He who does not cultivate his field, will die of hunger.
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He who does not cultivate his field will die of hunger.
He, who does not cultivate his field, will die of hunger.
Forgotten Fertility Myth
Pranab k c
27/06/2011
a deep depression
carries monsoon again
its raining
five days at a stretch
day and night
she is wet
her chastity
waiting to be ploughed
soil so soft
to be mould in creation
plough hard
my peasant friend
pour dropp to form seed
your personal rain
would make her corny
every dream
of your personal cloud
would make her smile festive
fertile soil seeks seedling
cultivate you the peasant
cultivate hard
cultivate with care
cultivate with unending passion
She waits to bear all the pain
for a pleasure of exposing a life again
poem by Pranab K. Chakraborty
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Wanting, not the want is the cause.
Hunger for porridge, hunger for desserts,
Or hunger for wine makes one steal.
Hunger for shelter, hunger for power,
Or hunger for sex makes one steal.
Hunger dies not. So is the stealing.
19.04.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Pride Of Men
Field works dimly camouflage attrition
These pomegranate hands who cultivate
Trenches of dusk squeal to those lesser seen
In Labyrinths of detachment
We feed upon this which but only grows
These pomegranate hands who cultivate
Our strength is swoon but stars do also rise
From our hands we pass on to daybreaks next
We feed upon this which but only grows
Our march is marsh, to scavenge the land
And when demised the green for moments
From our hands we pass on to daybreaks next
And in that moment of such starry watch
Thus bares the seeds to that of all we strive
Though strength still meek through stripe of strife
We stature ourselves upon what we heap
poem by Scott J. Shepard
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I am not hungry
I am not hungry
Hunger is not mine
I am free from hunger.
Hunger is a butterfly
Come to it and welcome it
Wonderland you reach
Without hunger
You could not move an inch
And how you changed yourself
Hunger will tell
Wait a minute.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Therefore I feel that the aforementioned guiding principle must be modified to read: If you desire peace, cultivate justice, but at the same time cultivate the fields to produce more bread; otherwise there will be no peace.
quote by Norman Borlaug
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hunger Hunger To Worship
hunger hunger building up in heart
hunger hunger mounting building up in soul
hunger need hunger grows grows needs to be sated
hunger need hunger need to worship to worship God
hunger ache pain growing need to rush run to God
to rush back to God’s arms as we met in gift creativity
our souls are out back out upon swift flowing healing water
we are together carried over all all lighter darker ink water
we are together giving always giving love throughout time
hunger hunger to love worship universe creator our God
poem by Terence George Craddock
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To cultivate trees, you need 10 years. To cultivate people, you need 100 years.
Born With The Hunger
Hear the coyote howl
He's found his pray at last
In one moment of weakness
The chase is over so fast
He celebrates his kill
No mercy in his eyes
When you're born with the hunger
The hunger never dies
Midnight is on the prowl
And I hear it call my name
Danger lurks in the shadows
But it's all part of a game
Until I quench this thirst
I will not close these eyes
When you're born with the hunger
The hunger never dies
You and I, we're the same
We both carry this flame
To depths of our souls
Once the fever awakes
We can never escape
It's beyond our control
We're both born with the hunger
Oh with the hunger
Temptation bites your lip
One kiss ignites the fire
So begins the seduction
As we succumb to desire
Your body aches for more
Why are you so surprised
When you're born with the hunger
The hunger never dies
When you're born with the hunger
The hunger - it never dies
Never dies
When you're born with the hunger It never dies
When you're born with the hunger Oh, it never dies
He celebrates the kill
You're born with the hunger
It never dies
song performed by by Cher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The hunger
the hunger thinks the rice
can chew both skin and bone
the hunger thinks it's nice
to eat although forlorn
the hunger thinks the corn
can swallow ears and eyes
deaf blind hunger born
self eaten within it dies
the hunger thinks the food
is just a body's unfair breath
the hunger knows the interlude
no food the body eats itself
the hunger thinks the body rotten
is just a place to survive and eat
the hunger of the lost and forgotten
makes its way to the last heart beat
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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A Story of sparrow and dimple
A group of sparrow
Waft /glide fly on
The yellow padi outspread
Like ronggeng dancer who
Fling her yellows shawl/scarf/muffler
A girl walking
Among the padi tree, her lips
Smile with dimple
On her cheek
She never tired seed
Of her hope
Since her father cultivate the land
With her mother she prepare
Food
Mow plant
Till bear fruit
A group of sparrow
Waft glide on
The yellow padi outspread
While a group of girl
Yell and catchy the field fiend
Frighten away of sparrow group
Who will rip their hope?
