I have marched in many a battle host, but I have also planted seeds and reaped the harvest with my own hands. And I have learned there is greater honor in a field well plowed than in a field steeped in blood.
quote by Lloyd Alexander
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Related quotes
Plowed, Planted, And Weeded
the human mind
is but a field...
it has to be plowed,
planted and weeded..
it needs sunlight and rain.
if the gardener is attentive,
the crop will be good.
if we let it lay untended,
it becomes a field of death!
the crop that we raise
is the food of the future...
plowed, planted, and weeded!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Must Dropp The Seed
i am the field, plowed fertile field
near the river
some dogs are buried within me
some snakes live here
i know their wishes and desire
somehow i wait for you as the rain
and you as the sower
of the seeds
pour some sweat of your brow
and let your arms swing
let the seeds
fall
that is all i want
that is all that i am waiting for
just dropp the seed
and i will let them grow
then you can leave
i will take care of the snakes
and i will always remember all the dogs sleeping here
now you must leave
the seeds shall grow spontaneously as i watch the seasons change
t
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Seeds Of War
When the seeds of war are sown,
hardly is it ever known
who has planted it
and what for?
Was it about
blood and gore?
When the seeds of war take root
it's hidden reasons make us mute.
Why was it planted
and by whom?
Was its purpose
doom and gloom?
When the seeds of war are grown
never is it ever shown
how it is planted
in men's mind?
How it's made them
all so blind.
When the seeds of war do thrive
many will not be alive.
They'll be planted
in false graves.
These seeds propel
how the world behaves.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Harvest For The World
All babies together
Evry one a seed
Half of us are satisfied
The other half of us in need
Loves bountiful in us
Tarnished by our greed
Oh, when will there be a harvest.. for the world?
(harvest for the world)
A nations planted
So concerned with gain
As the seasons come and go, we wont wait in vain
Far too many, feelin the strain
(chorus)
(a harvest.. a harvest)
(a harvest.. a harvest)
(a harvest.. a harvest)
(a harvest.. a harvest)
(a harvest for the world)
Dress me up for battle
When all I want is peace
Those of us who pay the price
Come home with the least
And nation after nation, tuning into beasts
(chorus)
When will there be.. a harvest
When will there be.. a harvest
When will there be.. a harvest
When will there be.. a harvest
When will there be.. a harvest
When will there be.. a harvest
When will there be.. a harvest..
song performed by by Duran Duran
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love Field
You lie so unfolded
In a love field
With your contempt for any modesty
In a love field
In a love field
In a love field
You yield with your lips still sealed
In a love field
Lost in a sea of imaginary women
Everything youd want
From the dawn to the dimming
Breath comes sharp and heart beats faster
In a love field
Cold ground for a pillow
Under a blanket of stars
In a love field
In a love field
In a love field
Headlights that startled
This embrace of hours
In a love field
In a crooked house
Where things can be arranged
You think youre different from the rest
But you dont see how youve changed
Under an archway
On a road of white linen
In a love field
Feel the anxious rhythm of a functional stranger
In a love field
In a love field
In a love field
Shes so tense but its never mentioned
In a love field
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The harvest
Some sowed seeds of cabage.
They got the leaves as harvest..
Some grafted buds of oleander.
They got flowers as harvest.
Some planted ginger for rhizome,
And some, cinnamon for bark.
So are banana grown for fruits,
And cardamom, for seeds.
Some plants for wood or shades.
Planting is not for only seeds.
Loving is not for only progeny.
It includes sights, pursuits, chats,
Romance, embraces and indulgence,
Recollections and remembrance.
Pining and sorrow are by-products.
Each is a piece of harvest of love.
03.07.2000.Madras
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wounded vanity knows when it is mortally hurt and limps off the field, piteous, all disguises thrown away. But pride carries its banner to the last and fast as it is driven from one field unfurls it in another, never admitting that there is a shade less honor in the second field than in the first, or in the third than in the second.
quote by Helen Hunt Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Field Of Opportunity
Ive been wrong before
And Ill be there again
I dont have any answers my friend
Just this pile of old questions
My memory left me here
In the field of opportunity
Its plowin time again.
Im going back to my house
But Im not goin now
Its too early to be leaving here, somehow
Let me bore you with this story
How my lover let me down
While I borrow seeds of sadness
From the ground.
In the field of opportunity
Its plowin time again.
There aint no way of telling
Where these seeds will rise or when
Ill just wait around til springtime
And then, Ill find a friend
In the field of opportunity
Its plowin time again.
When Im all done cultivatin
Ill be rockin on the porch
Tryin to picture you and where you are
And therell be no hesitatin
When cupid lights the torch
With those headlights comin down the hill
Between the stars.
In the field of opportunity
Its plowin time again.
There aint no way of telling
Where these seeds will rise or when
Ill just wait around til springtime
And then, Ill find a friend
In the field of opportunity
Its plowin time again.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Fallow Field
I have kept this fallow field
When I must be a horseman,
A keeper of wills and minds
With no shadows, no designs.
Their hooves are planted
In the field so young in taste.
A fool clasps its mind
When evil shadows must be;
It must be the stallions
That bring joy to the very heart.
I am burdened by the boaster
Of this fallow field.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Good Will And Its Harvest
Goodwill is like the seed sown.
