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As we prayed for you
home in the green fields
of rolled hay
and thatched cottages
you bent, prayed for us
in the dry, barren dark.

As the land dies
and gives hope for now
so we too
are forced to give up
and prat for others
falling to the ground.

Winter knows no mercy
to the living green autmun
just as they
those who did this too
know nothing of grace
but they did bring you home

to the green autumn fields

for Ken Bigley

Ask not what you can do to poetry, but what poetry can do to you.

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The following comments are for "The Green Autumn Fields"
by londongrey

Hi Alex,
This is so nice to have part of you back, your words, kind, gentle and holding truth are so much welcomed, I know by others, but I welcome them back...

2nd Stanza, "prat" for this a typo, or perhaps I am misunderstanding your word.

3rd Stanza, "autmun" I am sure is a typo...

And these do NOT take away any beauty of this Alex.

This is a very beautiful read Alex. Like a breath of fresh air.....Thanks so much for this.

My best to you,

( Posted by: Dareva [Member] On: October 9, 2004 )

I am glad you are posting new poems again, but this autumn poem is very sad with its tatched cottages and the impending winter. And prayers, how these poems that talked about prayers really haunt me, as it seemed they were not powerful enough to conquer all the acts of parting and falling.

Very beautiful poem, Alex.

( Posted by: peterpaulino [Member] On: October 9, 2004 )

Autumn Fields
Alex, Welcome Home!!! It is wonderful to have your beautiful words back! You were missed!

Nae :0)

( Posted by: nae411 [Member] On: October 9, 2004 )

Thanks for reminding me that winter is on it's way ;) Well done =P


( Posted by: strangedaze [Member] On: October 9, 2004 )


I read that piece you posted a week agao; the one about how the kidnappers were planning to release him. I saddened to see that he was killed. I grieve for his family. I can't begin to imagine their loss.

I also enjoyed your poem. The first time I flew into the UK, I landed at RAF Mildenhall, near Newmarket and Bury St. Edmunds. It was early one April morning in 1989 - I remember the day because the following day was my birthday. I was turning 19, and this was to be the first birthday that wouldn't spend with family. As the plane approached for landing, I looked out of my window to see the thatched roofs of cottages, along with row houses neatly wedged together on either side of narrow streets. I also noticed the big, open fields of green. Football pitches, public parks, and beautifully manicured cemeteries. The British do love their open spaces -don't they? Of course, after living there for six years, I've come to see Britain as a very modern, fairly urban nation. Still, that first impression is held with fondness. I thank you for conjuring the memory for me.

( Posted by: rajengineer [Member] On: October 9, 2004 )

Your poem brought back memories of an short interlude in England nearly 6 years ago. It was autumn ,and i can still picture the trees draped in so many hues ranging from russet to brown.What i found most remarkable was the way the skies were suffused ,during your all-too-brief days,with an almost mystically golden light.

( Posted by: RJKT [Member] On: October 11, 2004 )

Thanks everyone, glad to hear from you all, and so many experiences recounted!! I knoe RAF Mildenhall in fact one of the properties I manage is named after it.

Thanks again.

Alex :-)

( Posted by: londongrey [Member] On: October 19, 2004 )

Autumn is such a moving, visceral season. It inspires us endlessly. I just wrote an autumn piece, myself. This is just lovely. I like it very much.

( Posted by: GibsonGirl [Member] On: October 22, 2004 )

The Green Fields of Autumn
Your work is quite moving. The meaning that I get from this is that the person praying in the dark came home in a casket. It reminds me of an old country song titled "The Green, Green Grass Of Home"

( Posted by: Dfortyseven [Member] On: May 18, 2005 )

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