En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Food for thought

The fields are bare, the harvest safe in store
Now is the time for man and beast to rest
King winter will enforce his frigid rule.
The fields are white, the harvest safe in store
In time the sun will shine and spring return
The earth will show renewed vitality
When sunshine puts an end to winters reign,
the frost retreats to let the spring return.
The farmers and the peasants know the score.
The city folk are merely parasites
who do not know nor want to know the score.
They are convinced they do not need to learn.
Confident that gold can buy anything,
this is not true. When famine strikes they’ll learn.

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

In Winter's Arms

Winter holds me with his arms of icy white,
and kissed my breath with frost upon the pane.
Subdued by touch of winter's frigid hand,
I pray for spring to find me once again.

O'wind, you whistle to the winter's tune.
Your melody is heard 'pon day and night,
but one day spring will come to rescue me,
and wisk away your song of winter's blight.

O'tree, you're frozen in the winter's dream.
Your leaves have left you 'neath a moon of white,
but when my prayers are answered 'pon spring's dawn,
you'll thaw beneath its sun with warm delight.

O'field, your harvest has been reaped and spent ~
and winter blankets you 'neath snowy mounds.
Yet one day soon in springtime's rising mist
you'll feel the greening of your earth rebound.

Winter holds me with his arms of icy white,
and kissed my breath with frost upon the pane ~
but deep within I somehow always know,
that spring will come and find me once again.

poem by Hazelmarie Elliott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Farmers Complaint

The frosted fields are lying fallow.
The frozen ground will not allow
free passage to the farmers plough

Though things will change they always do
Then is the time he must review
the wisest course he can pursue.

He needs to plough then he must sow
the kind of crops he wants to grow
he can’t afford to be too slow.

When spring sunshine ignites the fuse.
A farmer has no time to lose.
Excuses are of little use.

Spring is the time of life’s rebirth.
He must prepare the fertile earth
and labour hard to prove his worth
.

The seasons cycle in their turn
as every farmer has to learn
If you don’t work you cannot earn.

A farmer only prospers when
he works harder than other men
or so they say time and again.

I do not know it may be true
That farmers have too much to do.
I don’t believe it though. Do you?

11-Jan-09

http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Where Have All The Robins Gone?

Where have all the robins gone?
They've left and gone to soon
Their empty hollow loving nests
are stilled against the moon

A Spring that was, has come and gone
The worms have dug down deep
Summer's warmth has left the earth
Fall's harvest here to reap

I beg the Winter stay away
To cruel and cold for me
But nature has it's purpose
Rest now......then you will see

Spring returns the Robin's breast
Lost in fields of flowers
Growth anew abounds on earth
The wealth of fresh Spring showers

© 2008 (All rights reserved)

poem by JoJo Bean
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Spring Rains (a Villanelle)

There shall come Spring rains
When all seems lost to the cold decay
And Winter shall release its icy reign

When hopes anew are all but slain
By the bitter hold of frigid days
There shall come Spring rains

Vernal longings shall make their way
As colors emerge from shades of gray
And Winter shall release its icy reign

Nature's display may seem bleak and inane
As Winter's chill yet still remains
There shall come Spring rains

Joy will abound where sorrow had lain
As Spring once more holds sway
And Winter shall release its icy reign

Cold may rear its head time and again
Bear faith and do not dismay
There shall come Spring rains
And Winter shall release its icy reign

poem by Sheri Hockman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Spring And Winter

Spring is near
It is visible in the rear-
View mirror, winter is going to a far away place
From where it'll move at a very slow pace
It will encircle the Earth
And curb every birth
Spring will follow,
Fill life in the things gone hollow
Spring will make all the flowers shine
While winters make every one whine
Spring gives a pleasant touch to everything
Winter gives dullness to even bling
Spring will come and make us dance
While in winter, we don't like such a chance
Winter makes us crave for quilt and the sun
In spring, even failure seems something we won
In winter we search for everything hot
In spring, greenery spreads a lot
And makes us miss it when it is gone
Like we miss night every winter dawn
I hope spring comes soon
And be what it is supposed to be - a boon
I miss spring every single night
Come spring soon, the time has come, the time is right!

