that we are the first to do so many things and yet so often the proof is right in front of us.
“The woman or man who is a poet, or fiction writer, or playwright, or all of these, is engaged constantly in a jazz ballet of vocabularies, passions, genders, histories, perspectives, death, love, and life. The music of revelation announces itself to
BEFORE DARKNESS FALLS Retails for 14.95 / but you can have it now for only 11.95 This is a book of poetry and prose that deals with real life issues that all of mankind comes to face. Some of the poems deal with the tenderness of love, while others s
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Takes me back to an income tax evasion case in the late 1950s in Federal Court. A farmer in Illinois brought into the courtroom his barn door as evidence. It seems that's where he marked down the number of bags of feed he bought each year for his cattle. Very believable. Case thrown out. Carvings win.
Nostalgia. Love it. And at my age, I've got heaps to dredge up.
Hell's bells, come to think of it, I'm a piece of nostaglia myself!
Confession, dear Kimmy. I love everything you write. Don't stop now. You're on a roll!
Love ya,
Richard
XoXo,
Hugs
Lena
I don't remember where it was but mine were carved in the hay loft somewhere but that old barn is gone but my memory is forever.
Thanks Kimmy
Love
Chrissy
Light and Wisdom ...
love Tinka
Beautiful write,
God Bless,
Lew
Wonderful offering, Kimmy
love and peace, Carole~
Blessings,
Joyce Bowling
Rusty
It will be like trying to make a mute bronze bell.
Kimmy will be Kimmy, always.
Georg
Blessings,
~Linda
George
Fee
My name shows. I carved it on the outside of the old oat bin. It can get quite noisy out here.