Long Crops Poems
Long Crops Poems. Below are the most popular long Crops by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Crops poems by poem length and keyword.
** In Spirit with Trees **
I feel sad, feeling a kind of tragedy
When I see that a storm
has broken…
has felled trees.
Grass everywhere green, rises.
Flowers splendidly gracing…And
Blessed crops progress us all… But,
The fig, olive, walnut, willow, ash, and magnolia —
The palm, maple, oak, redwood, and evergreen —
The any and every kind of tree affect me,
As I breathe and dearly perceive.
I must confide, my curiosity
about trees has deepened
Since decades ago, when I read
some Japanese folklore
Tells of the believing their ancestors
Could remain here becoming spirits in trees.
That idea — plus the knowledge about how eons of trees
evolved since their days amidst the dinosaurs —
Has
…increased my awe of them, as I see
growth and strength for purposes, and to possibly
inspire as towering sillouhettes against the sky…
Beautifully awakening wonder, with a mysterious
Sensing
Trees may stand waiting communicate.
———————————————————————————————————
(c) sally young eslinger 7/6/23
Thanks be to God—-
Serenading voices of snow geese thrum in the morning sky
Unrivaled is the clangor of their echoed gabbles in October
Songs of Fall ride on the wind as russet leaves begin to fly
Unrobed are trees; stripped bare, looking bereft and sober
Ripened are amethyst crops of corn and grains in the field
Rivaled by a soft golden glow of the gibbous harvest moon
Undeniably beautiful, when in October its glow is revealed
Seduced by its romantic luminance, lovers kiss and swoon
On All Hallow's Eve, I see scary costumed trick-or-treaters
Feasting on candy given by generous household greeters
Ode to October, there's a chill aloft, whispering in the air
Conspiring with Mother Nature in such a glorious season
This pleasant month arrives with a stir of festive fanfare
Offering a kaleidoscope of colors, and with good reason ~
Brushes in artists hands paint landscapes of Autumn days
Eagerly, I welcome those dazzling hues that seem to blaze
Rife with splendid riches, I chant October's songs of praise
~ October 2, 2020 ~
Pick-A-Title, Vol 23-Seasonal Acrostic Contest
~ Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh ~
I OPENED A DOOR
AND FOUND MYSELF
STANDING ON WHAT SEEMED
LIKE A MILLION ACRES
OF FARM LAND.
THE TEMPERATURE
FELT VERY HOT.
I WOULD SAY
IN THE HIGH EIGHTIES.
AND HUMID, VERY HUMID.
LIKE MID WEST HUMIDITY
IN LATE JULY
OR EARLY AUGUST.
I WAS WAITING
FOR THE CLOUDS TO UNLEASH
THAT MID SUMMER
THUNDER STORM
AND TO MAGICALLY
BRING THE FIELDS TO LIFE.
WHAT REALLY
SEEMED OUT OF PLACE
WAS THIS BEAUTIFUL STRETCH
OF LAND WAS COMPLETELY
BARE OF ALL VEGETATION.
AS FAR AS THE EYE COULD SEE.
IN EVERY DIRECTION.
NO CROPS.
NO GREEN FIELDS.
NO FARMING MACHINERY.
NO WATERING SYSTEM.
NO INDICATION
OF LIFE OF ANY KIND.
I HAD TO ASK MYSELF
THE QUESTION
WHAT'S REALLY GOING ON?
WAS I IN THE FUTURE
OR THE PAST.
THIS COULDN'T POSSIBLY
BE PRESENT DAY.
OR WAS IT?
PRESENT DAY IN THE FUTURE?
I THOUGHT TO MYSELF
WAS THIS LAND NOT NEEDED?
WAS THERE AN ABUNDANCE
OF FOOD SUPPLY?
WAS THIS LAND
DELIBERATELY
UN FARMED
TO CREATE A FOOD SHORTAGE?
WHY WAS I HERE?
WHAT AM I SUPPOSE TO SEE
IF THERE IS NOTHING TO SEE?
AT THE SAME TIME
I SEE LOSS OF LIFE,
EVEN IF, IT'S ONLY CROPS.
IN A WAY I SEE
THE STARVATION
OF FARM LAND.
PREVENTING MOTHER NATURE
FROM PRODUCING
OR REPRODUCING LIFE.
LIFE IS GREAT,
FANTASTIC,
INCREDIBLE
AND AT TIMES
UNBELIEVABLE.
THIS SCENIC VISION IS
UN BELIEVABLE.
SIMPLY.... UNBELIEVABLE.
Michael E.Harris
02172021
Barnyard buddies met in the barn at dawn.
We jumped in puddles, looking for meadow fawn.
She came sometimes, but was not here today.
Wonder why a chick said; I hope she’s okay!
We are close to each other, like sisters and bros.
We sit in the barnyard next to where tall corn grows.
Horse, cow, lambs, hen, rooster, and two kinds of pig.
We like to converse as the people plant, hoe and dig.
