Best Harvesters Poems
Blue sky, glorious golden sunshine
Elements every farmer needs.
With crops rippling in the breeze
Combine harvesters whirl into action
See them steadfastly snaking along the fields
I can hear their dull drone from morning to night
Farmhands work tirelessly to gather the harvest
Making hay whilst the sun shines
Every second of the day is so precious
Until the final rays of the red sunset fade
Only then the farmer leaves and can rest
Harvest moon rapidly rises
Silhouetted in the majestic oak tree
A barn owl roosts silently in the quiet of night
Nature Poem – Sponsor Shadow Hamilton
08~02~15
On a Sussex farm works a golden haired girl
Surrounded by guys as she makes their hearts twirl
But her love and soul are miles away
In a Highlanders heart, she hopes to meet one day.
Its nearly a year since they were first in touch
As she's grown to adore him oh so much
Her delight will be, is too invite him down
And show him round her lovely town.
Her joy and smiles, as she holds his hand
Her heart pounding as she feels a million grand
Stopping for cuddles as they share a kiss
With her Highlander she's in sheer bliss.
The countryside where this English Rose stays
Flowering crops grow and animals graze
Noisy tractors Harvesters reap
Under a blistering sun, the baaing of sheep.
In her yellow dress, flowing golden hair
She takes his hand, as they climb the stair
Above up here is where we keep the hay
Again she takes his hand and down they lay.
Facing each other they start to kiss
This English rose in her mind she wish
To share her body with her Highlander
To adjoin their bodies as their loving stirs.
As they undress each other on this summers day
Bare skin warms the golden hay
Passions flow as their hands explore
Loving scent from their loving pores
Joys and sighs, they feel their bodies mix
Emotions and feelings in adrenalin fix.
Warmed and content,consumed in each others arms
Two heavenly bodies sharing each others charms
Kissing and cuddling on the flattened hay
As they stand up and look where they just once lay.
Dishevelled clothes, hair astray
This loving couples summers play
Standing embrace their bodies quiver
Holding hands they head to the river.
At the river bank they undress each other
Under a shaded green leafy cover
Her naked body and long golden hair
Makes him proud to be standing there.
As they enter the river
They caress and wash each other
Under this shaded leafed cover
They kiss and embrace to share their love
Under the leafy tree, chirping birds all above.
Heading home hand in hand
This loving couple feeling two million grand
They head to bed, spooned and cosy
This Highlander and his English Rosie.
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/love.php
Chaste and more graceful
Than the white canvassed Dhow:
Reclines sweet Nefertiti
Upon a Blue Nile breeze.
Fabled entity more whiter
Than the purest white snow
That thickly blankets
And folds over the wide Pyrenees.
Dipped is thy beak
Into a harvesters August sunset;
A Bohun proper,
Gorged and chained with a crown;
Tipped Argent quills
Thus scrawl across royal warrants:
Plodding, punctilious creature -
Of high born renown!
Proudly thy trumpet Lancastrian ascension,
Emblazoned on a Heraldic shield;
Pomp and indignation
Paddling alongside contemptuous scorn;
Sinuous neck of Serpentine undulations
Tensioned as if a Longbow -
On whose plaited strings
The sturdy Yeomans Bodkins were drawn!
And did Columbines mask
Ever hold such indignant eyes
For whose feathered heart
The diligent cob did attend?
His sedulous efforts
To court within impassioned grunts
When intertwining throats
Do abouts and lovingly wend.
O, Cygnus olor!
En monde bosse - glittering Dunstable jewel;
Pen and immortal verse
Chart beside heavens gilded streams.
For under old mariners discarded stars
And above silvered byways:
Whoop the beat of dusted wings
Inside slumbering clouds wandering dreams.
a time to live
a time to die
a time to laugh
a time to cry
a time to mourn
they that died
a time to remember
times we laughed and cried
who can recall the fullness of life
the time when the fruit
they say has turned ripe
then time to harvest
weather happy or sad
they pick the fruit
and put it in a bag
it may be prepared
for a wonderful feast
or preserved for latter
when the harvest is weak
but to rot on the vine
is a waste of Gods time
and sinful where usefullness
was only deceit
have they been missed
by the harvesters hand
perhapes left for gleening
their second chance
but rot on the vine
is the devils delight
give nothing to anyone
and stay out of sight
the time to give
is waning fast
we're constantly ageing
with lives that won't last
opportunity soon becomes
a thing of the past
but the best come forth
giving what they have
it seem's at times
that they are taken from us
our gentle lambs
we love and trust
but by Glory they are saved
for a greater day
in the fullness of life
they went away
from a time to live
and a time to die
to a time to die
and a time to live
Upon a tattered pillow, day or night,
He sleeps through happy hours without a stir;
Tail wrapped around and paws tucked out of sight
Beneath a purring ball of gray-striped fur.
