Letter To N.Y.
For Louise Crane
In your next letter I wish you'd say
where you are going and what you are doing;
how are the plays and after the plays
what other pleasures you're pursuing:
taking cabs in the middle of the night,
driving as if to save your soul
where the road gose round and round the park
and the meter glares like a moral owl,
and the trees look so queer and green
standing alone in big black caves
and suddenly you're in a different place
where everything seems to happen in waves,
and most of the jokes you just can't catch,
like dirty words rubbed off a slate,
and the songs are loud but somehow dim
and it gets so teribly late,
and coming out of the brownstone house
to the gray sidewalk, the watered street,
one side of the buildings rises with the sun
like a glistening field of wheat.
--Wheat, not oats, dear. I'm afraid
if it's wheat it's none of your sowing,
nevertheless I'd like to know
what you are doing and where you are going.
poem by Elizabeth Bishop
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Related quotes
Cabinessence
Light the lamp and fire mellow,
Cabin essence timely hello,
Welcomes the time for a change.
Lost and found, you still remain there.
Youll find a meadow filled with grain there.
Ill give you a home on the range.
Who ran the iron horse?
Who ran the iron horse?
Who ran the iron horse?
Who ran the iron horse?
Who ran the iron horse?
Who ran the iron horse?
Who ran the iron horse?
Who ran the iron horse?
Who ran the iron horse?
Who ran the iron horse?
I want to watch you windblown facing
Waves of wheat for your embracing.
Folks sing a song of the grange.
Nestle in a kiss below there.
The constellations ebb and flow there.
And witness our home on the range.
Who ran the iron horse?
(truck driving man do what you can)
Who ran the iron horse?
(high-tail your load off the road)
Who ran the iron horse?
(out of night-life-its a gas man)
Who ran the iron horse?
(I dont believe I gotta grieve)
Who ran the iron horse?
(in and out of luck)
Who ran the iron horse?
(with a buck and a booth)
Who ran the iron horse?
(catchin on to the truth)
Who ran the iron horse?
(in the vast past, the last gasp)
Who ran the iron horse?
(in the land, in the dust, trust that you must)
Who ran the iron horse?
(catch as catch can)
Have you seen the grand coolie workin on the railroad?
Have you seen the grand coolie workin on the railroad?
Have you seen the grand coolie workin on the railroad?
Over and over,
The crow cries uncover the cornfield.
Over and over,
The thresher and hover the wheat field.
Over and over,
The crow cries uncover the cornfield.
Over and over,
The thresher and hover the wheat field.
Over and over,
The crow cries uncover the cornfield.
Over and over,
The thresher and hover the wheat field.
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Parables of Jesus: The Kingdom of Heaven: The Wheat and the Darnel Gospel, Matthew 13: 24-30
Then Jesus told another parable:
‘Kingdom of Heaven- Wheat and the darnel'
Heaven can be compared to that of a man,
Who sowed only good seed in his whole field.
But just when everybody fell asleep,
His enemy had come and sown darnel,
Amongst the wheat and sped away quite fast.
And when the new wheat sprouted very well,
The darnel too appeared amidst the same;
His labourers all went to him and said,
‘Wasn't it good seed that you sowed in your field?
He told them, ‘Some enemy had done this! '
When they asked if they should pull the weeds out,
He told, ‘No, as the wheat would come with it! '
‘Let them both grow until the harvest-time;
And then I will instruct my reapers all,
‘Collect the darnel first; burn the bundles!
Gather the good wheat all into my barn! '
poem by John Celes
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Waiting On The Wheat Harvest
as you sow brothers sisters so you wheat harvest reap
as a grain of wheat dies germinates bears fruit to heap
Jesus will completely clean up threshing floor gather his wheat
chaff he will burn up with unquenchable fire hell suffering heat
an enemy came in over sowed weeds in among seed wheat
reapers harvest collect weeds burn them saving only wheat
Satan demands sifts men as wheat to blow away in sifting wind
Son of man will send angels to gather chosen ones from ill wind
a grain of wheat falls into the ground dies then bears fruit new life
so hate soul temptation in this world safeguard soul for eternal life
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Oh!
