Work Idyll (Idyl) Poems | Examples
These Work Idyll (Idyl) poems are examples of Idyll (Idyl) poems about Work. These are the best examples of Idyll (Idyl) Work poems written by international poets.
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City means needs of vegetables and greenly means!
To transport rural compose;
Also processing some meats, for us to eat;
Early, early morning late in the evening;
Harvesting providing for the urban populous;
A farmer’s work is never, ever done!
For He provides for each and every one;
10/18/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2021©
I walked with him to the stable this morning,
And watched him soothe the cows awaiting
The barnyard coming alive with the sounds
Of animals in the morning a new day creating.
Then on to the large greenhouse full of plants
Already needing water as the sun was hot,
And many the plants were starting to wilt
I thought of the day’s chores in this lovely spot.
Almost before the sun had risen fully
To stir the children in the simple farmhouse,
The morning’s collection of eggs in a basket
We fed the chickens, a pheasant, and grouse.
Before the sun had reached its place at noon
The animals were all cared for diligently, and
Machinery readied for autumn harvesting,
The acres of field corn just like he planned.
FIRST PLACE TROPHY WINNER
written September 2, 2021
especially for "Idyll Thoughts" Poetry Contest
sponsored by John Lawless
Alone in my living room, I am at peace
pondering Immanuel, incarnate God.
Moving to my garden where lilies speak peace;
they know an Intercessor who cares for them.
Walking thru the neighborhood, I wave in peace
at friends whose Inspiration is a blessing.
Reaching the park, I continue on in peace
feeling my soul's Indwelling Spirit at work.
Watching adults and children at peaceful play,
amazed at the Invisible God's presence
I reason on my own immortality.
written February 28, 2017
an idyll for Broken Wings' Form I (Immortal Theme) contest.
Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION
A Man and His Dog
His step, though slow, determined still.
He’s older now less strength than will.
His hair is white upon his brow
as time, the thief, her gifts endow.
He stops beside a running stream
to rest awhile, to sit and dream
upon a rough cut beech wood log,
And by his feet his faithful dog.
The dog’s old too, with muzzle grey,
No more the pup to run and play.
She lies content in gentle sun
Her master near, her work now done.
I watch them from my window high,
And feel a loss, a stab of pain.
I firmly fix in my mind’s eye
this peaceful scene, to watch again.
Save this animal from it's fate.
Before it is too late.
Don't sit back and watch the sight.
Of thousands of animals, day and night.
Pile up dead.
Help to save them.
You can too.
Don't talk, see it through.
A thousand drivers, mechanics, all.
A thousand bulldozers to move the dirt.
We can make it work.
They must migrate for food.
We can make the way.
For them to come and go.
Without the agony they show.
You must not go away this year.
Give the money to save them.
Or, turn your back and kill them.
Sit on your sofa and watch them die.
With not even a sigh.
..........................................
I love two women.
From Benninden.
They are beautiful and divine.
Both of them. mine.
Choose. My fate.
Mary or Kate.
Mary is blond and Kate red.
Mary I'm fond, and Kate to wed.
Together is a living hell.
Your bosom is showing.
Your lipstick, too red.
Jealousy and hatred, enough said.
I can not state.
Mary or Kate.
As a threesome, it doesn't work out.
'Mary I love you' Kate, goes mad.
"Kate I love you' Mary is sad.
Together they kiss and cuddle.
When I'm not there, with.
Mary or Kate.
One day, a little embolden by gin.
To Mary would give in.
Another by beer, to Kate call dear,
I am faithful and true.
To these two.
What can I do.
Choose.
Mary or Kate.
Maybe a Morman, I could be.
But there is only one of me.
One is enough, for any man.
To choose one is not my plan.
I must forget.
Mary and Kate.
Tears…
Flowing
The gate
From fighting
The black storm
For the name
Of our flag
he;s a leader
he,s a stealer
he,s fat from taking
what,s not his
he has puppets who do his
dirty work not caring who suffers
he holds his gut and secretly
calls them his faithful
he stole from the wrong one
now he,s roasting in the coals
and his puppets tried and tried
but no matter how hard they cry
the bell now rings
and on his strings they fly