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New Harvest Poems

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The Harvest Part 2 by Martin, Jeff
Health Harvest by Dillenbeck, Gerald
Love Harvest by Kantor, Jeff
Good Harvest by Asuncion, Bernard F.
Harvest by Lotts, Connor
HARVEST MOON by ALLISON, JAN
Harvest Moonlight by Roper, Eve
HARVEST DONE by Talbot, Mick
Harvest Hearts by St. John, Sian
celestial harvest moon by Loo, Laura

View all new Harvest Poems

The Best Harvest Poems

Details | Harvest Poem |

Love Passing By

When the crimson rose has faded
And our day at last is done;
In the forest dark and shaded
Blows the tempest, dims the sun.
When the night holds us together
Shall forgiveness mend the past
Will despair bring sunny weather 
And heal our hearts at last?

If we hide within the shadows
Will you stay here close to me;
Will we walk forgotten meadows
Or sail a foreign sea?
In vain the hour must reap
What we gathered in the sun;
And love's harvest now will weep
For the battle never won.

Within the world's disgrace
In the hour of Nevermore;
Will there be another race
To a far-off fabled shore?
We promised love tomorrow
We preen with pride today
Now pride and love will borrow
The tears of yesterday.

Our pride we now confess it
Is a sin that couldn't last;
Our passion if we kiss it
Is like a dream now passed.
While fragrance scents the garden
And the misty moon rides high;
The wind whispers a pardon
When love goes passing by.

Details | Harvest Poem |

Hidden Beauty

Hidden beauty resides not in the grace like charms
Of coy smiles 
Painted across a gentle Madonnas face.
Nor is she vested within the chastened vows
Of saintly knights; encased Great-Helm:
Thus maketh the pale maidens meek pulse
To so fervently race!

She neither dwells in fair Michelangelos alabaster statues,
Or famed masterpieces hung upon hushed galleries
Hallowed walls.
Never does she proudly boast from-on-high
In lofty ivory towers,
Or brazenly shout across yawning grandiose marble halls!

For she will not be found in royal palaces,
Or sprawling estates of greatly lauded piles;
She is not to be found in ancient cathedrals -
Or exalted from their most sacred holy aisles!

She will not be found in hidden empires in brave new worlds
Frontiered by far flung foam washed shores;
Nor found prowling echoing dusty bank vaults -
If all the worlds bankers
Were to throw open all of their bolted cold steel doors!

For hidden beauty knows all the crafts and wisdoms
Of learned mens most subtle and tricky arts:
And cares not a jot, or gives a damn,
For all the poets and their foolish sentimental hearts!

                            But.....

Perhaps she shyly glowers inside a sun struck morn -
Her stealing lips simmering upon the dew kissed dawn;

Perhaps she wantonly flirts alongside a babbling brook -
Where sweet Virgil, Her, for a Muse mistook;

Perhaps she frequents the flowery paths of verdant pasture -
With all their lush, vibrant, unassuming rapture;

Perhaps you may find her in the dappled shades -
In and amongst the streaming glades;

Perhaps she traipses idly through heavens lights -
Of beached harvest moons and star tilted nights.

                            Or.....

Perhaps she briefly flickers across sizzling lightening strikes -
Accompanying thunderous cannonades of symphonic rolling might;

Perhaps she sometimes ignites the drifting tallgrass plains -
Glistening within fleeting rainbows blazing an arc over sparkling rains;

Perhaps she is in the gulf filled roar of stormy headlands -
Whose pounding seas smash and grind the sheering cliffs to sands;

Perhaps she burns across diamond ice in glacial mountains high -
Where frozen snows reach sharply upwards to rip open the azured sky;

Perhaps she slumbers in impenetrable greening forests deep -
Lain down with the hunted grey wolf...safe at last in contented sleep!

                            For.....

I am the glint rippling upon the gleam -
The tumbling cryptic flashing only partly seen;

I am the eternal flame that crackles in the grate -
The enigmatic, indecipherable, most profound innate;

I am the paradox within the intrigue -
That does so contrive but does not deceive;

I am the quantum within the curled up string -
The grain of truth from which all half-truths spring.

I am all these indefinable moments and much, much more...
which all of your befuddled senses are resigned to grapple with - 
Whereupon to set such store!

                            So.....

Content yourself and make not the mistake
To assuredly set me aside to thus debate.
For i am beyond the conjectures of a mere mortal mind,
As by accidental-consequential reaction...i cannot be denied!

                            For "Hidden Beauty".....

Once freed from Pandoras box upon this spinning coil:
To fire and play upon your enchanted thoughts - and forever foil!!

