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Dec 05, 2024
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Scottish picknick!
When the wind blows
the purple heather sways.
Scottish girls and boys
share thoughts and feelings
out in the fields.
Lying down in verdant pastures
where sheep graze silently.
Thier destinys unfold
as they gracefully
wipe perspiration from thier brow.
Children will be sired
by expectant mums and dads.
No one knows there aspirations
no not even thier gods.
Walking to thier homes
with vibrant inspirations.
The truth unfolds as with their lives.
About This Poem
Last Few Words: It would be so fine to feel so free. Open fields and pristine lives. I have two sons and two daughters who no longer will confide in me. It dosen't really matter, They're lost to broken lives.
Review Request Direction:
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Review Request Intensity: I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft
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