We are barnyard buddies, fast friends for sure.
A kind of instant family. Our thoughts are pure.
We love the scent of the country, even that of manure.
Loving the lilacs, and the flash of a fluffy fox fur.
We can talk about everything or nothing at all.
We watch the crops as they grow big and tall.
Pumpkins are my favorite, so orange and round.
In October they are all over our farmer’s ground.
The light of the moon is the comfort of the night,
and the flight of dreams sees by its golden glow.
The stars that surround its corona are as jewels,
that lay upon the moons' black velvet shoulders.
The mountain wolves call to announce their need,
for the god of golden light to bring back better days.
The natives bow and call the moon the night king,
for he tells them when to plant their sacred crops.
The wandering stranger is talking absentmindedly,
to the only friend and companion, he can count on.
Moonbeams stream through the ancient woodland,
where the creatures of fantasy dance in its illumine.
The light of the moon is the comfort of the night,
and upturned faces bathe in its resplendent glory!
3/8/2020
A little snow and a little rain
Oops
Heavy snow and heavy shower
Ouch
Strong wind with thunder and lightening
Boom
The moon has almost completed its journey
around the world and is still searching for a
comfortable spot to radiate its beaming light.
It searches dark secret places
untie deceptive knots and withdraw secret plugs.
It burst chains and shackles with its powerful light
and smiles at us as it ripples through thick dark clouds
clearing rough spots unveiling secret patches,
repairing painful damages and ironing out crooked paths.
The bold moon is pregnant with rain it’s weeping for the
Mothers, wailing for the children and lamenting over the youths.
Animals are getting jittery they jump and prance in the middle
Of the night as the moon tries to complete its full circle.
Cows are on heat
radiation increases causing mankind to lose their sleep.
They become disagreeable and socially unreliable.
Farmers are anxious too they do not know which beam
The moon will disburse
If it rains moderately the crop will flourish
If it rains heavily the crops will perish
If the north wind blows it will overturn everything in its path
If the east wind blow we will be saved from its terrible wrath.
Prepare the land for the moon’s circle
Gather all the grains in the barns
If you sow corn you will reap corn
If you sow love you will reap love
If you sow peas you will reap peas
If you sow kindness you will reap kindness
If you sow compassion you will reap compassion.
Be prepared the full moon is about to complete its full circle.
©2014 Christine Phillips
Heavy rainfall fully emptied the streets,
A thunderclap shattered the loud silence,
Frightened animals made some quiet noise,
Smiling cries from the sky mocked the city,
Farm crops sadly rejoiced to the warm cold.
That day, rain was their friendly enemy.
The next day, dried wetness was everywhere.
Light shadows of the sunshine were laid bare,
Skin pores poured out stored water from within.
Previous rainfall drought dried out the skin.
Many beg the sky to release more rains,
Cold waves of heat from yesterday just fled.
That long-lost comfort can't just be so brief.
The dried tears of the sky just have to stop.
The once battlefields of Flanders
Were soon clothed with Poppy red
Perhaps a natural reflection of
All the blood that had been shed.
The War Cemeteries laid out
In lines of stones or crosses
A constant stark reminder of
The scale of a nation’s losses.
Each bearing rank and name
Just brutally stating the fact
Listing the tragedy of a war
And it’s inevitable impact.
Many of them are anonymous
Their identities not known
Only that they were casualties.
The battlefields had grown.
With a simple inscription
That could say no more
In carved block letters
A soldier of the Great War
Crops of simple monuments
Like lines and rows of teeth
Signifying to the world at large
A hero lies interred beneath.
Though visitors know
Just what to expect
The very magnitude
Brings stunned respect
Some stand in silence
Some stand and cry
Some quietly ask
The simple question why?
It's Time To Work Together
By Franklin Price
11/11/2016
It's time to work together
We've hooked the horse up to the plow
The voting's done and gone
We must make a solemn vow
We the people chose the person
Must vow to overcome our fear
Let him pull the plow share now
Grow good crops on from here
Watch the rows develop
They must be straight and true
Help move the stones that turn up
Won't grow crops for me and you
Don't be that stone that's in the way
Be the plow that tills the ground
That grows the crops to feed us
Or we'll no longer be around
Congress is the farmer
The people are the plow
The President the draft horse
That pulls us on from now
We all must work together
Every row from pass to pass
Don't be the stone that's in the way
Or another horse's ass
Treacherous drops, millions all at one time,
High and low, ferociously banging on tin rooftops
Unifying into ponds in deep crevices of grime,
Never ceasing to flood the farmers field of crops
Drenching everything in sight from daytime to nighttime
Eventually culminating with ferocious roars over mountaintops,
Raging across the sky while the flashing of electric light never stops.
Suddenly, as though by some invisible curtain,
The intoxicating, earthly aroma of rainfall gone,
Over downy clouds, blue skies decide to peek through for certain,
‘Round the treetops, chirping and singing carries on
Meanwhile the sun resumes its duty to shed its glow at dawn.