Well-fed, secure, and free from any care,
A king within the realm of simple ways,
He comes and goes at whim, with pompous air,
And eats and sleeps and plays away his days.
We toss upon our lavish king-sized bed
As nightmares echo worries of mankind-
We, harvesters of knowledge, amply fed,
Go starving for the food of peace of mind.
Sleep well, "dumb animal," sweet feline pet,
While "Homo-Sapiens" pays wisdom's debt.
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Contest: Mad As A Hornet - Sonnet
Sponsor: John Lawless
Judged:12/01/2015
===================================
I am "Mad As A Hornet" because with all our super
intelligence and outstanding accomplishments, humans
have still not been able to achieve peace and tranquility
in this world.
PoetrySoup …
I Was Heartily Welcomed… As I Sat At Your Table
By: Carol, Sara, Carolyn, Dane Anne, Moses, and Abel
Tim, Leon, John, Michael, Jim and Yoni
Deborah, Krista, Adeleke and Charlie
… James, The (Two) Ruben(s) and (The Quik-Composer) Raul
… and Many, Many More, I Love to Hear At Dinner-Call !
The PoetrySoup …
… It Has Member – Mushrooms
Chew and Chat Lunchrooms
Delectable Hors d'oeuvre
Every Ear-Full… Heard
Every Mouthful… Taste
Spoonful of Gourmet Grace
Voila’ Words, Don’t Waste
Simmer-Slow and Baste’
In Dug-up, Sweet Potatoes
Ripe Food for Thought Tomatoes
And Onions, That Will Make You Cry
Artichokes and Lemons that Squeeze – ‘til You Die
Garlic and Oregano Are Just Some Suggestions
And Here’s Some Mint… for Your Digestion
Parsley to Parley and Jive-Chives, Just Keep Stirring
But There’s No Clam Chowder, Shrimp, or Herring
A Dash of This… A Dash of That Seasoning
A Pinch of That and Sprinkle This Reasoning…
On The Side with the Mustard and Relish, so Fresh
Are the Cucumber-Contest and Radish Requests
And I Can’t Forgo the Tongue-in-Cheek Puns…
Your Laughter is Passed Around, like Hot-Buttered Buns !
… Poets … Are Proverbial Peas In The Pod
The Harvesters of Herbs-Heard, in The Garden of God
so... Salt and Pepper to Your Superb Style
Did You Say Cheese, Please ?... ( Full Mouth Smile !)
There’s Hot Chicken Broth, When You Are Cold
Everybody Knows… Its Good For The Soul
And All That’s On The Human Menu… It’s In There !
… Even A Mother’s … Tenderized Care
Like Campbell’s Brand… Its Umm… Umm… Good !
The Aspire – Asparagus, I Took… I Understood
So, PoetrySoup’s Cupboard is Never Bare
And There Ain’t No Bones, No Medium, Just Rare
And On The Star-Burner… Is The Savory Meat
So… Grab A Heartbeat-Bowl… and Bona Petit’…
Yes, Thank You, PoetrySoup
(You’re Up There with MoonBee’s FruitLoops !)
It Has Been A Pleasure Getting To Know You All
Thru Your Beautiful Expressions, Coming Straight
From Your Warm and Welcoming Hearts
God Bless You......
MoonBee
Quote:"All art is autobiographical. The pearl is the oyster's autobiography".
Federico Fellini
The Taos Indian crafted jewel,
A necklace strung with jade and some other gems.
Looked so pretty to me, I bought it on the spot,
Presented it to my wife, which she never wore in her life.
Once I asked her, why don’t you wear that necklace?
You would look pretty in it and would arouse some romance.
She looked at me and asked, have you ever judged jewelry?
Whoever wears green stone jewelry, I would rather buy a pearl necklace.
What is so special about pearl necklaces?
Pearl harvesters find only in one percent of oysters,
Its layers of sand, glued in oyster’s glands,
Still women love the bright white lustier of beady pearls.
She is gone for many years, the jade necklace I keep in my heart,
It’s not the value of jewelry, it is what it is sentimentally worth,
She wore pearl and other jewelries, and tried to look her best,
If she had worn my gift necklace, she would have looked her best.
Now I adore her picture on the wall,
With the jewelry she did not like at all,
To me she looks the prettiest doll,
Wearing this precious jade jewel crafted by love.