poem by Aishwarya Misra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Meditations after Li Po for M lady Helen

I
I follow in the footsteps
of old poets of the past.
As geese fly south in autumn.
Instinct is my only guide.
My attempts to emulate,
may not bear such worthy fruit.
I can only do my best

II
The trees discard all their leaves
and face winter nakedly.
I ask myself why this should be
but I receive no reply.
Winter winds pass freely through
the leafless twigs and branches.
Dead leaves return to the earth.

III
The trees stand as sentinels
coated with white bitter frost
Bowing in submission
to the power of the wind.
Better to bend than to break,
the trees know instinctively
the wind dies as spring returns.

IV

Only when the time is right
the geese will return once more.
The trees will put forth new leaves,
flowers spring up underfoot
The spring sunshine will inspire
Poets to take up their brush
and ink: To write poetry.

21-Oct-07

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

With the advent of spring and beginning of the new harvest season the creators of abundance, our peasants, come out to the fields to sow with good aspirations and hopes.

quote by Islom Karimov
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

As God Gave Freely

As God gave freely unto me
gifts of compassion love patience time
so I also give freely unto you

in the fertile landscapes of harvest mind
have I not prepared fields broken ground
have I not sown in full measure love seed

will you now take ownership of these fields?
will you water fertilize tender growth shoots?
will you weed harvest all life love gift fields?

for 18 months more have I alone toiled prepared?
are not these fields without cost to you purchased?
did I not give sacred work all my time livelihood?

will you choose to help harvest these compassion seeds?
will you let peace love flower with purity in your minds?
will you turn swords into plough shears till peace fields?

poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Winter's Spring

The winter comes; I walk alone,
I want no bird to sing;
To those who keep their hearts their own
The winter is the spring.
No flowers to please--no bees to hum--
The coming spring's already come.

I never want the Christmas rose
To come before its time;
The seasons, each as God bestows,
Are simple and sublime.
I love to see the snowstorm hing;
'Tis but the winter garb of spring.

I never want the grass to bloom:
The snowstorm's best in white.
I love to see the tempest come
And love its piercing light.
The dazzled eyes that love to cling
O'er snow-white meadows sees the spring.

I love the snow, the crumpling snow
That hangs on everything,
It covers everything below
Like white dove's brooding wing,
A landscape to the aching sight,
A vast expanse of dazzling light.

It is the foliage of the woods
That winters bring--the dress,
White Easter of the year in bud,
That makes the winter Spring.
The frost and snow his posies bring,
Nature's white spurts of the spring.

poem by John Clare
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Hope

O thrush, is it true?
Your song tells
Of a world born anew,
Of fields gold with buttercups, woodlands all blue
With hyacinth bells;
Of primroses deep
In the moss of the lane,
Of a Princess asleep
And dear magic to do.
Will the sun wake the princess? O thrush, is it true?
Will Spring come again?

Will Spring come again?
Now at last
With soft shine and rain
Will the violet be sweet where the dead leaves have lain?
Will Winter be past?
In the brown of the copse
Will white wind-flowers star through
Where the last oak-leaf drops?
Will the daisies come too,
And the may and the lilac? Will Spring come again?
O thrush, is it true?

poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

In Waiting for M' lady Fay

There is no bright sunshine today
it’s overcast the skies are grey.
A chill wind blows.

The harvest safely gathered in
and stored away in box and bin.
For no one knows.

How long it is until spring
returns to renew everything
Which lives and grows.

We will survive I am quite sure
but until then we must endure
The winter snows.

Now Mother Nature does her best,
tries to ensure her children rest.
Because she knows

With springs return life starts anew.
Each living thing knows what to do
to thrive and grow...

