Harvest the grapes as soon as they mature while there is still good dry weather.
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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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Rhine Wine
our best times
are a fine wine
the mature wine
soil carefully tilled
years of planting
cultivating the vine
years of planting
growing pruning
fertilizing harvesting
harvest grapes
harvested aged
to be full drunk
by the firelight
in the evening
of our solitude
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Good Weather
This good weather ruined me,
I resigned in such a weather
From my government job.
I got used to tobacco in such a weather,
I fell in love in such a weather;
I forgot to take home bread and salt
In such a weather;
My disease of writing poems
Recurred in such a weather;
This good weather ruined me.
poem by Orhan Veli Kanik
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Love - Mad And Mature
Mad love leads to terrorism
Mature love gets to Gandhism
Mad love makes one wicked
Mature love makes life sublime
Mad love kindles body
Mature love ennobles the soul
Mad love binds the spirit
Mature love releases the bond
Mad loves brings pain
Mature love provides pleasure
Mad love breeds acrimony
Mature love brings harmony
Mad love hinders progress
Mature love helps success
Discard mad love, develop mature love
Make life pleasant and world a happy house!
poem by Subbaraman N V
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I inherited that calm from my father, who was a farmer. You sow, you wait for good or bad weather, you harvest, but working is something you always need to do.
quote by Miguel Indurain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Foxes in My Vineyard
One fair even, at the eve of last summer,
In the green and fertile country fields
Where grew luscious ears of 'eschol' grapes
I lingered by the Ploughman's hedge
Held in glee as plush tendrils cloaked tall stakes
And far afield, an endless pleach of virid vines.
I sought to see the blest, plush plums
Sired by those lustful ears of vine
''Those too, ought be plummy plush'', thought i
For to strum of the grapes there borne i craved
But lo, the vines though lush, the grapes...? All gone!
I scarce could take it true
For harvest yet looms a distant far!
But who had wrought this spiteful deed,
And where had all the green grapes gone?
But soon lunged forth a fox for the brushes green
Twas meet to set my curious soul yet agrief.
And so mused i, how like this vineyard green
A many a fellow, squalor within, splendour without!
Bade bare by ravenous foxes lot
For whilst we shy behind swaddling folds at the blush of dawn
A vixen creepeth in the meadow without!
poem by Nwaga Philip
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Good Weather,
Good Weather,
Good Weather is a Treasure,
In all Solitude,
Good Weather hast value than Monetary.
poem by Maxim Muyu
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We ought to do good to others as simply as a horse runs, or a bee makes honey, or a vine bears grapes season after season without thinking of the grapes it has borne.
quote by Marcus Aurelius
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Harvest and Autumn
Harvest, harvest
all you need,
is food and drink
and fruit indeed.
Harvest friend is harvest moon,
of course.
Autumn, Autumn
Harvest is in Autumn,
oh, what a great time to celebrate! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
poem by Karolina Gosztyla
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Confused Atmosphere
Mother Nature may be confused, just like those, who have used,
This demeaning title to describe, the very God they have denied,
The Lord God, Who orders all, weather patterns, great and small,
He may never enter their minds, while stirring weather of all kinds.
Confused He isn't or will not be, for He is The Lord of all Eternity,
He is God of Order, up above; controlling weather men speak of,
And they truly don't understand, He controls the weather at hand,
Confusing only meteorologists, who dream Mother Nature exists.
They forecast the weather to come, not aware of where it is from,
Knowing not who is really behind, the weather they bring to mind,
Being shaken and very surprised, when it's not as they surmised,
But taking credit from their peers, for saying good weather nears.
Often times, you may even note, as weather is good some gloat,
About the returning of the sun, as if, it's something they've done,
Even though they may shy away, as bad weather comes our way,
Almost with a real reverence to, The Lord, to whom it is truly due.