A group of sparrow
Fly to find their food
The yellow padi field
On the field had no inmate
In the hectares ocean of ooze
A group of sparrow
Fly with no hope
Is looking the yellow padi field
Who never found it everywhere?
Because there is no life
Just ooze everywhere
The girls muse over
With no hope
In the rice field
That no sparrow flies
On that field
That cannot frighten away
Of her distress
Because there is no life
Only ooze
Ooze
No live
poem by Prasetya Utama
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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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Wandering off
We are like wandering mines in the mirror of the waters,
preparat to hitts mercilessly hims who opens our door.
We kill love, saving our pride,
we bury the truth and cultivate the lie.
Returning from wandering, we bow with eyes weeping in appearance,
digging with our hunger for the truth.
poem by Camelia Oprița (27 November 2007), translated by Camelia Opriţa
Submitted by Alexander
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Scare-crow and a twitter bird
You stuck in the mud full time
and no progress but alert all the time.
There is no praise from your master.
This field is too big for you
and I would like to be your partner.
Living in a remote place together
we can cultivate in a small area
just for our living.
I will sing for you day and night till I die.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Either way one is restless
Power of hunger in some is so deep
that it is insatiate with rich food.
Power of lust in some is likewise.
It does not rest with an able better half.
Hunger for power or sex in some is so,
And never deplete though fed, till the end.
Power of hunger, power of lust
and hunger for power, hunger for lust
are restless and endless.
28012.2000, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Field of Battle
I walked the field of battle,
eerie silence accompanied me.
The bitter odor of confrontation,
lingered mutely in the air.
I trod where warriors clashed.
Did my imagination soar, or.
Could I hear in the quiet,
sounds of dying souls?
Everywhere I stepped, I touched,
mute tokens of conflict.
Haunting evidence of siege.
I shuddered as the chill of fear caressed me.
On scorched earth a helmet laid.
What account might it cradle?
Who once had been its owner?
Had it been discarded, or orphaned?
An empty boot, a broken blade,
a long gun supported by bayonet.
Dented helmet graced the butt.
Had once young hero rested here?
In this field of battle,
‘midst smoke, fire, screams.
Did valor accompany fear,
and violence cultivate history?
What lie hidden, covered,
in these now so silent meads?
Were fainthearted to become hero,
had victors, and vanquished, dwelled together?
I wondered,
as I walked the field of battle.
10FEB06
poem by Kurt Hearth
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On a Small Touch of Hunger
A small touch of hunger sometimes is good
True hunger in truth never being good
While flase hunger is something for which to watch
Food being the great drug of our time
With which we anesthetize much more than hunger
Beware food as a drug which masks the deeper pain.
poem by Bill Grace
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Krisco Kisses
(gill/johnson/nash/otoole)
*thunder thunder
I love that thunder- yeah
Hunger hunger
You feed my hunger - yeah
Hunger hunger
**take it to the top my love
Lets take it to the top
With a fist way past the rest
Take it to the top
***you fit me like a glove, my love
You fit me like a glove
Be my friend my be-bop
Take it to the top my love
****krisco kisses, kisses
Never misses, misses
Krisco kisses, kisses
You can take it up, up and up
*(repeat)
**(repeat)
You fit me like a glove my love
My little puppet glove
Be my friend, my be-bop
Take it to the top, my love oh
Yeah
****(repeat)
Higher, higher
I love that thunder
You feed my hunger
Higher, higher
I love that thunder
You feed my hunger
Hunger, hunger
Hunger, hunger
Hunger, hunger
You fit me like a glove my love
You fit me like a glove
You fit me like a glove my love
You fit me like a glove
***(repeat)
****(repeat)
song performed by by Frankie Goes To Hollywood
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hungry
I hunger
lying on my bed
in the shaded dark.
I hunger for you,
my stomach
wrenching
and I verge
on crying
the need so intense.
I roll
sideways
in the bed,
I flail
my arms
lift and slam them down
by my side
as I try to pound
that hunger away.
I hunger for you.
I need.
I walk to the bathroom
and peer at the face
to see what need looks like.
It is gaunt.
It is sleepy eyed.
it is unflattering.
I whirl away;
can't look.
and I sit
down
head in hand;
can't go back to bed
and can't continue to just sit.
I'm already back in the room
my hand on the phone.
It rings.
I say
'Oh nothing
I was just thinking about you.'
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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