Long Harvesters Poems
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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.
The helicopter is tired
of poking its probiscus
into the dam
In the fields
the harvesters are
looking for somewhere
to rest a while
As you climb your
stairwell to heaven
on every other floor
you hear applause
once it was the echoes of despair
but now your bike
has no gears
and the shavings of
your mind you used
to use for fuel
have all burnt up
and the helicopter
is tired again
the stairwell has
become a labyrinth
and the harvesters continue
not to find rest
but the probiscus
has given you a fever
that if you were a child
it would have
finished right there
but you keep climbing
like the smoke
driven ever upwards
by the heat
of the inferno
way down below
but that's
as it is.
Oh! that wars may cease
Oh! that peace may reign
Oh! that men may seize
brutes who are the bane
of societal peace
so that peace and love
may never be lost
nor our fragile trust
become precarious.
May our many foes
be saved from death's throes,
may tanks be plowshares
and guns harvesters.
May our daily cares
on neighbours be cast.
May all our youngsters
cease evil to learn
by working to earn
their wages by day.
Oh! may the boisterous
child be not consumed
by his fatal fall.
Oh! that people may
seek good roles to play
in a world so small
and shaped like a ball.
Oh! that we may fast
comprehend the times,
as the clock bell chimes,
and all our callous
deeds be not resumed.
"We are the wandering wonders forever readying ourselves until our next show and we will be even more spectacular than any of our previous performances where we shall not only marvel at ourselves, but we shall dazzle you our world audience
with our refreshing and mesmerizing brand new us." ... by Poet
“we woke up early one morn, ego shorn
it felt as though we were in form
nodes within stirred, boundaries blurred
our head and heart, with love, concurred”
Do I anticipate, be I forethought,
plan, cautious, store-bought, or am I free thought,
or should I turn and be an afterthought?
Flipflop, reverse or have a second thought.
Mayhaps I be the one in the mirror,
behind the glass or in front, be clearer.
Tell me true, tell me blue, or who's nearer.
Where does consciousness stand; bring your shearer.
Former victims serving others in need.
Lost times we wonder who does a good deed,
deep in prayer, our sins washed, we succeed.
Reclaim, recover, get back, now we're freed.
When we crossed the lines, didn't think it would count,
after all, 'tis a concocted account.
No rhyme or reason, or scheme to surmount.
Pique cross fallacy or clarity fount.
Reincarnation, its majority
tether nature's beast and humanity.
Genesis claims Eden and Ark, singly.
Man and beast aren't one, Christianity.
Pews be filled, constant prayers forgiving.
Pews be emptied, constant those be sinning.
Our measured worth is primed for exampling.
Pews new souls earn Heaven's Gate opening.
Our eyes were opened, filled with empathy.
And see what's meant to be, and not to be.
We're led astray, but here we stay, Glory!
We had learned all about Jesus's story.
They'll be messengers, one true, and one naught.
They'll be harvesters, most rot, others fought.
They'll be winged handlers, who'll descend when caught.
They'll be winged handlers, who'll ascend those brought.
Coffee beans, a world in a grain,
Roasted and ground, a caffeinated refrain.
Born in the tropics, where the sun meets the shade,
A journey unfolds from bush to brewed cascade.
In the highland realms where the arabica dreams,
And the robusta thrives by mountain streams,
Emerald hills with leaves of green,
Cradle the cherries, a ruby sheen.
Harvesters toil under the sun's warm kiss,
Gently plucking the beans, pure coffee bliss.
Hand in hand with the seasons they dance,
A delicate choreography, nature's romance.
From the fields, the beans embark on a quest,
To the roaster's chamber, where flavors manifest.
The symphony of crackles, a transformation in heat,
Awakening aromas, a sensory feat.
Medium, dark, or a blonde delight,
The roaster's art shapes the beans' flight.
Aromas unfurl, as flavors entwine,
In a fragrant journey, both robust and fine.
Grinding whispers echo in the morning air,
As anticipation rises, a ritual to declare.
Into the press or the espresso machine,
The grounds prepare for their aqueous sheen.
Brewing, a ballet of water and bean,
A liquid alchemy, a potion unseen.
