Harvest Time Poems - Poems about Harvest Time

Fall's bright colors are taking flight like birds on the wing It's the right time for a clime change and seasonal transformation brisk winds whisk leaves in plight and can no longer cling Autumn sends a note that portends a change is in the air Months of holidays and sublime door displays in celebration of prime family feasts and Halloween...

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In autumn, I came upon a garden of errant souls And saw several souls sequestered there. Some were well-known and some were fools, But others were only tarrying there. Though the sanguine souls were tall in bloom, there were stunted souls among them. I wondered why tall souls gave the short ones room; And, in the end, accepted them. Tears flowed from the...

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October is the time to harvest that which summer days did sow. Enjoy one last flash of brilliance before we succumb to winter’s snow…...

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The breathe of summer is nearly past Oaks and maples collect dreams, belief Pouring out the tenderest promises, gentling The spirit with a grace so warm, like a whisper Caressing the moon with soft tendrils of firefly Kindness, kindled by the soul who remembers When the feelings were more pure than temptations Who render the moments helpless, left yearning For the laughing smiles,...

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The birthday of one our dear friends, Julie, we three wanted to celebrate duly. It was harvest time, we went to the farm, shining golden wheat was reflecting charm. We walked excited in the morning gale to the edge of the field with stacked up bale. Each one of us picked quickly one of these, clutched them with our arms and carried...

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young frogs quacking loud they have grown thick and ugly It's rice harvest time...

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Harvest Time Haiku: by Tom 12/26/2020 Fields are truly white, labor needed for harvest. there's so little time. John 4:35 KJV “Say not ye, There are yet four months, and then cometh harvest? behold, I say unto you, Lift up your eyes, and look on the fields; for they are white already to harvest.” ...

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FLORAL HARVEST TIME autumn blossoms shine as no longer they do bloom it's now harvest time 10/28/20 Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2020©...

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Pretty girl slithers through the fields Bell around her neck swings out a cry Under the howling moon a...

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Summer season has wrapped up on the southern prairie plain the multi-patchwork of fields ready for upcoming harvest heads of golden yellow wheat, rye and barley glow in the amber sun the wind creates flowing waves with the hearty stalks while birds and deer find a very easy feast the rains are not wanted as the threshing begins dryness is the key to get the best yield of the...

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The Harvest Black, starless late September sky, the moon a golden scythe mowing down the old, harvest time. They had forgotten to close windows and chill will settle in old lungs, spitting blood. Church bells toll. The old priest is still on holiday; the new one is clumsy, hasn’t had a bath and a...

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Harvest time Golden acres of wheat soon the harvester will cut you down make you into bread and fodder I remember when you were tall as me and the north- west wind tried to flatten you but you bent with the wind At sunrise rose like a peace- army Hell bent on becoming flour...

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HARVEST TIME - THE REDEMPTION There are no roots to see, not with our eyes, that stretch from earth, umbilically below; not even to the sun, to realize, but there must be a chord we do not know; Are we not on a fruit, still ripening? Perhaps we are the nectar from the tree, Awaiting harvest time's great siphoning When all are...

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Changing seasons, the empty barns mew efforts on the field is about to born abundant products from seeds so few a handful can give a bag full of corn one more year for extreme hunger to hiss luck has heavily rained on every sow pregnant is the skies, the rains do not miss green and greener are the fields in a row demanding...

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HARVEST TIME There are no roots to see, not with our eyes, that stretch from earth, umbilically below; not even to the sun, to realize, but there must be a chord we do not know; Are we not on a fruit, still ripening? Perhaps we are the nectar from the tree, Awaiting harvest time's great siphoning When all are ripened; it's our...

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