By Christine Swanberg
Author and Poet
This poem was sent in by Colin Slater. It is about abandoned, run-down barns, silos and farms that line the stateline area, sad reminders of a better time gone by.
Gaunt and forlorn they stand against the country sky. The empty sentinels in the countryside.
Guardians who once were home to families and laughing children and their dogs and ponies.
Now they stand vacant and forsaken in a surreal landscape.
Will the laughs, giggles and joy ever return to the house?
Father has been gone for a while — “seeking work,” he says, and Mother is doing her best.
We and priory and even the June corn is praying, with its leaves straight up, that kids can bring their love and laughter back to the farmhouse, that lonely Sentinel.
Colin Slater is a semi-retired salesperson, formerly associated with the Rockford Entertainment League. He lives in Belvidere, Ill.
Christine Swanberg has published about 300 poems in 70 journals and anthologies. She is available for mentoring through Jane’s Stories Foundation. Part of her mentoring is suggesting possible journals. Her books include Who Walks Among the Trees with Charity (Wind Publishing, Kentucky), The Red Lacquer Room (Chiron Publishing, Kansas), The Tenderness of Memory (Plainview Press, Texas), Slow Miracle (Lakeshore Publishing, Illinois), Invisible String (Erie St., Illinois), Bread Upon the Waters (Windfall, Wisconsin) and Tonight on this Late Road (Erie St., Illinois).
From the Sept. 19-25, 2012, issue