Espresso, pour-over, or a steaming cup,
A daily elixir, waking spirits up.
In coffee shops bustling, a caffeinated hum,
Baristas crafting creations, a skillful strum.
Latte art blooms, a canvas of cream,
A masterpiece fleeting, in each sip's gleam.
Coffee beans, a humble seed's legacy,
A ritual, a culture, a worldwide legacy.
In each fragrant cup, a story unfolds,
A journey in every sip, as the coffee beholds.
Saints & Sinners in the Church / God's Patience with Sinners / Final Judgment
MT 13:24-30, 36-43
He proposed another parable to them
"The kingdom of heaven
May be likened to a man
Who sowed good seed in his field
While everyone was asleep
His enemy came
Sowed weeds all through the wheat
Then went off
When the crop grew
Bore fruit
The weeds appeared
As well
The laves of the householder came to him
And said
'Master, did you not sow good seed in your field?
Where have the weeds come from?'
He answered, 'An enemy has done this.' His slaves said to him,
'Do you want us to go and pull them up?'
He replied, 'No, if you pull up the weeds you might uproot the wheat along with them.
Let them grow together until harvest;
Then at harvest time I will say to the harvesters
"First collect the weeds
Tie them in bundles for burning;
but gather the wheat into my barn."
"He who sows good seed
The Son of Man
The field is the world
The good seed the children of the kingdom
The weeds
Are the children of the evil one
The enemy who sows them
The devil
The harvest is the end of the age
The harvesters are angels
Just as weeds are collected and burned (up) with fire
So will it be at the end of the age
The Son of Man will send his angels
They will collect out of his kingdom
All who cause others to sin
All evildoers
They will throw them into the fiery furnace
Where there will be wailing and grinding of teeth
Then the righteous will shine like the sun
In the kingdom of their Father.
Whoever has ears ought to hear." (Taken from MT 13:24-30, 37-43)
J.
Form:
(Saints & Sinners in the Church / God's Patience with Sinners / Final Judgment
MT 13:24-30, 36-43)
He proposed another parable to them
"The kingdom of heaven may be likened to a man who sowed good seed in his field
While everyone was asleep his enemy came
sowed weeds all through the wheat then went off.
When the crop grew and bore fruit, the weeds appeared as well
The laves of the householder came to him and said,
'Master, did you not sow good seed in your field? Where have the weeds come from?'
He answered, 'An enemy has done this.' His slaves said to him, 'Do you want us to go and pull them up?'
He replied, 'No, if you pull up the weeds you might uproot the wheat along with them. Let them grow together until harvest;
Then at harvest time I will say to the harvesters
"First collect the weeds and tie them in bundles for burning; but gather the wheat into my barn."
"He who sows good seed is the Son of Man, the field is the world, the good seed the children of the kingdom.
The weeds are the children of the evil one, and the enemy who sows them is the devil.
The harvest is the end of the age, and the harvesters are angels.
Just as weeds are collected and burned (up) with fire, so will it be at the end of the age.
The Son of Man will send his angels, and they will collect out of his kingdom all who cause others to sin and all evildoers.
They will throw them into the fiery furnace, where there will be wailing and grinding of teeth.
Then the righteous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father.
Whoever has ears ought to hear." (Taken from MT 13:24-30, 37-43)
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
A naked bleakness dressed with sparkling stars,
Dance sweetly taffaria fairies wands,
Auburn burnish Terra foundation scars,
Strewn light rods frock poise for their eager bonds.
Savor sparked light, plated of painted blends,
Generous crops hatched for harvesters pluck,
Heap hued leaves for dives of little friends,
Grand to behold as worn eyes are awed struck.
As the sinking filters down to deaths floor,
Achromatic crystals shroud their being,
Neath browns fertile soil rebirth of its core,
Hibernates for pardoned Spring, their freeing.
Limelight a year; birth, life, dying and death,
Mirror fleeting truth and our fragile breath.
*taffaria; Fairies' wings are made of a special material called taffaria. This ultra-strong, silky and transparent material is clear at first glance but has all 7 colors of the rainbow in it. Red, purple, yellow, pink, blue, green, and orange.
2019 November 04
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14 lines x 10 syllables - 140 syllables total
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.