Golden ribbons stretch as far as the eye can see,
A boundless sea under the sun's gentle light,
Where every stalk of amber wheat sways free,
Unfolding a vision so breathtakingly bright.
The wind comes whispering low from the west,
Tracing soft ripples across the warm, heavy grain,
Turning the quiet soil into a restless crest,
Rolling like oceans over the open plain.
Each gust carves tides through the deep golden hue,
A shimmering swell of honey, brass, and straw,
Rising and falling like waves in the blue,
Holding the heart in a silent, reverent awe.
Above the calm surge, the warm air comes alive,
As jewel-toned dragonflies shimmer and gleam,
While tiny gold midges weave through the hive,
And lacewings float past like a summer day's dream.
High in the canvas of an immaculate sky,
A crisp wedge of swans cuts through the soft white,
In perfect formation, soaring gracefully high,
Shadows drifting over the field in their flight.
Picture-perfect and still, yet endlessly in motion,
The earth paints a masterpiece under the sun—
Where the dry prairie wheat turns into an ocean,
And heaven and harvest are woven as one.
.
wheat
such handsome
thuh
gold shift'n
beautifully
with push
each
thuh wind
bendz
with mine
each
push
hern harvest'en
with ourn
each
swerve veer bend
seed'did
lock'd
blazing sun in fields
cicadas hum in the trees~
heavy air stands still
dust clouds rise and drift
fields of wheat bow to the wind~
air humid and stiff
heat waves waltz on roads
cool water runs in the creek~
daylight holds its load
warm twilight now sprawls
stars blink in the velvet night~
tall shadows on walls.
Rose behind back, plenty to choose.
Her pensive eyes, her pretty blues.
The stems have thorns, her bow is black.
Plenty to choose, rose behind back.
In dusk’s ripe wheat, this gypsy mourns.
Her bow is black, the stems have thorns.
The shoulders’ bare, her curves are sweet.
This gypsy mourns, in dusk’s ripe wheat.
Though sun is hot, her flesh is fair.
Her curves are sweet, the shoulders’ bare.
Man reaches out, found a nice spot.
Her flesh is fair, though sun is hot.
There’s crushing buds, where seeds sprout.
Found a nice spot, man reaches out.
Garden sobbing with prickly suds.
Where seeds do sprout, there’s crushing buds.
Petals wilting, center’s throbbing.
With prickly suds, garden sobbing.
Dirty affair, the soil’s tilting.
Center’s throbbing, petals wilting.
struggling to get out of sin chrysalis strengthen muscles of soul to fly
I love making hand made bread
so natural as they said
hot and fresh from my oven
How so healthy to take in!
Zero and one
It's either fear or loyalty
None or all
Unless you don't smell
You should be able to spell
Forget probability
There isn't a chance of half
All have got to take it a turn
Take it or leave it
Everyone is good living for one
Those who fake it
Never come with a gain
They all end up with sparkling vain
For the cruels
Are the easy scary dwells
And of those that are kind
Each got a peaceful mind
But while the enemy of my enemy
Has become my friend
And who is that?
God
Am gonna cope with the irony of life
Which per chance cum treats of genuine love
Like a seeming old imaginary bold story
Life is binary!
Everyone knows
how the story goes
when down in the meadow
without his horse-drawn dray
the wheat farmer and his dog
had quite the fun-filled field day
altho' no longer spanking-new
but with all gears meshing
he had his combine harvester
give the crop a damn good threshing
One lazy summer could I
As one stem of lie!
To feel as that grass, tranced sways
A hand the wind in!
Unseen moreo'er - divine!
Lady's - overfine!
Sent which state in, just as hazed.
Gold dreams burgeoning!
Untitled 1
golden sun shines bright
amber waves of wheat grains in fields~
nature`s nice gift.
Bright Sight- MK
golden sun
beige wheat grains in fields~
nature`s gift.
No wheat,
No dairy, sweet,
Trim, neat!
Haiku 50
wheat field bathed in gold
grain shafts, wind sways them all~
time for harvest in fall.
. . .
. . . . . .
.\ I /. .\ I /. .\ I /. \ \ \
\I/ \I/ \I/ \ \ \
\I/ \I/ \I/ l
I I I l
I I I a
----------------------
• • • • • • • • • • • m
w ~h ~e ~a ~t f ~i ~e ~l ~d b-a-t-h-e-d in g-o-l-d e
h
g-r-a-i-n s-h-a-f-t-s, w-i-n-d s ~w ~a ~y ~s t
t ~I ~m ~e f-o-r h-a-r-v-e-s-t in f-a-l-l.
She lay down
among the verdant wheat
listening to swishing overtures,
supine, eyes slightly closed;
relishing the blue of a spring sky
wishing she were the white cloud
that appeared out of nowhere...
envious of the free spirit
she could have been.
Von der lye-ing says there is a beast.'
Snarly and growly, its out in the east.'
quyeer and macron; rutter complain
All un-masked' their con-vid lies well slain!
Even bread is bugged, this report is the least!
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