Sunday, July 17, 2011

Sunday Poetry Post

No One Lives Here Anymore

click for larger

Empty Farmhouse
by Jeff Fleming

The farm was abandoned
when the crops failed.

Even the house
is not enough

to draw anyone
way out here.

The apple trees have gone
wild, giving fruit

to the earth
and migrating birds.

One tree, blown over
in a passing storm,

has fallen against
the empty farmhouse,

but still grows strong,
dropping apples

through an open window.
Every fall, the fruit

rots upon the hard-
wood floor,

leaving seeds that struggle
to grow among

abandoned furniture.


  1. From yesterday:

    Jen, hope you are doing better - sometimes we just need to have a good cry and allow ourselves to be down.

    Aw, thanks for the compassion, Dina, but I think you might have confused my post with Janet's. After a super challenging year, I'm finally doing more okay than not lately, and the only thing I've cried about this week was having to pull 3/8 inch of lawn-edger cord (of course I measured it because omg ouch) out of my leg because I was half-assing my way through the yardwork with a half-broken machine. Learned me my lesson, though, heh.

    {{Janet}}, I'm glad the depression hasn't settled in. Lately I keep taking suggestions from that great sage philosopher poet Sting: When the world is running down, you make the best of what's still around... Force a collapse? Fine, we'll go to ground, then rebuild it all mo'betta. And so it goes.

    Hi Jen. Can you hand me some cooler weather?

    I wish! But you are presently sending me your hot and humid weather instead. BOOHISS. It is like Miami out there, ffs. (I hate to think of how much worse the real Miami must be these days, ugh.)

    Big hugs rights backatcha KellyMc. Oh my! How slender the boy is! His svelte form almost slips right from my bearish grasp! ;p

    Nancy makes me blush. Y'all, she is SO NICE, so incredibly lovely and with such comfortable elegance. She is every bit as clever and funny in person as she is on paper/through the tubes. 'Twas a privilege and a pleasure, Ms. Pickard, and I am so glad you enjoyed your time here and got home safe and sound.

    And to today:

    Wow Jim, that poem is like a punch to the gut. The photo seemed pretty at first, then after reading the poem, the house started to look like the clueless main character who is facing the camera and grinning like an idiot while we in the audience watch the velociraptor stalking up silently from behind.

  2. Jen, I didn't check for any raptors, although I've seen eagles on that stretch of the road, but I did check for traffic. I'm not sure how long the house & barns have been empty. That low flat area below the house floods a few times a year. The owners may have just gotten tired of being trapped so frequently.

  3. I should never attempt to post when I am as tired as I was yesterday. Yes, Jen, I was responding to Janet. But I am glad that you are having a good year! And may it continue to improve with no more whiplash by cords or other thingies!

    Love the picture and poem. So very sad but somehow the fruit gives me hope. Still something good going on.

    Waves to all.

  4. Ans since I couldn't get the email follows up checked, posting again to do that.

  5. OMG it is hot here, and it's only going to get hotter Sorry Jen, I know it just keeps heading past Andi and Jim over to you. And yes the humidity is a killer. I feel like I should grow gills (but I think I say that every summer). But you got to meet Nancy, how fun! On the other hand, she's sending the hot weather to me in the first place. Just sayin ... :)

    Great poem choice Jim. There used to be an old farmhouse that we passed every year on our way to the lake in MN - we watched it slowly decay over a 20 year period and then one year it was gone. Somebody bought the land and tore it down. And built a giant garage. No house that we can see, just a giant garage building. Weird. I miss the old tumble down house.

  6. I always wonder what the story is behind an abandoned house: why the family left, did someone die, did they move and just never get back...? Abandoned houses are so sad. :(

    Happy Sunday, y'all. Wish I could send our gorgeous weather to the hot and humid parts of the country!

  7. Having trouble deciding if I find this poem depressing or uplifting. I'm leaning towards a sign of nature's endurance, imagining an apple tree sprouting in the rotten hardwood flooring, growing up through the (inevitable) holes in the roof which is letting the sun filter in (similar to Andi's ray photos). So, uplifting. :-)