In the planting season visitors come singly, and in harvest time they come in crowds.
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Visitor Clever Theme Words
my visitors are voices clever words
my visitors arrive anywhere anytime
my visitors script film opera words
my visitors mirror parody depths mime
my visitors initiate connect life dots
my visitors represent patterns to define
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Best If Gravelled
Under the bushes,
Is where they swept and kept their dirt.
It was under the bushes...
Priorities fed to ignore any weeding grew.
It was under the bushes everyone knew,
From where the soiling of the lawn began.
And there under the bushes,
They can be seen digging deep...
Burning the midnight oil,
And not getting a bit of sleep...
To bury any traces of denial.
But the maintaining of the lawn,
Manicured as visitors expect...
Would be best if gravelled,
As many disgusted visitors suggest!
And quickly under the bushes,
A working continues...
To smooth over the dirt,
With a time released scenting...
Hopefully used for all to forget,
The influence of the bushes...
And the planting of them all regret.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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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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
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Inspired by Issa - Harvest Moonn
harvest moon -
the field flying
with broken stalks
harvest moon -
no more loud sighs
from the windy fields
harvest moon
thanksgiving incense
trails over fields
harvest moon
the garden echoes with plan
for the next season
inspired by
harvest moon-
some are stretched out
some praying
-Issa,1821
http: //cat.xula.edu/issa/
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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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
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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.
Wait For The Right Time
What grows on the earth? !
What is left to mankind?
But, do wait for the right time to come;
Then you can express yourself with your status.
Of the small planets,
Of the frozen planets,
Telescope, cope, slope, dope, rope, lope, scope, hope, mope;
And of these things!
Because, there is the planting time and of the harvest time.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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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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Success +9
Success is a good harvest
failure is not planting
(or not planning) .
poem by Edgar Arthur Tugman
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Holiday Debate
Happy holiday they say with a smile, even though they’re in denial,
All around man’s legitimate reason, why we even have this season,
When men and women all about earth, reflect on The Savior’s birth,
Through celebration and praise, as men lift up the Ancient of Days.
There are people on each side, who in Christ, do and do not abide,
Who do refuse to even celebrate, the season some may even hate,
Those, who truly love The Lord, say this season should be ignored,
While those with no religious belief, fill the season with undue grief.
Some peoples dispute the date, adding the calendar to the debate,
Using the harvest time as a reason, to discredit the holiday season;
There’re some who could care less, about a time many call blessed,
While they go on about their way; as for them, it is just another day.
No matter what the debate may be, another holiday all men will see,
Most men, again will participate, while others, continue their debate,
Friend, if you indeed participate, just how will your family celebrate?
Will your holiday be a secular kind, or a season with Christ in mind?
Whatever your view of this holiday, God’s Word has so little to say,
But, much to say about The Son, Who came that day, for everyone,
God’s Son, Who came with Salvation, for all men from every nation,
Is coming again, as King to receive, all those, who sincerely believe.
(Copyright ©07/2010)
A Season For Sowing
a season for sowing
good tidings
and good will
the fields are clean
the sky is bright
the air is filled
with mists
we bury what good we have
inside our hearts
we let the soil bid time
we make room for growth
we wait for many moons
we dream with the stars
we anticipate the next to come
that season for harvest.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Growing Season
The seasons work together
To make the world possible
Summer, the sun season
Fall, the leaf season
Winter, the snow season
And spring, the time of beauty
Summer, the yellow season
Fall, the orange season
Winter, the white season
And spring, the time of the rainbow
Summer, the blank season
Fall, the shadow season
Winter, the dying season
And spring, the growing season
The growing season
A Modern Day Miracle
Where could you find an example
of true faith in the twentieth century?
‘Faith Like Potatoes’ to plant
in El Nino, in drought, in dust
a never grown before potato crop?
Angus Buchan, a farmer, in Durban
South Africa declared before 35,000
“To hell with El Nino! We are going
to plant this year! And we are going
to plant potatoes.” Fool or Man of Faith?
The Wisdom Of The Modern World
Scientists warned farmers not to plant!
“Do not plant this season unless
you have irrigation.” Angus had none!
Planting planting potatoes in dust
would be a massive massive risk!
It would require a miracle!
Did Angus expect a miracle?
Or was he an experienced potato farmer?
Angus was a maize and cattle farmer!
He had never grown potatoes!
No farmer could grow potatoes in drought!
Not in drought without irrigation!
But all farmers and men of faith
know a crop, a harvest is grown,
from a seed, a seed of planted faith.
Angus prayed and prayed
during the planting and he knew;
in his heart that the Lord;
wanted him to plant potatoes.
Angus expected a modern day miracle from God!
God has complained men lack faith!
To dream their dreams large enough!
Angus planted potatoes in dust on his farm in drought!
Without irrigation without water on his farm in faith!
Angus hired two extra farms, planted potatoes in their dust!
If the potato crop failed, Angus would loose everything!
“Faith is the substance of things hoped for,
the evidence of things not yet seen.” Hebrews 11: 1.
Potatoes grow under the ground
and are not seen until the harvest!
Angus planted in faith; reaped a miracle of faith!
“because the righteous one will live by reason of faith.” Galatians 3: 11.
“The condition for a miracle is difficulty,
however the condition for a great miracle
is not difficulty, but impossibility.” Angus Buchan
“Seek and you shall find knock
and the door shall be opened to you.”
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Dis Duh Season
DIS DUH SEASON
Edward Iacona
Christmas season now starts before Halloween
And there is really no treat, just a trick of it.
The stores put out all those Christmas things
Thinking customers would like the first pick of it.
Shall we be thankful for that in November?
‘Cause by then we’re all in the thick of it.
The songs, the lights, the huge shopping crowds
And displays which have every Saint Nick of it.
No wonder by the time Christmas finally comes
Many people are just pretty much sick of it.
poem by Edward Iacona
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Fruits of Labor
The implementation and the planting of it,
Had been documented.
With an acknowledgement well known...
As to who had did this,
As a reaping of a harvest by all was sewn.
No one objected,
To the weeds seen and grown.
Since an anticipated fruits of labor...
Was expected to leave sweetened tastes,
To satisfy without a frown shown.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Stones
Stones
Stones would play inside her head
And where she slept,
They made her bed
And she would ache
For love and get but stones
La la la la la la la la la
Lordy, child
A good days comin
And Ill be there to let the sun in
And bein lost
Is worth the comin home
La la la la la la la la la on stones
You and me, a time for planting
You and me, a harvest granting
The every prayer ever prayed
For just two wild flowers that grow
La la la la la la la la la on stones
Mmmmmmmm.....
song performed by by Neil Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why There Are No Seeds Growing In The Garden Anymore?
because the trees
have grown so tall
and the fruits are many...
because the flowers
are blooming
and there are no more
spaces for the
seedlings....
because the beach
is so calm and the blueness
has become so inviting...
the seeds can wait
always
for the next planting season...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Christmas Is A Season...
christmas is a season of the heart,
a time to cherish family and friends;
a time to laugh and hug, or start,
to amplify the joy your prescense sends.
christmas is a season of the heart,
it knows the love that cannot die;
it knows the reasons that we part,
and gladdens, 'tho we know not why.
christmas is a season of the heart,
it shines it's light to all who see;
gifts are heaped upon it's cart,
and we are thrilled, to let it be.
christmas is season full of joy,
with acts of giving at every turn;
a child's eyes shine with it's new toy,
and lessons of love we slowly learn.
christmas is a season of happy sounds,
carols of praise float on the air;
the season of love that knows no bounds,
the season that shows we truly care.
poem by David Lessard
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Happiness is like a field you can harvest every season.