Thursday, 9 July 2009

The Kraken Wakes.

(With apologies to Tennyson!)

Behind the logs
the straw and
many scratching hens,
he sleepeth:
tiny beams of watery sun
play on his shadowy sides.
Above him giant cobwebs
hang, weighed down by
rising dust - and swallows,
newly-fledged ,bespoil
his ruddy shell.
Until today.

His giant form is
stirred to life - the
cobwebs break asunder;
the swallows flee.
Then, like the Kraken from the depths,
he surges forth and lumbers
up the yard, steered by
his Commander.

For his hour has come.
The corn lies ripening in the fields
and he, with sharpened blades,
and oiled,
will lay it low.
In roaring he shall rise
and then
at Harvest Home
shall die - his shell
returned to moulder
for another year.


steven said...

hi weaver . . . a funny post with a good poem - no apologies necessary ! and a good pic of the kraken - er combine - on its way out to haul in the corn. is the corn for feed or is it like the sweet corn we can buy here for human consumption? have a peaceful (and hopefully sunny) day. steven

Coastcard said...

A lovely idea. I assume your Kraken has its men, but what of the angels, I wonder...?

HelenMHunt said...

Another great post.

Derrick said...

Hello Weaver,

Don't think I'd like to bump into the monster on a country lane! Let me know when it returns to its lair, to slumber once more.

Reader Wil said...

Good poem, Weaver! The English word "corn" means "grain", doesn't it? After the war the Americans asked Britain what would you need most of all? Britain answered: "corn!",meaning grain. The Americans thought maize, and sent loads of maize to Britain, which didn't know what to do with it, but then invented popcorn. The American word for grain is wheat. It's a funny story, demonstrating that Br.English is quite different from Am.English in some respects.

Dave King said...

I agree with Steven. No apology necessary. I thoroughly enjoyed reading it. I could take a few more posts like that.

Gramma Ann said...

Who would have thought to write a poem about a "kraken/combine, but a farmers wife! I enjoyed reading this wonderful fun poem.

Thank you for all your visits to my blog and the lovely comments you always leave.


Arija said...

Ah, the loyal grim reaper, every dog has his day, and obviously this is his, and to have odes sung to his worth must make his cup of oil run over.

Denise Burden said...

Another entertaining and original post. Never thought farm machinery could be so inspiring - until now!
Also, love the new header.

jinksy said...

Greta fun, but a far cry from the Thomas Hardy picture of farming! May the Kraken produce no nightmares whilst awake.

The Weaver of Grass said...

Two nations divided by a common language! Yes corn here means wheat basically. Maize we call maize.
Most farmers in our area only grow corn for cattle feed or to sell to feed merchants - this is not an arable area.
Thank you for the kind comments - glad you enjoyed my stab at a bit of bastardised Tennyson.

Heather said...

That's a monster - a far cry from the machines I remember in the field next to granny's all those years ago. I love your poem.

Leenie said...

I love it! A little spoof of a great sonnet works very well for the behemoth grain combine arising to do its job.

Best wishes for a bounteous harvest.

Cloudia said...

How wonderful!
You have great "eyes" to see this reality and we love sharing it with you.


Comfort Spiral

Totalfeckineejit said...

God bless massey Ferguson for their fine machinery (i remember scythes)and God bless you weaver for your splendiferous blog :)

UKBob said...

Hi Weaver, I like to see the combines working in the fields although it sort of brings it home to you how time it pressing on. Thanks for the comment on my work book blog and from what you say I'm wondering if you know about which is my other blog and one that I've been adding to while away from my work book if you're interested. Bob

Kim said...

Oh, this is too funny! I'm smiling away at this post Pat, hahahaha!

Raph G. Neckmann said...

I really enjoyed this, Weaver! I love to think of the combine waiting slumbering for the harvest!

Penny said...

Oh weaver, I know all about it! Not much change from in the different hemispheres, although I have to say we dont harvest any more, too many cows these days we buy it in.
Love your use of words.
Oh and here in Oz we use the word grain, although more commonly wheat or barley or whatever the variety.

Pamela Terry and Edward said...

"cobwebs break asunder".....

DJ said...

I was led to your blog this morning, and was rewarded with this delightful creation in words!
What a wonderful mind you have to share...
More, please...

The Weaver of Grass said...

TFE remembering scythes???? We still use a scythe sometimes (not for a whole field I hasten to add!)
My father in law used to go round with the scythe after the combine had been round (even in his eighties) cutting off any bits that remained standing. I remember binders and threshing machines (and all the horrible dust and seeds that got through your clothes and next to your skin whatever your wore.) Thank goodness for modern machinery I say.

dubois said...

It looks a bit naked without its front on.