Jane Air performs 'yellow bellies' at the Wolds Words festival / T.E.D event 2016

My first poetry reading in front of an audience of around 60. 

The Yellow Bellies of Lincolnshire poem by Jane Air

The Yellow Bellies of Lincolnshire

There is a spring mistiness in the air,

A yellow mellowness everywhere...

A crowd of daffodils

Dancing on the hills

Tufts of wild primroses 

In pale yellow cascading 

From high to low

Stars of selandine sparkling

In woodland glade

Dandelions glowing in 

Ditches and dips

Flowing carpets 

Of cowslips and oxlips

The soft buttery yellow

Of a buttercup meadow

And the bold yellow gold

Of marsh marigold

Yellow yellow everywhere

Everywhere I behold

But none compare

To the full on glare

Of oil seed rape

Of which the eye cannot escape

Bloated and consumed with this yellow bloom

Stretching out as far as the eye can see

A sea of yellow, as yellow as yellow can be

Skirting every lane and alley

Draping every hill and valley

Swathing every ripple and fold

Swelling every rolling belly

Of the Lincolnshire Wolds

Its seeds have taken root 

In amongst the fruit trees

In a church orchard of crab apple trees

For every year there reappears

A towering mass of yellow spears 

Grabbing and pinching space                

From Queen Anne's lace

The yellow fingers of rape wraparound 

Waste ground lingering around

Pockets of poppies and where 

Other wildflowers are usually found

Led along the water's edge

Of the river bank ledge

Beds of rape have spread

And now outflank the sedge

Every country road hedge overflows

And glows with the yellow rows

Of rapeseed wildly sowed

Fields of wheat, corn and maize

Embroidered and laced into a yellow maze 

Like a patchwork bedspread 

Stitched with a single yellow thread

And even where cows mingle, graze

And traipse the seeds of rape disperse

And burst into a towering blaze

Like a pernicious weed or wildflower

There is no doubt it grows about 

With such rapacious speed

And tenacious power

Its tentacles spreading like wildfire

Breeding, bleeding, feeding

Into every scene a yellow gleam

Like a trip into a mono-yellow surreal dream

For crisps, 

Cakes, 

Curries

Pastries, 

Biscuits,

Bio fuel,

Slow to boil, frying oil

Cream and margarine

Jane Air 2016 copyright

Poem posted at The Crispy Biscuit tearoom, Louth

Posted online 13 May 2016

Early version of this poem has been published by Forward Poetry in 2014 and revised version to be published by Forward Poetry in 'The Great British Write-off'.

http://authorsden.com/janeair
I will be reading this poem at the Trinity Centre, Louth on the 18th October 2016 as part of the Wolds Words festival.

Lincolnshire poet, Jane Air, in fields of rapeseed...

Jane Air in fields of rapeseed.
Photos taken by Luke Belecco.

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