Details | Harvest Poem |

NEVER TO BE MINE


Not with my arms but with a heart 
that blesses your reveries, may peace reside
within your chest... is it possible to love you
less? Perhaps allow the sun to brush your hair
in the luminescence of dawn?
Even autumn envies you as white light
moves with your scent and possesses
your laughter never to be mine again in times
of harvest or falling rain…
and from stars above, may your eyes
remember our blades of grass 
while I half-close the damp field of memorials
creaking on the burial of a resting place
that finds me kneeling, wailing, asking how time
can drown our adventures much too soon... 
 
as I stumble upon this cruel, bruised night.



             ~
Contest  No. 410 of Brian Strand 
Re-post 3/16/2018

Details | Harvest Poem |

Blow sweet Breeze

With the turning of the green
the fevered hues engulf my soul
rich radiant reds glistening in the sun
as my heart gleams with memories
of the solemn words that fall from
your angelic lips.
The ornate orange and dynamic yellows
come to life
like those sparkling flecks dancing
inside your autumn eyes. Oh my heart
my heart, rest my heart.
Breathless the breeze blows a subtle scent
of sweets from the pink flowing Amaryllis.
Blow sweet breeze blow  off into the night
and on your wings I plant my kiss. A loving kiss
filled with the finest fruits of my harvest like the
finest bottle of red served on the terrace overlooking
the Grande Canal in Venice under a moonlit sky.
Blow sweet breeze blow and onto her veranda swirl
swirl gently into her palatial palace and wrap my love
firmly upon her waiting cheek.

Details | Harvest Poem |

As fields become barren

What has become of me?
Like a madman laughing in the rain,
wandering through fields of barley,
where ghosts whisper my name.

Hesitantly venturing forward,
reluctant to turn back,
loved ones desperately hold my hand.
Time is no longer a friend of mine.
I'm aware this path shall be my last,
but I'm smiling - satisfied,
knowing the pain will end.

Reminiscing seasons gone by,
memories are like rose petals,
softening each step -
my mind is at peace knowing
thorns can't cut me any more.

Images flash by
my first kiss, my last tear,
words spoken, words lost in silence,
and how the wind danced at sunset
illuminating golden crops.

Birds sing songs of goodbye,
tomorrow there will be no sunrise.
My heart will never again
harvest upon nature's rewards.

Scarecrows watch over barren fields,
suffocated by absent hands.
As each breath becomes shorter,
my soul prepares to depart.

But I'm lost in thought, wondering:

Will it be celestial lullabies,
or dancing with the devil?

Simple Musings
Silent One
2 January 2018

Details | Harvest Poem |

In Purple Fields We Dance

  Stay a little longer

come closer to my heart

Breathe dew breeze  on my neck's nape

do not yet depart

Play for me bagpipe music

Blindfold all my starving fears

Let the dulcet tones of your voice

give us back those harvest years

Make  of the citrus moon a ballroom

Hold  me firmly from both hands

Lift me  high to touch the star-sky

Show me how young peasants dance 

Let my soothing fingers trail 

across your caloused  sun -soaked skin

In purple fields Come chase me

in that place our souls have been

Take me away with you

where this world is out of sight

Where unspoken thoughts and heartbeats

are enough to blaze the night.

Details | Harvest Poem |

Here, Again: The Autumn Equinox

Written for the Avebury Gorsedd, 24th September 2016  
I wish you well...

I’m here, again…
Come riding in, upon the western wave
My hair all wove with golden leaves, my breast
As pale as moonlight on a hidden grave
And all the sins of summer long confessed

I come, again…
In sweeping skirts, with white swan feathers strewn
To brush the summer dust from weary grass
Make ash of aspen, damp the flame of noon
Before the frost freeze water into glass 
 
I bring, to you…
Windfallen apples, berries from the hedge
Long shadows on the barrows, and the chalk
Wild winds to stir the willows and the sedge
And mist, and myth, down every path you walk

I’m here, again…
The promise of the harvest to fulfil
The energy of autumn, streaming through
The swirling springs that spiral round the hill
To drench the land in red and russet hue

I come, again…
Between the longest day and shortest night
To fill the blood and marrow of your bones
With all the orange glory of the light
Before the dark descend upon the stones

I bring, to you…
A cornucopia of ripened fruit
Dark juices of the vine in bottles bright
To nourish soul and body, to transmute
Your thought to dream, your dream to second sight

For I am She…
Am Autumn writ, in every field and tree
Am mistress of the Owl and running Hare
So yield unto my kiss, and blesséd be
And dance with me, oh Druid, if you dare…

@ Gail Foster 23rd September 2016

Details | Harvest Poem |

I AM


I am...

The dark side of your harvest moon;
The song of love that's sung too soon;
Although it's sung for you.

The last bus home, that you've just missed;
The fading dream when lovers kissed;
For love can be untrue.