OH! let the lighting clouds come instantly
from the snowy summit of the Mount Stake
and let the scythe
come into the blonde hair of the wheat scything
and i have put the sedge
on the rainless back of the field
from the cloud
we sowed the field together with my mother
my sister pruned the grass in needy
and suckled there her newly born baby
OH! the endlees winter of 72
OH! come and warm everwhere and us a little bit
let my melancholic love spring up from my bed
I have three ears of wheat
at the large thrashing field of my village
let the rain and the days sunny
spread everywhere their beauty
I do not want too much
let unbind the infertility of the sky
guard and save our winter provisions
for this
I have descended from the mountain
to the blonde hair of the wheat for cropping
poem by Metin Sahin
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Golden Wheat
Remember me when the South wind blow
Golden wheat, where the waves dance in row
Forget the emptiness and cold
Embrace love and the memories you hold
Remember me solemnly gazing for doe
Golden wheat, where waves dance in row
Entwined together on the greens we rolled
Embrace love and the memories you hold
Will you stay with me, as old we grow
Golden wheat, where the wave dance in row
Together we'll erase the world's toll
Embrace love and the memories you hold
South wind lover always know
Golden wheat, where waves dance in row
Bodies come together as if made in a mold
Embrace love and the memories you hold
My pledge to you from Heaven and below
Golden wheat, where waves dance in row
With my last breath our love will still unfold
Embrace love and the memories you hold
When we're gone I hope our descendants know
Golden Wheat, where waves dance in row
Feel the south wind, be it warm or cold
Embrace love and the memories you hold
poem by Rhonda Baker
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Cunningham's Gap
As I came over Cunningham's Gap
a skin of time peeled off the map
The fern's green ocean overflowed
the hard black surface of the road
and lapped the wheel rims of the dray
and the sweating bullocks where they lay,
and washed the car out of today.
A cloud of cockatoos, snow on the hill
shrieked out of distance and were still.
Cedar, sassafras, bunya pine,
stinging nettle and lawyer-vine
baffled my passage and blocked my sight
as I swarmed the hummocks and climbed the height.
But long months' labour through wood and waste
dropped from my bones as I gazed at last.
round to round, to the rim of the sun,
on a world of richness not yet won;
broad fat pastures and rolling downs,
Wheat fields and Orchards, farms and towns,
ghosts of the future surged at the gate
of time and being and would not wait.
As I shouted in triumph, the Darling Downs
leapt into life with farms and towns;
Wheat field and orchards, flocks and herds,
grass to the bellies, woke at my words.
the cloud of cockatoos, snow on the hill,
shrieked out of distance and were still,
and the skin of time crept over the map
as I started my car in Cunningham's Gap.
poem by Henry Mackenzie Green
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Haymaking
The living quality of
the man's mind
stands out
and its covert assertions
for art, art, art!
painting
that the Renaissance
tried to absorb
but
it remained a wheat field
over which the
wind played
men with scythes tumbling
the wheat in
rows
the gleaners already busy
it was his own---
magpies
the patient horses no one
could take that
from him
poem by William Carlos Williams
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wheat sowing—
the mulberry trees
lift bunched branches
haiku by Masaoki Shiki
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Not all the spikes of wheat go on the wheat pile.
Famine
Jackal..howled with a long breath into the air
and wove into the night its voice like a tolling knell
wavering from the mountains onto the plains
it is a few days away entering june
fading yellow rubbed its back against the ears of the wheats
dropping them from their long..lean stems
the water once flowing in abundance with high noise
which ground the wheat into flour went somewhere and
diminished from the water ways
the milk of the mountain fig lost
the dog grass did not grow hid themselves in their roots
the white meat of the shah cock weighing many kilos
exhausted and melted itself own
till down
for the first time
a faded ear of wheat in the middle of the plain
saw far awaythe rainless approaching white cloud
at the pinkish dawn
and wholly dried up in vain
jackal...held its breath and walked away to hell
and wove into the night its voice like a tolling knell
wavering from the mountains into the plains
and the smell of the burnt wheat in the hairy biack rag-sack
spread everywhere
Nedrat GURCAN translation metin sahin
poem by Metin Sahin
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The Fork To Take
I had pegged you as
protégé, adoptee,
someone I could save.
