Tuesday, June 16, 2015

The corn came marching


He knew that things were well
he knew that things were good
until the corn came marching
out from Birnam Wood

The wanderer had plainly told him
all life would be well and good
unless the corn came marching
out from Birnam Wood

He stole his brother’s farm
he stole his father’s food
and still no corn came marching
out from Birnam Wood.

He turned widows out from houses
and orphans from their rooms
and laughed at the corn not marching
out from Birnam Wood.

Interest he squeezed and loans he sucked
from neighbors until they cried;
the corn did not come marching
out from Birnam Wood.

How long, O Lord, how long,
Have these evils you withstood?
And still no corn came marching
Out from Birnam Wood.

The more he controlled, the more he gained
and taken more he would,
until the day the wanderer came
in a bus out of Birnam wood.

And he saw, at last, corn marching,
corn marching to where he stood.
In rows the corn came marching
out from Birnam Wood.

Tweetspeak Poetry has a poetry and photo prompt based on the picture above. Actually, there is a choice of prompts. Visit the site and see what you might do.


Photograph by Robb North, Creative Commons, via Flickr.

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