For He is The Creator of this earth, Ruler over the whole universe,
He has, and always will control, all weather patterns, big or small,
With change meteorologists see, that fools the latest technology,
And it's those who have refused, God's Truth, who are confused.
When you uproot vines as you plant vines, you'll never harvest the grapes.
Zorba
The tears are hiding behind
the corners of his eyes,
welling but held at bay.
The days are swelling
like the dead porpoise
shot in the head.
Rarely...meaning so much...
from love to good steak,
to your streak of good luck.
And I dreamed Zorba the Greek
said to me, 'If you eat grapes
you're left with the stems.
I'm left with the days of my life
and the grapes have all gone down
And all I have left
are seeds and stems.
poem by Midnights Voice
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cranky
Maybe it is the weather
That makes you grow crankier
Or better yet the hormone
That lets you give an acidic tone.
I do not care if you review,
Please be kind in all you do.
Today maybe your very last,
For life is over, oh so fast.
We all have joy to try and write,
And all you here we do invite.
No one's perfect so be true -
If you're not happy, say 'Adieu! '
Kindness is the best to give
Adds sunshine to this life we live.
We may not have a lot of money,
That's better than to be so cranky.
You'll end up with a lot of lines,
And with your words, please be refined.
For it reflects the heart inside,
Those sour grapes are hard to hide.
'The good man brings good things out of the good stored up in him...'
MATTHEW 12: 35a
July 10,2008
Cynthia BuhainBaello
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Between the bad man and the bad weather, I prefer the bad weather, because I know that tomorrow will be good weather.
aphorism by George Budoi (25 October 2010)
Submitted by George Budoi
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A farmer does not boast that he has had a good harvest until his stock of yams lasts till the following harvest season.
The one who doesn't sow
The one who doesn't sow
will never get the harvest
and lives on others good.
The one who understands it
is the wisest.
That one
will gather heavy harvest
from any little rood.
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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Good Weather,
Good Weather,
Good Weather is Essential,
It will help us grow from failure,
To great Health.
poem by Maxpoet Beauty
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September
1 The golden-rod is yellow;
2 The corn is turning brown;
3 The trees in apple orchards
4 With fruit are bending down.
5 The gentian's bluest fringes
6 Are curling in the sun;
7 In dusty pods the milkweed
8 Its hidden silk has spun.
9 The sedges flaunt their harvest,
10 In every meadow nook;
11 And asters by the brook-side
12 Make asters in the brook,
13 From dewy lanes at morning
14 The grapes' sweet odors rise;
15 At noon the roads all flutter
16 With yellow butterflies.
17 By all these lovely tokens
18 September days are here,
19 With summer's best of weather,
20 And autumn's best of cheer.
21 But none of all this beauty
22 Which floods the earth and air
23 Is unto me the secret
24 Which makes September fair.
25 'T is a thing which I remember;
26 To name it thrills me yet:
27 One day of one September
28 I never can forget.
poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
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Are They Real?
Your grapes are so real
I can smell it from here.
Your grapes are so real,
I can almost taste it from here.
Your grapes are so real,
I reach out to touch it from here,
Really? I'm not sure they are not real.
I have some green grapes at their best
I have some green grapes at their best
And I am waiting for you to pass by
For these grapes are of such great taste
It is the truth so I swear and so I sigh
They were raised upon mountains high
where the wind softly blow
and a herd of wild horses feeds nigh
on tall grass blades rooted grow
So this is why my grapes are so sweet
The mountain spring by them lead
Tall reeds guard the gates
To keep out the ugly crow’s gait
Quietly my green grapes wait
For the clock sounds the hour late
What makes you hesitate?
What makes you not keep your date?
Therefore my grapes are so sad
And I am waiting not have gone yet to bed
But here I hear approaching steps from the south
My green grapes are full of hopes for your mouth
But still I am so lonely and sad
Since to bring flowers you forbade
May be next year you change your mind
And to my request you be more kind
And I will bring you flowers from the bowers
Wet with rain of rainbow showers
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