Fields Poems

fields of life

to wend through golden grasses of my past
      with chill winds at my back from o'er the hill
   oh how I wish the glow of spring would last

thus far behind me stands that boy, miscast
      while just a jester, much too bright and

Killing fields of the west'

First to go down..Hope and joy..Then seperate
Man and women..Boy oh boy.' Bring in euthanasia..As a real good thing.' Get some
Soap box series, to play it through scene by scene.' The termination of unborn.' Who we don't need..
Just open the boarders, ie get workers with speed' .' Does that answer any questions.? Oh then we
Can put

On the Summer Fields

I’ve been walking for a mile
The woman stalking me has been sniffing for a while
She has become my second shadow
I hope I am not the source of her sorrow.

I quicken my steps on the quagmire of illusion
She hastens with her shadow on the plinths of delusion
One thing is sure: I’d out-walk her.
She makes her resolution

The Green Fields of Leisure World

Hear the tale of the green fields where I roam,
Leisure World, the place that I call home.
If you take strolls (a healthy habit),
at dawn or dusk, you'll see a rabbit.
(If you were faster, you could grab it)
You'll see four-legged, curly-haired cuties
who lead their pets while they do their duties,
and grey-brown squirrels on their haunches
meticulously chewing their

Matsuo Basho: English translations of Haiku about Autumn 2

Matsuo Basho: English translations of Haiku about autumn, fall, falling, trees, leaves, leaving, goodbye, rice, moon, moonlight, words.

Reverential tears:
the falling leaves
bid their trees goodbye.
—Matsuo Basho, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Plates and bowls
gleaming dimly in the darkness:
evening coolness.
—Matsuo Basho, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Twice the pity:
beneath the headless helmet,
a chirping cricket.
—Matsuo Basho, translation/interpretation by Michael R.

Craft Market at Pyree Fields

Each month a craft fair, 
is held at Pyree Fields in the open air.
All the local crafters are there,
proudly showing off their homemade fare.

Behind each stall, a pair of eyes stares,
hoping you will buy some of their wares,
or better still, admire their works and cares,
in making things, every devoted crafter shares.

Step right up to the

Weeping willow, why do your catkins caress the fields of sunflowers

Weeping willow, why do your catkins caress the fields of sunflowers
when they themselves are hallucinogenic dreams dancing in the secret wind?
Why do your cold and rigid branches yearn for warmth when a smoldering fire burns within you,
between your wooden ribs, embracing you with its hidden and fiery flames?
Weeping willow, why do you let your branches

Poppy Fields

Flying over the front lines
with the French Escadrille Lafayette
a brown and barren belt below
a strip of murdered nature and yet
during the warm months of spring and summer
seeds in the shattered ground would grow
delicate vibrant crimson flowers
in row after row after row
and in those poppy fields
that's how we remember them
all the fallen soldiers
those unforgotten gallant men
tho'

Lilies Of The Fields

Lilies Of The Fields
 1963
 A field full of flowers.
 Yellow is my favorite color.
 Run freely in the wind.
 Stay young with an imagination.
 Be carefree through the open land.
 Live a simple life if you can.
 There's nothing like living out in the country.
 This is the way it should be.
 Swing high

Oil Fields

Oil Fields
 Too many long hours in the day.
 Many hard days under the sun and in the rain.
 After so many years, I now understand.
 You worked a hard job on the land.
 I don’t thank you enough.
 With iron you have to be tough.
 Sun up oil and dirt.
 I appreciate all your

Fields, Voices, Boots

Behind, Ahead,
                    To Bring Our Move!

Raise The Score,
                     Fields, Voices, 
     

Once she whispered to me, with the voice of a breeze caressing the fields

Once she whispered to me, with the voice of a breeze caressing the fields,
"Why me? What is it in me that makes you love me?"
And I could have given her a thousand reasons, told her about her grace,
About her smile that rises like a gentle moon, about her voice that sings like a river,
About her

THE KILLING FIELDS

This horrendous Cambodian war-time story,
Ends with Cambodian glory,
Journalists forged a strong friendship within hard cruel times,
It is one of the best movies ever and all so true,
These two men Sydney Schanberg and Dith Pran
In the face of horrific adversity
Face death, threats, imprisonment, catastrophe,
Yet together, help and document about a hovering 
Communist strategy.


The Vietnam war at

Elysian Fields Are Beautiful in Spring

Opa John

The caboose sits red—its iron spine cradles the earth like Atlas
rails stretching into nowhere. The stream murmurs softly
its voice threading through Ellie’s laughter like silver wire

"Do you see it?" I ask her my voice a splintered cello
"The train, Ellie—the one that carries us westward
past the edge of the world where Cronus grinds his teeth
and

When Fields Becomes Cities

Once there stood a golden field,
Swaying crops, a farmer's yield.
Morning songs of birds took flight,
Beneath the sky so vast and bright.

The village paths, of dust and stone,
Where children laughed and cattle roamed,
Now paved with tar, so smooth and wide,
Where restless cars and buses glide.

The thatched-roof homes with lantern’s glow,
Replaced by lights in glassy rows.
The banyan

• Short Fields Poems
• Famous Fields Poems
• Best Fields Poems
• Read Fields Poems
• Long Fields Poems
• Fields Quotes