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Open Poetry #34
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The Miller
| Open Poetry #34 |
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The Miller |
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SPIRIT Senior Member
since 2002-12-29
Posts 1745California Desert |
The Miller I sit here I am quite content, even perhaps happy sitting on this bench, outside of this building, ‘The Olde Mill Teahouse’. None of you can see me, you might feel me as I brush against you, as I stroll around the building, and you will look to see who is there, but you will see no-one. This lovely teahouse was once a mill, a hardworking mill, and I was the miller as was my da’ and his da’ before him, and his da‘ before him. The teahouse marker they have like a tavern sign, excepting I notice, much to my mortification that the bloody picture is of a Belgium mill. It's a beaut of a mill, no doubt about that, but not one of England… and for sure not my mill. T'is like a slap in my face. No-one else would notice it for to them a windmill is just that…a windmill. But I know! For the windmills are all so individual, no two the same… always classified, by those who worked them, as female… My mill was by far the finest, she was my baby, my life, my heritage. It was an important job, that of the miller. We ranked third in power, the lord of the manor was number one, whilst the parish priest, God help’us, was in the second spot, then the miller… After all the villagers depended on us for their daily bread. The miller's job came with much responsibility, and was not without danger. We had to be so aware of the wind and its direction at all times… To remain vigilant was of great importance, so you could hear me singing away all day to keep myself awake. The poor old windmill, she was only able to withstand frontal attacks of the mighty wind, she was so vulnerable… sudden squalls and wind shifts were just a plain buggar - for sure. Of course lighting strikes and fire, didn’t help, they were always posers of danger. I took me a wife, but t’was a lonely life in very many ways, with long hours and much hard work. The miller also...unfortunately, had a real bad reputation for being a little dishonest, and I must say, my da’ was… and it was inherent in me. I have to admit as to ‘hanging the cat’, many times, where I kept part of the farmer’s grain…for myself. I was lucky I was not found out. I did get caught though at thumbing the bloody scales. Stupid mistake… not the thumbing, the getting caught. They put me in the village stocks and threw rotten eggs and vegetables at me, and me and my family were banished …we lived like gypsies, taking odd jobs for a measly pittance wherever we could, for sure it foreshortened my life. I loved this mill, I was raised here, lived most of my life here, and even after some hundred and sixty years I still visit… You must have heard of John Constable, an artist…he once sat down near my mill to paint it. I talked to him, enjoyed his company, for he knew a lot about the mills. Was with him I shared my lunch of bread and cheese, we then enjoyed a washer of beer, for to satisfy the thirst. He was a fine gentleman, and appeared as unappreciated as I felt that I was. What was really funny was that we were born in the same year of 1776, and died within two months of each other. They did well in preserving this mill…I love it and deep inside I am still - the miller, as was my da’ and his da’ before him, and his da‘ before him. |
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Magnus
since 2001-10-10
Posts 14135South Carolina, USA |
This is great, much enjoyed the journey through time and toils.... Though quaint, they are a treat, aren't they? |
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RSWells Member Elite
since 2001-06-17
Posts 2533 |
I can tell you did some research on this one and suspect inspiration may have come from a work of art (a good source) Windmills are cool, too bad there are few spots in the U.S. to make it worth one's while to get their electricity from them. Enjoyed your ghost and now I'm off to the chimney seat with a tankard of mead. |
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passing shadows Member Empyrean
since 1999-08-26
Posts 45577displaced |
wonderful story told from the heart of a ghost |
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Jason Lyle Senior Member
since 2003-02-07
Posts 1438With my darkling |
Nice writing Spirit.You do these long and winding stories well. Jason |
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