Parking
I have this memory.
I am walking across a field
a squelching field
a field that would suck your wellingtons off
the wind is a wet dish cloth
slapping my face
cow pats are dotted like landmines.
I love the countryside
but I don’t love this countryside
with its barbed wire fences
its ragged ditches
its baleful cows.
In the far corner of the field
I come across the rusty shell
of an old Mercedes
abandoned by the farmer
after one last muddy trip to the market,
and I’ve been thinking lately
I should take some ideas I have
some long held, unexamined beliefs
and park them in the far corner of a field,
top of the list being
the irrational notion
that somehow
against all odds,
we would all continue
to live, forever.
It’s all about metaphor over at dverse today, check out Bjorn’s excellent post.
This poem originally appeared in Cyphers Magazine.
Stopdraggingthepanda 
I like the thought of parking beliefs in a corner of the field. They should keep the Mercedes company.
LikeLike
Thanks Frank!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I can imagine the mind being a field littered with half-baked ideas, some of which are easier to swallow than the truth, so corralling them to keep them out of circulation definitely would be a good idea.
LikeLike
Yep, I have a collection of half baked ideas, and few that are fully baked! 😊
LikeLiked by 1 person
This stuck out to me:
“I love the countryside
but I don’t love this countryside”
Not sure exactly why. Because it won’t give you the answer you need but know can never be?
LikeLike
It’s more that sometimes the countryside can be utilitarian as opposed to pastoral!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Your images take me back to farm days! …cow pats are dotted like landmines.
LikeLike
Step carefully!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ha Ha! You are right!
LikeLike
I walked across that field, the one that would suck your wellingtons off, Jim, with cow pats dotted like landmines – in County Meath in Ireland over 38 years ago! It’s possible I left a few ideas parked there too. I feel heartache for the baleful cows in your poem, having to graze near a rusted Mercedes.
LikeLike
That is uncanny Kim, the memory is of a visit to the farm of my wife’s in laws, near Slane, County Meath!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I know Slane. I went to a concert at Slane Castle years ago when we lived in Navan in 1980, and then moved to Moynalty near Kells in 1981.
LikeLike
Small world!
LikeLiked by 1 person
No doubt the Mercedes has tales to tell … and no one to listen since the cows have moooooved in. (Sorry, couldn’t resist!)
LikeLike
Hard for that Mercedes to remain mooootivated!
LikeLike
What a profound write!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Linda, much appreciated<
LikeLike
I really love how you used the less appealing part of nature (or at least the countryside) and tie to the conclusion in the end… maybe it’s when with life like this the thought of our own death seems less threatening?
LikeLike
Thank you Bjorn!
LikeLike
Excellent use of metaphor Jim! Creatively conceived, and very effective! A littered field of a mind…
LikeLike
Thanks Rob, much appreciated, hope your eye problem is improving…JIM
LikeLike
A very pleasing darkness, Jim. I particularly like the recollection giving rise to the awareness of death, and the description of that recollection with all its symbolism. This is a wonderful interpretation of memento mori.
LikeLike
Thanks Steve, much appreciated!
LikeLiked by 1 person