Walkers in the Flooded Fields

I had been thinking about making a slight change to how I present a poem and today I decided to cut out much of the explainations of a poem I wrote, especially for a couple of weeks. Bacically I feel the need to test out a cutting out a lot of information I place here. The reason for this is, I felt much has been taking from the poem in question, unless it was needed to further explain the poem.

Another reason is I want to take a few posts with this little change, so I can hopefully find more comments on what the poem was referring to etc. I am not going to say anything what inspired this Poem or what it was actually about, thus if readers wanted to comment on something, this would be an opening where they could make a comment on the poem.

I do hope that folks can understand what I am saying and follow what I am saying. If oflks prefer my waffling or wandering on about what inspired the poem and what took me to that point. I may still state a few points rather than a fast run into the poem.

The Poem

Written in the usual method and rhyming etc. All goes to the reader and what they feel about the poem. Also if readers want a return to the older way, do please let me know in comments.

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((This is the closest image that fits the image for I had for this Poem. All thanks go to AI and its attempt to provide the image I asked for. Thus credit goes there))

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Walkers in the Flooded Fields



Weary walkers wandered, wet with rain
In fields once filled with laughter’s light refrain,
where oaken arms saw summer’s smoke and song,
Now waters whispered, winding wild and strong.


 Together pressed , pacing path by path
Through puddled plains where river wrought its wrath,
A restless river rising, breaking bed
Claiming commons where their footsteps led.


Still voices ventured, veiled in wind and woe,
While gulls and crows in clamorous circles crowed,
Walkers lingered where the feasts had flamed,
And oak in silence shadowed all unnamed.


That barbecue of bygone days was gone,
As embered echoes drowned by drizzling dawn,
For laughter’s light still lingered, faint but true,
As sodden steps sought solid ground anew.


No robin’s roundelay, no lark in flight,
No thrush to thread the thicket lost to night;
Yet beauty brooded, bleak yet strangely fair,
As ruins rose reclaimed by river’s care.


Then breaking banks of cloud let sunlight show,
Silver shafts streaming through the storm-spent sky,
Together still they trod the troubled plain,
And hope held fast beneath the fading rain.







Copyright © Pat Fitzgerald 2025

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ENDING THOUGHTS:

Thank you for following me on my little journey, that is composing or writing poetry. If Life is a journey which we all walk on and my journey in creating Poetry is a journey of it’s own. Which I still learn much on as I write.

At times I experiment on methods or way how I can improve my poetry, therefore getting feed back is always most welcome for such as these.

When I write poetry, some readers may be offended with something within the poetry. I do not write to offend, But such are written for reasons I outline in the posts. Often I miss typos and mistakes when publishing each poem. I correct the moment I discover such mistakes.

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Until next time Slán