The Beast of Burden - a Poem
The Work of the Farmer and His Beast: farming fields for rice plantation
"The Beast of Burden"
I am one of the chosen
They call the Beast of Burden.
It took a man’s moment’s ounce of sleep
For hard work has to defy time
The abruptness from a resting moon
Stretched his arms to the cock’s pounding breast
Where knuckles pain and night wasn’t its longest.
Out in the fields isn’t all brutal
I’d like to see the light of a new day
Into the misty fog, rays spread pass through
With glittering earrings the swordgrass wear
I smell the freshness of verde in the air.
Orchids beautifully flirting, praising the sky
I’d be fortunate for a night’s pond of mud
A smell that you can’t easily conceive
The forgoing hours under the fiery hue
Yet I’m tolerant for the work I have to do.
I tell my master the joy is in my hooves
His in his land we engineer to survive
Only my time would come to perish
If to “slaughter” fills his dreams like flood
Then, I’d be in my own pool of blood.
The shift is now, I humbly rejoin my master
Sink our feet into the backbreaking earth
Quietly, peacefully, only murmurs of dreams
That sort of thing when his lips pray for rain
I hear, I obey, and I willingly give all for grain.
© coffeegginmyrice . July 02.2012