Hop picking

Hops hung like the twinkling hokey-cokey dancing raindrops in the early morning sun,
The waft of over brewed tea and camp fire filled the ice cold air,
Clear azure blue sky's silhouetting the oast house like children's paper cutouts,
Old folk coughing through nicotined stained lips, babies in prams crying,
The whistle blows, bins at the ready,
Pick pick pick and pick,
"I don't want to see a single leaf in that there bin me lady"
Jim the pole puller was a bugger when it came to stray leaves getting into the poke,
Bins full, the whistle blows,
The tally man arrives with basket, pencil and pad,
"Cushion em up lads, get the air in-between em, come on, puff em up",
Men and women drinking porter, relaxing with a fag and a laugh,
The whistle blows,
Rain filled boots, drenched coats, dripping hair,
Winds turning the binds into sprinkling showers
"Keep pickin boy, keep on a pickin",
Sore fingers, black hands, rasping binds wrapping around legs,
People moaning, children screaming, babies weeping,
Someone starts to sing,
Wet, cold, tired,
We all sing,
The whistle blows,
Tally up,
Miserable and wet, stinking of chard bonfire,
Walking up the track, bats dipping and diving, bidding their fond farewell,
Home to bed, smelling of hops,
Wonderful hops.




Poetry by JohnJohn
Read 680 times
Written on 2016-08-21 at 20:52

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text


Bibek The PoetBay support member heart!
So beautiful. Loved the way you depicted the hop picking.
2016-08-22