Treasures and passages, peaceful as land, sky, and sea
Heartland of hope, harvesters and helpful hands
Abundance shows America as plateau of plenty
Natives in November remembers, family came first
Kindness swells, like tidal rhythm of breath across this land
Sacred words are heard, a symbol of gratitude and caring
Generations grace the day with family, and friends as guests
Indigenous folks can never forget... extending help
Visions of brighter days, of venison and veggies are stored
I learned of Thanksgiving, migrating to America's welcoming shore
Now is reminder; shall I thank ancestors, or Source above
Gratitude reigns for all, one nation under God.
*
Time’s dark veil floats slowly to Earth
As people of twilight wait for rebirth
A species is stirring, about to take charge
The men of the gloom, dark workers at large
Moonlit toil revealed by the morn
Papers now printed, babies now born
Cities scrubbed clean by fastidious hordes
Nocturnal writers put thoughts into words
Samaritans listen to sad people crying
The carers attend to the sick and the dying
Harvesters counting their catch from the sea
A jailer considers a recidivist’s plea
Men of letters with addresses unknown
Those of the air, many miles have been flown
A glow in the sky tells of morning’s first light
It’s the end of the day for the creatures of night
The spring was on the way
time for the farmer to plough
straight lines running parallel
gleaming in the rich red loam
It had laid all winter waiting
now it was time to sow and seed
yellow mustard glinting in the sun
so pretty as it grows in leaps and bounds
Little animals made their home
borrows in between the roots
even a dormouse always sleepy
soon they scurry off as harvest begins
Harvesters hard at work birds feasting
on those that were far too slow
crops are now gathered in and stored
the horses fallow the field now it rests
This spring the field will remain fallow
all part of the master plan of rotation
it's life is simple following a four year plan
to maximize each year's yield without stress
Following being fallow potatoes go in
these help clear the land of weeds
while adding goodness to the soil
then the golden wheat which the land depletes
Last to go in will be turnips for feed
completing a long term cycle of crops
If it could talk many tales it would tell
of all of the goings on within it's boundaries
As days get shorter and night stretches out.
Summer fades away and earth gets colder.
Soon, Oh too soon snow will again rule and
the earth will slumber under its folds.
Until then we enjoy the fruits of bounty
smelling the last of sweet summer flowers.
Crops stand ready in the fields for collection
Combined harvesters busily at work.
Fat stalks of golden corn, rye and barley
tied in bundles ready for threshing.
Seductive scents of apples waft
as down they are laid for storing.
Frosts now lay the land bare
as the leaves part company
some red, some yellow, others orange
they blow and scatter in the wind.
Trees looking stark and bleak gaze
o'er the stripped fields with snow sprinkling
the now barren ground and soon Winter
will once more rule in her glory
Gone now the lazy days of Summer
her flowers and perfumes distant memories.
Now the hues of colour are subdued.
And all around the land sleeps on.
(Moon is My Muse)
Moon Musing
You lie beyond an obscure veil
Above the foggy city lights
Illuminating the night so pale
Giving darkness lights respite
Elliptical loops around earth’s face
Wearing wane or increase smiles
Still quickening lover’s heart pace
Ever working your earthly wiles
Finding muses in your boldness
Poets stroke their papered words
Romance beckons in your fullness
Love lyrics written or poetic blurbs
Earthly harvesters glean in the night
Twice find beauty in blue moon bright
Written for: “Moon is My Muse” on 2/27/13
I used the definition for Sonnet found in Poetry Soup Forms
of unjust harvest
when will
the grim reaper
tire
being cast murderer
how long will
stopped stalked beings
be blown away
like crows in forbidden fields
does not war yield
enough to be reaped
or
will strange fruits
forever to be plucked
by the harvesters of hate
The country road split the wheat field in half
A murder of crows seemed to prefer the right
Hope they leave some to winnow from the chaff
Crows seem but wavey lines against the night
A spectacular sight in the twilight
Fields of wheat in the final golden stage
Ready for the harvesters to earn their wage
Golden grains that hungry men have desired
This art lifts up some memories to engage
Remember the dirt road our love once required
Artful work: Crows In The Wheatfield by Vincent Van Gogh
Written: February 11, 2023
THE PASSING TRAIN
Iam inside the fastest train,
This is not my very first time
Nor there is changes to define,
Same destination on my brain.
Once a green field now harvesting,
But I don't know the reapers song
Because Iam moving along,
The harvesters are jollying.
Staring at the passing houses,
Whether the same people staying
Those cows the same ones seen
grazing,
My memory minimises.
At one place a dirty black pond,
An oasis for cows and birds
The long legged white birds play
sports,
With the cows to show sign of bonds.
Cauliflowers forms a jungle,
Mango trees looks like broccolli
Dry terraced fields a moor broadly,
Corn hairs like king's mane in
shambles.
The round sun began to set in,
Slowly like a blazing fire
The western sky dance with desire,
I saw it from the moving train.
Watisungla Ao
27/03/2013