The wind that whistles in the wires;
The smoke that rises from the fires,
To vanish in the air.

The letter, read, then thrown away;
The stone, unturned beside the way.
Well, life is rarely fair.

The hill to climb, that's much too steep;
The waters, still, but far too deep;
The gambit you declined.

The captive bird that you set free;
The driftwood on the open sea.
Yes, fate can be unkind.

All of this I am, and more;
The nearly man, outside your door.
I am... I am... I am.

Details | Harvest Poem |

Ode to Autumn

Earth’s sphere of fire bids adieu to me

As dying embers gleam across the sea

In rare hues reflected by autumn trees,

Swirling in motion with October’s breeze.



I feel the joy this season has to share

In golden harvest that the branches bear,

And I am thankful for this blessed year,

For divine abundance I share so dear.



The sun and moon take on a special glow

As thunder clouds move swiftly with the flow.

Yes, autumn coaxes feelings to revive,

Those mem’ries of past seasons still alive.



When autumn spreads her dress of lacey frost

I know, in breathless beauty, I’ll be lost.



© Connie Marcum Wong

Details | Harvest Poem |

A Crown of Thorns

1
Insanity has its own wellspring and demise.
There is no better place to hide than between coils
of convoluted grey-white matter which can't recoil.
Mind has no leering lips to scorn or show surprise 
as ungoverned, the ancient demon-dancers rise.
The traitorous bits, which cut with Brutus’ red fang,
have no regard for the womb from which they sprang.
They seek dominion; they care not for your cries.
Crazed, their freedom paid for on the rack, how they sang
of anything, of windigos’, and warriors winged 
of fresh flesh beneath a gibbous moon's harangue, 
where those in sanity beneath their blankets cringed.
Night terrors sweat the sheets of the weak, as fear sprang,
a ripened, musky-scent arose from those unhinged.
2
A ripened, musky-scent arose from those unhinged
cloaked in mirrored, morose, magic; the mind a foil,
the heart, the soul, the sunny days, caste down, embroiled; 
destined to languish convulsed in the depth of coil.
Brightness, so dimmed, is lost within a rancid soil,
left to meet horned demons all but unarmed, alone, 
no company except the mirrored self-entombed,
no bliss state, no ripening sweetness to uncoil
a compost heap of bitter memories, atone ...
atone, little mother, well-used wife, wander now,
seeking ever seeking, yet finding no one home,
insanity wakened, waits, patiently endows ... 
empty days and nights, the infrequent sound of om,
cuddling the traitorous bits, shooing brighter dreams roused.
3
Cuddling the traitorous bits, shooing brighter dreams roused,
the teeth of dogged night rise-up, they breed turmoil.
Deep within the sleeping mind of men, sorrows roil.
Abandonment, disloyalty, hatred espoused,
all shriek to the traitor, the night arouses. 
Niggardly night, loath to lose ground within the dome
of blanched white, gray matter, within this skull of bone,
delights in the sorrowful detail night houses.
Insanity licks raw the salted wound entombed, owned.
"What could we be?" the ego cries to he or she.
"What would we be?" the windigo screams but, “alone.”
On, on, they chatter in the carapace, they breed, 
spreading dark matter, for they've no chaperone,
no friend to stay the brutal cousins, so mislead. 

4
No friend to stay the brutal cousins so mislead,
so in darkness, fear and hatred spread on fertile soil.
Yet, self-hatred shields its sharpened claws, as day uncoils
filling the breach with bright creations, dark concedes, 
and dims the room while manic laughter recedes.
A sunrise bows through prism-glass and colors swell
a lighter laughter comes, newborn to dwell.
Hands that once drew only blood, now tune bent reeds                        
of green, blades of springtime grass within the dell;
where larks sing and long lost lovers dare to reunite, 
no mention made of darkness or the depth of hell,
for sanity has cast a lighter stage this night.                       
Daybreak suspends the demon-dance upon the fell,
now, fairies prance in pastures high, and verse delights.
5 
Now, fairies prance in meadows high, and verse delights
her fancy takes a softer turn at his behest,
with buttercups, in a Fairy Ring, they coalesce,
and shine the golden glow beneath a chin of white.
With the talent of a troubadour, love does strum
upon desire's strings the raging beast is culled
as coy love songs and  sweet lullabies emerge from
the hidden depths of mind where sanity is mulled.
With the talent of a troubadour love does strum
upon strings of desire the fearful beasts are culled 
as coy love songs and sweet lullabies emerge from
the stygian depth where her frail sanity is mulled.
How long will harmony dance to love's blissful hum
Will dark's whine wake, disturb, insanity so lulled? 
6 
Will dark's whine wake, disturb, insanity so lulled? 
A scent of jasmine fills the air with swarming gnats.
Her covered ears belay the sound of feral cats
yet, huddled in his sheltering arms, her pain is dulled.
Dulled, but not waylaid, raging, she becomes unglued
She starts to rock, to whimper, and then, cry out- loud
begging for the dev'lish tide to leave, as he vowed,
renting strands of flaxen hair from her small skull.
Torn, he watches as she fades within a shroud,
a witless waif, bedeviled by the harvest moon.
He had to leave; he could not stay beneath this cloud
ever waiting for this, her omnipresent doom.
His love had its limits and yet, he was not proud,
Oh, he could not stay and watch her be consumed.

