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A huge old barn sitting alone
overgrown fields all around
its foundation made of local stone
with hand-hewed framework that's still sound.

The once red roof now rusty brown
with faded "See Rock City " white.
One rolling door has fallen down
the other is leaning toward the right.

All the siding's bare and gray
save peeling red beneath the eaves
betraying a well kept yesterday
now dilapidation, no one grieves.

My mind sees how it used to be
with loft full of fresh cut hay
verdant pastures far as I could see
with cows or horses in each bay.

But those days are far in the past;
the roof now leaks to loft and stalls.
Who knows how long landmark will last
until one day it leans and falls ?

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Last few words: 
Among the first 5 poems I ever wrote and still being edited lol
Editing stage: 


This one took me right back to the Smoky Mountains where I spent twelve years living way back in. I remember those barns well, and the See Rock City signs.

What a trip~!

Thanks for this one.


"When a pickpocket meets a holy man all he sees are his pockets."

Unknown (at least to me)

I am a bit suprized anybody on site connected with the rock city reference. I'm glad you enjoyed this......scribbler

author comment

'betraying a well kept yesterday
now dilapidation no one grieves'
- sounds a bit like i feel (smile)
love judy

'Each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star,
shall draw the Thing as he sees It, for the God of Things as They are.'
(Rudyard Kipling)

the older I get the more I appreciate other old things. Glad you liked this.........stan

author comment

more likely to write about pizza than pisa lol good of you to come by......stan

author comment

This is another epitome of yours, Stan.

time is the one thing we all must contend with using carefully . Come by any chance you get......stan

author comment
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