The Old Man

[Keith]

drunk as skunks is way way too cliche but it works so i'd say leave em in, they add ambience, the meter wobbles in places. either too long or too short. i've suggest some things but it need a run through by your fair self for the rest. it's a decent light and airy poem about coniston and works okay but i'd have loved to have read more about it's beauty.

Drunk as skunks on bluebird bitter,
fifty years gone in a flicker,
english breakfast clears the heads, breakfasts or head i'd suggest;[b]an english breakfast clears the head and change 'beds' 'bed'[/b]
cleaners poised to make the beds. 'with' in front of cleaners to sort the meter out

The old man calls down our names,
start the ascent in Coniston rain, should it be Coniston's remove "the"
out of breath we pause to glance,
lakeland colours, a fine romance.

Make the summit bold and breathless,
take a bite from left over breakfast,
snow drops in to freeze my knees,
squat down behind the kernels lea.

Swollen tarns that ebb and flow,
crossing when the gushing slows,
calm behind the mountains might,
sorry sun brings welcome light.

Down we plod on farm and field,
chit and chat keep spirits healed,
back for baths and evening naps,
tales of walks and friendly laughs.

Last night so what can you do?
village bound with the rest of the crew,
bellies full and fighting fitter,
drunk as skunks on bluebird bitter.

Thanks Billy I have had a go at this so the edits up, thanks for the comment and crit I am working on something else that deals with lakeland beauty so I will keep this as is. Cheers Keith