7

Oh no, he could not stay and watch her be consumed,
to have his pleasant memories of ardor's bloom
be marred by images of her so poorly groomed. 
No, never would he stay to see her be consumed.
One morn he left, his sum was not what she'd presumed. 
And, she sat in the rocker by the door unfazed,
her bowed lips o'er cast and her eyes o'er glazed, 
alive, but not, her nascent sanity entombed.
Death had come, death of the mind, his metal now assayed
he ran from old memories, as each thought enticed.
Their first tryst 'neath jasmine vines vanished in a haze.
Was love's reward, a sweet repast, mania's disguise?
Would true love have held the course where sanity betrayed,
insanity has its own wellspring, and demise.

First Published Five Poetry Magazine 2014

Details | Harvest Poem |

...."The Wedding At Dreamendon" ~

Dressing the ancient stars amid their anthem weddings attire....

The universe anxiously anticipating these adorned galaxies of, anew ~

Bookplate bridesmaids, with such glittering eyes and broadening smiles

Quickly making their jubilant ways down, the amendable aisles

With a world beholding as, the best of man.... 

Hearkening hearts rejoicing so, very deeply inside; paradise

Standing at the altar aside, the most beautiful of glorious grooms ~

Wearing heavens luminous harvest moon colours; commencing halos

Visages, as a sparkling fireworks display afore the joys of an innocent, awestruck child....

Immaculate and pristine; these most mesmerizing of scenes

Cygnus, gathered here to unite this day, paladin unto the morn ~

Extenuatings pragmatic veil; crimsons silkened tides now torn

From, the final pages of such history and lore; a candid, jewel leavened door....

Prismatics band; lifting these velvet promises of an everlasting rainbows, I do ~

Sidereals notes of well-nigh chime; sweet music across the blue made skies

Church bells, reaching unto the furthest realms this, celebrations invitation

Come one come all; come as you were come as you are; the brightest star

Making their way through the constellations; jubilee, and all of creation ~

Coterie, disembarking at the depot from a waking moment; neverendings, final destination!?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

...."The Wedding, at Dreamendon" ~






Note: Smile ~ "Merry Christmas Everyone; May It Be 'Beautiful & Bright; Love,'" John!:) ~

Details | Harvest Poem |

Leaves Talking

Lovely golden red-tinged leaves seem lost in conversation,
Eloquently rustling as they flutter to the ground.
Autumn’s breeze is whispering to them a revelation.
Vanquished they are soon to be.  Vanished – they will have no sound.
Eerily the evening creeps, its shadows enveloping the trees.
Stirring in the wind, the leaves now hiss as November’s grieves.

Trembling are the leaves that on lush boughs once brightly swayed.
Ashen is their world; murmuring with fear, crestfallen they lie,
Longing for the green of summer,
Knowing they soon will fade. . . .
Inglorious is our end!  Can you hear their forlorn cry?
Now the wind is quiet, and the leaves have all grown still.
Gone is Harvest Moon. First snow falls with a silent chill.

Details | Harvest Poem |

The day I met you

I still remember  that beautiful  day like yesterday  
not a bit Have I forgotten
The weather on that day was misty
And you was jogging

You was looking really pretty
Upon seeing me staring at your beauty  
your face turn crimson
Iike the seven beautiful  colours of a prism

When I met you, I was afraid to talk to you
When I started talking  I was afraid to ask for a date
When I started dating you, I was afraid to confess my love

But that day also come
When I confess my love toward you
We were walking along the shore
The night was high, with a harvest moon


my heart was pounding and hands start to shake
As I propose you and show  you the ring
There I notice  that no sunset, No spring
Has such a beautiful  grace
The grace I see in your face

Your smile has the power to replace
A severous  tempest into  sunlight
Darkness into a day which is bright
The sun waits for your smile to set
The stars wait for your smile, in order to shine

since the time I have met you
Joy follows me like a shadow that never leaves


I will be lost in your thoughts
And will bear pain for you
God has sent you as mine
Will tell the whole world this beautiful  line
That My heart  desires to adorn your dreams
And to sway in your heart
O you are the one who's  s spell has cast upon me

the best gift is health, contentment the greatest 
Wealth, but my life is running through your breath
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
13 April 2018