Leaving the field earlier
Or returning to the field late
Will miss you its harvest.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wars
honor of those who went
to war to fight for those
who they want to protect.
liberty of freedom, heroes
of our times,
the one who in arm we took
the ones who made us change
the on the battle field that took to protcet
kills and blood in the war
our brothers
and sister who fought in the war we
phrase you with glory and victory
perhap one day we will fight in war as well
they did for us.
poem by Andres Gonzalez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Working Poor!
the working poor
are like seeds planted
in a field....
if you plant enough,
you can cull the weaker ones,
and have a good crop
to do the job...
this is the mentality
that we have to change!
and it begins
with putting names
to each and every face!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Harvest For The World
Gather everyman, gather everywoman
Celebrate your lives, give thanks for your children
When will there be a harvest for all the people
When will there be a harvest for all the world
Harvest For The World
All babies together, everyone a seed
Half of us are satisfied, half of us in need
Love's bountiful in us, tarnished by our greed
When will there be a harvest for the world
A nation planted, so concerned with gain
As the seasons come and go, greater grows the pain
And far too many feelin' the strain
When will there be a harvest for the world
Gather everyman, gather everywoman
Celebrate your lives, give thanks for your children
Gather everyone, gather all together
Overlooking none, hopin' life gets better for the world
Dress me up for battle, when all I want is peace
Those of us who pay the price, come home with the least
Nation after nation, turning into beast
When will there be a harvest for the world
song performed by by Isley Brothers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You are not a man until you have plowed a field.
The Battle Cry Of Freedom (Southern Version)
Our flag is proudly floating
On the land and on the main,
Shout, shout the battle cry of Freedom!
Beneath it oft we've conquered,
And we'll conquer oft again!
Shout, shout the battle cry of Freedom!
CHORUS: Our Dixie forever!
She's never at a loss!
Down with the eagle
And up with the cross!
We'll rally 'round the bonny flag,
We'll rally once again,
Shout, shout the battle cry of Freedom!
Our gallant boys have marched
To the rolling of the drums,
Shout, shout the battle cry of Freedom!
And the leaders in charge cry out,
'Come, boys, come!'
Shout, shout the battle cry of Freedom!-CHORUS
They have laid down their lives
On the bloody battle field,
Shout, shout the battle cry of Freedom!
Their motto is resistance -
'To tyrants we'll not yield!'
Shout, shout the battle cry of Freedom!-CHORUS
While our boys have responded
And to the fields have gone,
Shout, shout the battle cry of Freedom!
Our noble women also
Have aided them at home,
Shout, shout the battle cry of Freedom!-CHORUS
poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Am... (Window Bare)
i am...
words spoken with dark skinned hunger,
battles fought in the realm of the heart.
right and wrong that convicts the motive.
the smell and the feel of all that is common.
the question asked in the silent church.
the blood spillt on the courthouse steps.
the language of factories, mills, and shifts.
the cast iron skillet well seasoned.
the field plowed, the seeds planted.
the man standing against the angry mob.
the body hanging from the gnarled old oak.
the prison cell, the stink of fear.
the lovers lost inside each other,
the old woman staring at dishes just washed.
the haunting whisper of buildings vacant.
the old man's body found three days later.
the fury of the neon streets,
the deal made, the blade withdrawn.
the soldier come home to homelessness.
the farm foreclosed by the unseen bank.
death and life, and faded jeans,
the lone rose wilting in the window bare!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Those Who Sow In Tears
The rains that fall from Heaven
Fall down upon our face
And the dawn is surely coming
Yet in the darkness we embrace
Perhaps you've never seen the dawn
Yet in your heart you know its true
That beyond the edge of all you know
There is a sky that's ever blue
To plough the field of perpetual winter
For a harvest never seen before
Is to walk in darkness without stumbling
Is to open up the heavenly door
What lies beyond, no one can see
Yet through the door there is no fears
This is a place where seeds are found
They are for those who sow in tears
And with the seeds and with our tears
We'll plough the fields until the end
With weeping hearts the seeds are watered
And then the harvest God will send
Then all our tears are wiped away
Our hearts are filled with laughter
We now embrace perpetual dawn
And blue skies ever after!
poem by Frank McEleny
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One, Two, One... For You
the dust in the empty pockets
of the poor man,
walking home from work.
the plowed field just planted,
at the feet of sun and rain.
the simple house built by hand,
lifetimes written into the walls.
the last touch, the last kiss,
the moment never forgotten....
hearts wrapped in hearts,
live and die as one...
one set of footprints,
one name on the stone.
one set of wings,
one fire, one clap of thunder.
two words spoken, two empty vases.
one heart, one hawk flying,
two hands times two,
one dream!
two sparrows part,
one nest, and one tree!
two sides, two faces...
one memory!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Tree in a Field
There once was a tree,
A tree alone in a field.
And as that tree grew
It got bigger than all 'round.
And people would often stop
Just to look at that tree,
That tree in a field.
Till one day one person,
Went and cut down that tree,
That tree in a field.
And you know what?
That tree learned one thing
Don't stand too tall too fast,
Or someone just might
Cut you down.
poem by Matthew Tener Wade
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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At The Un-National Monument Along The Canadian Border
This is the field where the battle did not happen,
where the unknown soldier did not die.
This is the field where grass joined hands,
where no monument stands,
and the only heroic thing is the sky.
Birds fly here without any sound,
unfolding their wings across the open.
No people killed – or were killed – on this ground
hallowed by neglect and an air so tame
that people celebrate it by forgetting its name.
poem by William Stafford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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