The last thing
I needed
was
another lover.
You call yourself
'an accident
looking
for a place
to happen.'
I call you
my sweet, my love,
not only
because you carry knives
for me
& want to beat up
all my
ex-husbands-
but because
you can laugh
at yourself
for wanting to.
We dream
of the baby
we will never have.
The little Jewish WASP
with golden blue eyes,
poems on the tip of his tongue.
your height, my hair,
& jokes that hit
their targets
on a slant.
He will never be
in the Social Register.
But will he know
which fork to take-
as you did
when you drove
off my road,
slyly taking the wrong fork
in order to stay
the night?
O you are sly,
my sweet wheat
looking for
a harvest.
Shall I reap you?
Shall I do to you
what the hurricane
does with the waving
grain?
Shall I thresh & bind you,
run barefoot
through your body
trying to stamp out
death?
Or shall I merely
let you
lift me up
like the wind spinning
an errant seed,
& let it
take me
where it will,
right fork,
wrong fork,
no fork
at all,
since we will take
the same path
through
the air
after all?
poem by Erica Jong
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So I Happen to Prefer Whole Wheat
Of course I'm sleazy!
Isn't that one of the requirements,
I had to admit to get you to date me?
'But I didn't think you were serious when I asked! '
So when did you take notice of it?
Before or after I began to lick,
The crunchy peanut butter off your nipples.
'Yeah...
But do you think holding them,
Between slices of whole wheat bread...
Really accomplishes anything? '
That's a matter of opinion!
So I happen to prefer whole wheat bread.
What's the problem here?
I was going to use the muffins.
Do you want me to use the muffins?
'I'm sensitive to multi-grain.'
Huh?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Youth Revisited
Can this be the old town of wheat-teams and saddle-hacks,
Of Ted Toll's smithy, with the anvil ringing clear,
Of stacks in the station yard, and stockmen, and farming hands,
Of bow-legged bound'ry riders coming in for beer
This strange, new, brisk town of sweet-shops and petrol pumps
Petrol pumps with motor cars dashing up and down?
Yet there stands the old church, the bluestone baker's shop,
And the queer, shrunken houses of my old home town.
What has become of him - Little Johnny Parkinson?
Little Johnny Parkinson out upon a bust
The long red beard of him, the red-rimmed eyes of him;
Red from the harvest field and winnower dust.
Five foot two of him - Little Johnny Parkinson,
Driving in his wheat team, down the dusty street;
Red beard, red eyes, red bandana neckerchief
Little Johnny Parkinson, who took his whiskey neat.
What has become of him - Big Jack Herringford?
Big Jack Herringford, champion of the stacks,
Where the lumpers, laboring, climbed the crazy wooden ways
One, two, three hundred pounds upon their backs.
Big Jack Herringford, soft-hearted Hercules,
Went to the West land and won a fortune there.
Was the gold a bension to Big Jack Herringford?
Does anybody know, or does anybody care?
What has become of him - Black Tom Boliver?
Black Tom, Dude Tom, of the shearing shed
The bold, black eyes of him, the well-oiled curls of him,
The cabbage-tree hat well back upon his head.
What has become of them, all the men I used to know?