For  the contest " 10 words " by " Joseph May " 36 lines

Crimson: Line 7, forgotten: line 2, grace: line 19, Harvest: line 15
Love: Line 11, Misty: Line 3, Shadow: Line 27, Shore: Line 14
Tempest: Line 22, Yesterday: Line 1

Details | Harvest Poem |

Thank You For This Bounty, God

Thank you for this bounty, God
that you give to me
for grain that grows within the field
and fruit upon the tree
Thank you for the little seeds
that in the spring are sown
and with your gifts of sun and rain
have through the summer grown
Thank you for the farmers, Lord
and bless them for their toil
as now they gather in the fall
this bounty from your soil




This was inspired by Brian Strands' Harvest Hymn Contest, which I unfortunately missed 
but I wanted to share it with you today and dedicate it to Brian for the inspiration and 
support he gives to us here at the Soup.  RG

Details | Harvest Poem |

Wake Up Oh Africa

With the heavy load you suffer
a substance not needed
yet drags you
cushioning your efforts
and deterring your pace, forgetting that
the Train is already moving
with passengers determined
for this journey.

Why get so distracted
by passers-by focused to catch up?
Why are you tossed side to side,
putting you each time,
a step backwards?
Can't you realize that
the Train is already moving
with passengers determined for this journey?

It seems you are the only one left
and this is solely your doing
with no one to blame
and the rest,
definitely have no added advantage over you.
So stop acting weak
cos the Train 
is already moving
with passengers determined for this journey.

Wake up oh Africa!
you get your independence
just to become a volunteer slave.
You live in a Mansion
yet have no place to sleep.

Stop acting like a bucket of Crabs
killing each other
just to get out
and copy the ants
united and networking
for a common cause.

You fight for just a coin
underneath the Table.
When on it is a box
full of this same treasure.
Despite knowing how to reach out 
to its top,
you neglect such knowledge
and accept conflicts, violence and wars.

Settling for good enough
is worst than being bad
you blow your trumpet
when you make a step
out of a thousand more.
You show unbelievable contentment
to mediocrity and under-achievements,
but remember this!
Half a giant is no giant at all.

You have the breast plate
of protection
and all the arsenals to battle 
yet you dine with the helms of poverty
and embrace the ambassadors
of all kinds of infirmities.
You walk around naked
and seem not to bother
oh Africa!
Do you exist to actualize all these negativity?

An expert of imitation
and a professional in copying
no wonder no matter your trys
you end up as number 2 at best.
Because you've neglected
the sweetness of your originality.

You milk your cattle
to nourish the west
you harvest your crops
to feed foreign stomachs
you stand on abundant humus
yet your leaves are yellow and dry.

Exactly what will happen to the ants
if their Queen puts
their fate on the lizards
is what will befall you
not until you wake up oh Africa!

Details | Harvest Poem |

A Poem of Ruth

The tears well up, and scarce could she not moan
When father, brother, husband, all have died.
She now has no possessions, neither home,
But travels to a distant, unknown land:
Once so secure, yet now compelled to roam;
Once rich in love, she treads through foreign sands.
Her weary feet move forward but by faith;
For all left to her name is mere belief:
Mind, heart so far away she seems a wraith-
Love, happiness- all taken by a thief.

When, sometime since, her heart had broke in two,
The path of life, once single, parted way;
Forsake she could, but this she would not do-
All else was gone- with mother she would stay:
"Intreat me not to leave thee," was her plea,
"For whither thou wilt go, there will I; pray
Forbid me not to follow after thee,
For where thou lodgest I would also stay:
"Thy people shall be mine, thy God my God;
And where thou liest, I will gladly lie
Beside thee, overhead the selfsame sod;
That even then thou mightest be closeby.

"And so they twain walk on, hand clasped in hand;
Both hold the only thing they yet possess:
The younger but a stranger in the land,
An enemy, a widow in distress.

