When the wind no longer fans
your fancy flames,
rust will rule your world behind
locks and chains.
Uncle Tree
▼
When the wind no longer fans
your fancy flames,
rust will rule your world behind
locks and chains.
Uncle Tree
▼
Uncle Tree's House 
Great poem. You capture so much in so few words…and images. Keep it up.
Thank you very much! 🙂 Glad you liked. I will.
I really, really like your ability to get across a feeling with so few words. May I share one with you on the same topic?
WINDMILLS
© 2015 Barbara Grace Lake
Imprisoned dragonflies,
Impaled on pillories
Their wind-blown wings
Revolving endlessly
Creating power
So much said with so few words. And the photos are just a perfect accompaniment. Thank you.
How fitting! 🙂 Thank you for sharing, Barbara!
Glad you like my shots and short thoughts. Cheerz, UT
Thank you very much, JoHanna! 🙂 That’s music to my ears.
This is why I like WD40.
LoL! 🙂 me²
An unloved lock and heavy chain, with bare-looking trees in the background … they need to be brought back to life Uncle Tree. P.S. – a skinny person could slide beneath that lock and chain I think.
Love the images and the poem.
Very good UT I like it.
Thank you, Linda! 🙂 I can only bring them fame, I’m afraid.
We all long for permanence, and this scene is forever etched in mind.
“This land is your land, this land is my land…”
Such a nice thought. Too bad we don’t believe it.
Thank you kindly, Lloyd! 🙂 Glad you like this one.
Nice poem. I have a can of oil…
Thank you, Brian! 🙂 I found a few windmills out in the country.
Although, they are rather plain and simple, folks seem to like them.
Thank you, Tanja! 🙂 Bring it on!
I saw a few old windmills out there.
None of them were turning, and it was really windy.
‘…None of them were turning, and it was really windy…’ … such a waste of a wonderful low-tech resource. However, a brilliant poem they did inspire. 😀
No kidding. True that! 🙂 Thank you, Widdershins!
I agree with you Uncle Tree … the rusted lock, the dormant windmill, a sad testament to a another time, a thriving time, now forever lost.
And unfortunately the song just becomes empty words, doesn’t it?
We are living on borrowed time,
and thriving on stolen lands. Aren’t we special?
God would not be too happy with how we are behaving, that’s for sure.
love it!
🙂 Thank you, Janis!
When I’m imprisoned, I hope to stand so tall above it all, and keep my face to the wind.
When it comes to facing the wind and the world,
and weathering all its turmoil,
you, and the cranes, and the windmills are much alike, my friend.
Cheerz to Cinco de Drinko! 😉 Senior Tree