Only one I recognise of all men there;
But one has a smile for me - schoolmate Jimmy Tomlinson
Laughing Jimmy Tomlinson, with snow-white hair.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Dont
Walking round this metropolis
With its buildings that reach to the clouds
There must be millions of people out there
Walking round with their heads bowed
This city kills me, but it thrills me
Now somethings gone and held up the crowd
Theyre pointing at a man standing high on a ledge
And somebody just cried out loud
Dont look down at the people below, oh
Dont look down
Its a long way to fall and Id sure like to know
What made it happen, sure makes you think
Must have been something special
To send him to the brink
Down here on the sidewalk, hes clearly in view
Then a voice shouts up to him
Try thinking it through but whatever you do
Chorus:
Dont look down
At the people below, oh
Dont look down, things might start looking up
You just never know
Hes heard the cries of the lunatics facing defeat
The cheers of the winners
Who are dancing in the street
Perhaps the crime and corruption finally got through
And the violence of the city
Just broke him in two
Now a voice from the queue shouts
Chorus
Dont look down, dont look down
Down here on the sidewalk
Its stopped all our lives
People are talking instead of just walking by
Before this happened it was just another day
Now people are talking instead of walking away
Now were gripped by this tragedy
Our blood starts to pump as we all shout together
Dont jump, dont jump
Chorus
Dont look down, we all shouted out, oh
Dont look down
Its a long way to fall and Id sure like to know
What made it happen, guess well never know
Now the suns come out
Looks like hes standing on a rainbow
Hes in the heavens, Im standing on the ground
Saying dont look down
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If only I pass into nothingness
Should turn up in my memory wheat grain crops,
blonde waves inspire me everlasting wavings,
the bird`s song : the field – a big dissoluteness,
the days` south secretly between us does sift it(...)
Should I look into the thought`s depth : a river
which lightens Undeath – spend my years,
and I have your face like the seaside of the wheat ears:
an icon, that it steals my everything – time!
If only I pass into nothingness,
I will remember you for ever
rich soil for love –
my seaside-longing!,
blonde dreamings will sift you –
young(...)
when,
I –
forgetten
seagulls
should I be food and f l y.
poem by Dumitru Găleșanu from Emotions into Multiverse (25 July 2010), translated by Adrian Constantinescu
Submitted by anonym
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Beginning
The moon drops one or two feathers into the fiels.
The dark wheat listens.
Be still.
Now.
There they are, the moon's young, trying
Their wings.
Between trees, a slender woman lifts up the lovely shadow
Of her face, and now she steps into the air, now she is gone
Wholly, into the air.
I stand alone by an elder tree, I do not dare breathe
Or move.
I listen.
The wheat leans back toward its own darkness,
And I lean toward mine.
poem by James Arlington Wright
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Hurricane Watch
Green. Green the leaves,
and waves gray on the forehead of the beach.
As easy as breeze tensing lengths of hair
waves lift, then snap back like springs.
Trees bend and kneel, fling out brown arms
to catch their running children.
Green. Green the leaves, and wind
pours on the forehead of the beach.
See how sand wrinkles in the lee,
and anchors part like lovers
from invisible chains. Ships break
then run their length to freedom.
Green. Green the weeds,
and sea foams on the forehead of the beach.
Women’s names swim to greet the waves.
And sea sings, “Eve. Eve. Eve.” Mermaid
who set her cap for them, she beckons each
figurehead to her pale and smiling reach.
Green. Green the waves,
and spray glistening on the forehead of the beach.
Her arms catch and embrace hulls like shoulders.
Bold as dolphins they leap to her lips before she
slaps away the face of any sailor so foolish.
Gray. Gray the waves, and flotsam
in pieces grinding on the wet stones of the beach.
poem by Val Morehouse
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"Ole" Baugh Road
Round Ole Baugh Road its a great place kids to grow
Some grow up and move away
Most of us decide to stay
Round the oleBaugh Road
Hard working mom and dad
Gve us things that they never had
I our corner of the world
Romance is slow for the boys and girls
Round the ole Baugh Road
The neighborhood still looks the same
just new kids with the same old names
My Baugh Roads in a southern state
Yours may be anywhere, USA
Look around ole Baugh Road.
I see the kids on Ole Baugh Road
I see the glory of the future glow
Look to the Heavens and give a shout
Like my daddy did when he started out.
Round, round, round the ole Baugh Road,
Round, round, round,
Round, round, round
Round, round, round,
The OleBaugh Road
Round, round, round,
Round, round, round...
song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Without sowing a single wheat you would not harvest thousand ones.
Lines Read at a Dairymen's Supper
It almost now seems all in vain
For to expect high price for grain,
Wheat is grown on Egyptian soil
On the banks of mighty Nile.
And where the Ganges it doth flow,
In India fine wheat doth grow,
And the price of labor is so cheap
That it they can successful reap.
Then let the farmers justly prize
The cows for land they fertilize,
And let us all with songs and glees
Invoke success into the cheese.
poem by James McIntyre
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