She rose before the sun to find a place
Where she might gather barley ears and wheat;
A field where she might find some needed grace
To gather for their winter store of meat:
Then Boaz comes from Bethlehem, and see,
He tarries with the reapers of the wheat:
He comes to Ruth and says, "Hear'st not thou me?
Remain until the harvest is complete:
"Go not from hence, but in my fields abide,
And let thine eyes be on the field they reap;
Behold, these maidens thou may'st work beside,
And near the reapers thou may'st ever keep."
Then to her face she fell, and wond'ringly
Asked why to her, a stranger, was so kind;
And he replied that she unfailingly
Had cleaved unto her mother with one mind,
And left her father, mother, and the soil
Of her nativity, and kissed the dust
Of some strange land wherein she meant to toil;
Forsaking gods of Moab God to trust:
"The Lord," said he, "reward thee for thy deeds,
 And recompense thy labour and thy love:
The God of Israel answer all thy needs,
And make his wings a shelter from above."
 Then said the maid, "My lord, please let me find
Some grace and favour in thy blessed sight,
For that thou hast been friendly, spoken kind,
And I am but a stranger in the night."
Then Boaz said, "At mealtime here abide;
Rest in the shade, come, sit with us and dine:
So down she sat, a reaper on each side;
She ate her wheat and dipped her bread in wine.
Then Ruth arose, and to her work she leaves:
The master thus commands his servant men,
"Let this young maid glean e'en among the sheaves;
Rebuke her not, for she shall come again;
And let some handfuls fall onto the ground,
There let them lie for my sake and for hers
That she may glean and plenty may be found;
For reasons she has need of it are pure."
And as she worked, Ruth knew not what a sight
Of beauty and of diligence she made,
As in the golden field in sunset's light
She bowed her head and knelt as if she prayed.

It came to pass that in his fields she stayed
Until the end of barley harvest came,
When mother told the lovely little maid
To seek for his provision and his name.
She washed and dripped an oil filled with sweet
Perfumes of wild roses on her face:
She had not much; her beauty was complete
With but her finest clothes to seek his grace.
Her braided hair shone brighter than the gem
That never graced her soft and shapely form;
Her eyes, they sparkled brighter than the hem
Of gold and pearls that she had never worn:
Thus Ruth went down unto the threshing floor
Where Boaz winnowed barley till the night,
And peeked at him so shyly 'round the door;
She never let him leave her searching sight.
His workday done, the master ate and drank;
With happiness his heart was full when fed:
Then by a heap of wheat he went and sank
Into the furry robes that made his bed;
And Ruth, a while watching till he sleep
Kept vigil from a stone used as a seat,
Till when his eyes had closed and sleep was deep
She lifted up the cover from his feet
And softly laid her down and dreamed of brides
Until the watchman struck a dozen beats,
And being startled, Boaz woke and spied
A woman sleeping at his very feet:
"Who art thou?" queried he in sleepy voice;
"Thine handmaid, Ruth," was her unsure reply;
Then blessed he her for wise and kindly choice,
For passing poor and rich young fellows by.
"And now, my daughter, gladly shall I do
According to thy wishes, for all here
Consider thee as virtuous and true;
Howbeit, there is one to thee more near,
A kinsman who must duly have his say:
If he decline, then rest assured I will
Perform the part of kinsman." So she lay
Down at his feet, and both were quiet, still.

In grey of early morning she arose,
Before a face could be discernéd there;
To keep from what some people might suppose
And who might stand along the road to stare:
Then Boaz said, "Bring here the vail thou hast
Upon thy head and hold it in thy hand:
Six times the barley measure filled and passed
From heap to vail as much as she could stand.
Then Boaz went up to the city gate
To find the nearer kinsman, whom he sought,
To see if he would purchase the estate
Of Ruth, and she herself, but he could not;
So Boaz purchased all the widows' land;
The houses, barns, and fields, though overgrown;
And bought what pleased him most, Ruth's comely hand
To cherish and to make his very own:
Then Boaz went to find the handmaid, Ruth
And lift her from a servant to a wife;
To love her in all tenderness and truth
In every day God blessed them both with life.



[By Isaiah Zerbst. Published 9/7/14. Parts of poem have been removed due to soup's limitations.]

Details | Harvest Poem |

Scarecrow

Blackened Crow circle
  frightened   hardly
     -plucking nightly
the fruits of her harvest

pitchforked hollow eyes watch
   behind the disguise 
   of a red worn bandana
        impaled 
   and left to molder

Details | Harvest Poem |

Our October Sky

 



 October sky, the 1st we celebrate, a seasons heart yearned treasured moment,
    Sun rises, new beginnings, Enlightens nature, we seek atonement.

  Dawn lights an autumn’s crisp chill, christening fallen leaves of tomorrow,
    Decorated front porch memories, earthly heritage, smothered sorrow.

  Passes monsoons, thirst quenched foliage, brought on dust storms, summer’s breeze.
     Colors dancing, enchanting harvest, Orange golden glows, on resting trees,

  Cinnamon sneaks by steaming cider, mulls a spiced aroma essence,
     Caramel apple, child’s smile, escapes harvest reminisce.

   A wonder inspired walk, a gentle kick to wisp away,
      Tree’s blessings, fallen life, decorated memories of yesterday.

   Crisp leaves falling, sprinkled mist, dripping dew drops land by chance,
         Hearts pitter pattered warmth speaks, provoking sudden dance.

   Fawns brook side, a mother’s love, protectant father thru seasons dressing,
       Such beauty grace lingers freely, coins free, bestows natures blessing.

   Falls door opens, touched hearts so deeply, awakened sober love outpours,
       God’s mystique he created goodness, for all of us he adores.

    Daylights autumn beauty, followed by nightfall’s tucked in kiss,
        A glowing lullaby, we’re put to bed; our harvests moon we’ve greatly missed.

Details | Harvest Poem |

The Wind Moves

The wind moves

It moves in many ways

How it moves

Like exotic scents of purple lavender

wafting 'neath a harvest sun

and  the rise of sour yeast

inside a fresh baked currant bun

It moves like a vernal tea-rose

pollinated by wild bees

in forging threesome

or wood-trush wings

rustled through leaves

in a symphonic rainfall season

It moves like the early breath

of a newly hatched cygnet

It moves mysteriously

like a spinning moon

orbiting my little world

Like descending mist

veiling pearled dawn's birth

The wind moves 

It moves in many ways

Like a half -bare shoulder

slipping through your embrace

Like starlit kisses

upon the melanchonic  lines of your face

The wind moves

The wind moves in many ways

How it moves

Just like us 

Just like  me

Just like you

Details | Harvest Poem |

Polar Opposites

We are polar opposites trying to connect,
Walking through a field of land mines.
Sometimes we don't make it through
Without becoming a bit maimed.

I am the steadfast flower in your garden,
The one that always grows back.
Even if abused, I find a way to blossom.
Tethered together by an invisible cord
Our deep love somehow endures.

We knew how different we were before
We felt compelled to share our lives.
We told ourselves opposites attract.
Now as age and illness becomes entwined
We have become shells of our vibrant
Selves who once took on the world united.

I refuse to succumb to the harsh winter
As I cling to the hues of our harvest years.
I will keep it at bay with songs in the sun
Warming both our hearts 'till winter comes.

© Connie Marcum Wong

Details | Harvest Poem |

- Au Revoir - Goodbye -


- 2016 -

- JANUARY -

A freezing cold evening

Where the stars shining bright

With frost blade flanks

From mouth and nose steam

In the clear silence

White untrodden snows

Nature's frozen pulse

Sleep like a little baby

One gracious moon

After the night the light is shattered into gold

At sunrise raise your heartbeat


- FEBRUARY -

The ground is chained in frozen iron
Snow crystals glued on pine cones
Overhangs embroideries of polished ice
The wind shakes and shatters them into millions of pieces


Slowly more brightness toward longer days
A new light is born across a white landscape
With its beauty and bliss a squirrel in a pine tree
Thoughts and reflections how beautiful it is


- MARCH -

Kong winter resolve his power struggle to live a little longer
Cold soil protects wild modest tiny flowers
March deserve tribute by an dignified pen
A soothing voice whisper in dew wet morning sun
When Spring youthful glory revitalises

With blessed glow in brilliant charm
A soft mother breast for all to be born again
Nature pregnancies seeds of life
Spring unveiled with a colorful smile
We go brighter times ahead, wakes up from beauty sleep
Princess Spring I feel lucky and almighty

- APRIL -

Spring marks the end of winter and start of summer
It is lovely with colorful contrasts
Norway is a long country with a lot of mountains and valleys
Wide variations in climate from south to north and from east to west

Migrant's return, and the first flower is coltsfoot
Both humans and animals awakened by hibernation with new energy
The sun is high, no snow falls and the birds singing
Small downy mouse ears to be leaves on birch tree

- MAY -

May show us how beautiful you are
A Spirea blooms like a beautiful and white cloud in the garden
Beautiful spring bride
Dressed with creation she herself had designed
A golden ring of eternal happiness
The veil thin and beautiful like cobwebs kisses her cheek

May is the month with wonderful contrasts
As sure as the sun rises each morning
When I turn my face toward the warm sun
I feel it gives me new energy

Seventeenth of May is Norway's National Day
We lift up the flag in red, white and blue
Freedom
The sky is blue, as far as the eye can see
A celebration of sun, spring, life and eternal love

- JUNE -

The sun constantly light flickers through the air and brighten up long nights
The summer carnations were Gods flower for the Greeks
They bloom earlier than most other species
A delight to the eye throughout the summer

Midsummer night - Midsummer Celebration 23rd and 24th June
A dear child has many names it is said,
and Midsummer night is no exception
Across Norway celebrated it with large fires
Some placed a rag doll on top of the fire
The witches burnt this night

Dance, music, porridge and flower garlands with carnations
Barbeque, Norwegian strawberries and fireworks all night
If a young girl picks seven or nine various mode herbs that night,
and put them under the pillow, she would dream of her future husband

- JULY -

No doubt that July is a beautiful summer month
It is the year's best month is named after Julius Caesar himself

Summer raindrops pierced by sunbeams
Just think of how precious privilege it is to wake up to bird song

Columbines are still in full bloom, they are charming
Spices herbs for diversity and for flavor

Who would have anything against sitting in the garden all day
and let you tickle a bit of a grape plant in the neck

Flowers and plants are an important part of summer
Enjoy it all with family and good friends

Fair weather clouds that just gives a little variety in all the blue
July is synonymous with holidays for most

The temperature and enthusiasm rises
This summer we will swim in the ocean and eat lots of ice cream

- AUGUST -

Our receptive hearts have allready heard
The breeze reports August

The shadows fall when the day is done
Roving winds and rain are waiting

For every day that passes, the autumn is preparing
Goodbye butterfly, wondering where your journey ends

When that day comes, I will kiss you softly
The painting will change color and give the landscape a blush

We always seek, and new jewels will be found
It hurts to say it, but the summer has an end

- SEPTEMBER -

Let autumn wind whisper its song
Summer sunshine rays from yesterday we remember
After a long and lovely summer,
it often feels like autumn kept going cold and gray
But the truth is that this is one of the most colorful month

Now comes the polar night and the storm's time is near
We celebrated Thanksgiving in connection with the harvest
Autumn is yellow, red and orange
This is perhaps the finest with the autumn
Take a hike and you will see how beautiful it is out there

- OCTOBER -

The life light shimmers in the air
Love and delights

Death and pain
Drowsy in numbness

The leaves have never known
Embalmed darkness with grief

Cold winter is coming soon
Silver bells and white snow

Stardust, northern lights and moonlight
While wonder and guesses

- NOVEMBER -

Daylight change, and go to its winter rest
Night frost drips from the eaves

A cold wind rushed and shoveled his way
Caught your lungs with clear icy air

In this deep cold, it feels just right
Leave the door open to be a part of the season

Human rhythms always searching
The lunar takes its own bath in silver dust

November night will show you: The Milky Way
Keep your senses and soul awake, and enjoy it

- DECEMBER -

Some say they can smell the spring
... Is it possible to smell December?
A scent of something can hit you
anytime and anywhere

The frost sneak up on the night
and color the landscape white
Northern Lights with its spectacular light
dancing in the sky
Beautiful music, has no borders
Creating a sense of meaning

So stop fighting against wind turbines
December is the month for reflection
Joy and peace ~ when darkness falls
  "A child is born in Bethlehem"



  ... ... Au Revoir ... ... Goodbye ... ... Adjø




26.12.2016
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved

Details | Harvest Poem |

September

Trees reach like glowing embers
to singe the autumn skies.
Leaves burst with blinding colour
like sparks that spin and rise
Then a breath of weightless fog
moves across the silent lake
where trails of molten clouds
fill the sunset's smoky wake.
The harvest moon emerges
like a second burning sun
to fill the sky with button-stars
that morning pulls undone. 
Sunlight floods the gardens
to melt the morning dew.
This is where my heart resides
since September gave me you.

Details | Harvest Poem |

Held upon a moonbeam sighs

Visions of a way forward 
raising the curtains dream magic
stepping into the spotlight view 
captivating under a harvest moon

Rocked in the cradle of thoughts 
your the flower sweetly awakening 
deeply flames warmly embrace sunshine beams 
growing beautiful rose petals tenderly touch deeply

When I trace your heart's echo 
kissing this soul softly within dewdrops 
weeping starlight tears of a breathless sigh 
where the sunbeams dance with brilliance

Golden inside your rays honey 
deliciously lights up priceless perfect 
holding the breath for a moment love 
our time shining purely unique sharing

Details | Harvest Poem |

Autumn's Spell

Bewitched
by autumn’s moonrise
I harvest the fruit
of my ripe imagination.

Details | Harvest Poem |

blessed harvest

as autumn's beauty explodes
in comforting hues of amber
summer petals become bulbous heads
in anticipation of fall's sensual splendor.

an aura of warmth and excitement
kisses our cheeks with a rosy glow,
as we softly cocoon ourselves
in a hearth of tender knowing.

evenings are lustful delicacies
as mornings burst with pleasure,
it is a time of blessed harvest
to nourish and replenish our souls.

wrapped in each other's care
we celebrate and honour
with excitement and passion
the feast of autumn's beauty.

we joyously give in completely
to the magic of autumn's scent
as fiery embers dance with us
to wonderrous heights of desire.

autumn's gorgeous palette
envelops our lingering moments
as we savour, breathlessly,
the rhapsody of souls becoming one.