The seasons come, the seasons go.
Since time began it has been so
that’s all we know.

11-Nov-08

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Spring Is Gone

As the coldness creeps closer
The bitterness begins to grow
The sun left us alone
Now that spring is gone

The air grows heavy
The frost eats up my skin
Flowers died on this ongoing trend
Winter has finally come

The Moon gain power over the day
He puts the sun to shame
The trees will lose their souls
Winter has a heavy toll

I am reaching for the sky
For the stars that will always shine
And wish on a shooting star that spring
Will awaken and come back to save me

Death rules this time of year
And drifts away
Living souls shall shed a tear
Winter is filled with sorrow

The sun will never shine
Upon whom winter wrath, will be taken
Everyone will be forsaken
On this oak pine

Spring left our world
Leaving us for freedom
We didn't treat spring right
We don't have the right to keep her
Winter has given us the punishment
And we shall take it

poem by Elisha De La Rosa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Thoughts In A Wheat-Field

IN his wide fields walks the Master,
In his fair fields, ripe for harvest,
Where the evening sun shines slant-wise
On the rich ears heavy bending;
Saith the Master: 'It is time.'
Though no leaf shows brown decadence,
And September's nightly frost-bite
Only reddens the horizon,
'It is full time,' saith the Master,
The wise Master, 'It is time.'

Lo, he looks. That look compelling
Brings his laborers to the harvest;
Quick they gather, as in autumn
Passage-birds in cloudy eddies
Drop upon the seaside fields;
White wings have they, and white raiment,
White feet shod with swift obedience,
Each lays down his golden palm branch,
And uprears his sickle shining,
'Speak, O Master,--is it time?'

O'er the field the servants hasten,
Where the full-stored ears droop downwards,
Humble with their weight of harvest:
Where the empty ears wave upward,
And the gay tares flaunt in rows:
But the sickles, the sharp sickles,
Flash new dawn at their appearing,
Songs are heard in earth and heaven,
For the reapers are the angels,
And it is the harvest time.

O Great Master, are thy footsteps
Even now upon the mountains?
Are thou walking in thy wheat-field?
Are the snowy-wingèd reapers
Gathering in the silent air?
Are thy signs abroad, the glowing
Of the distant sky, blood-reddened,--
And the near fields trodden, blighted,
Choked by gaudy tares triumphant,--
Sure, it must be harvest time?

Who shall know the Master's coming?
Whether it be at dawn or sunset,
When night dews weigh down the wheat-ears,
Or while noon rides high in heaven,
Sleeping lies the yellow field?
Only, may thy voice, Good Master,
Peal above the reapers' chorus,
And dull sound of sheaves slow falling,--
'Gather all into My garner,
For it is My harvest time.'

poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Life Is Lovely All the Year

When the buds are blossoming,
Smiling welcome to the spring,
Lovers choose a wedding day -
Life is love in merry May!

Spring is green - Fal lal la!
Summer's rose - Fal lal la!
It is sad when Summer goes,
Fal la!
Autumn's gold - Fal lal la!
Winter's grey - Fal lal la!
Winter still is far away -
Fal la!
Leaves in Autumn fade and fall;
Winter is the end of all.
Spring and summer teem with glee:
Spring and summer, then, for me!
Fal la!

In the Spring-time seed is sown:
In the Summer grass is mown:
In the Autumn you may reap:
Winter is the time for sleep.

Spring is hope - Fal lal la!
Summer's joy - Fal lal la!
Spring and Summer never cloy,
Fal la!
Autumn, toil - Fal lal la!
Winter, rest - Fal lal la!
Winter, after all, is best -
Fal la!
Spring and summer pleasure you,
Autumn, ay, and winter, too -
Every season has its cheer;
Life is lovely all the year!
Fal la!

poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Safe In New York City

(young - young)
Hello baby gimme your hand
Check out the high spots the lay of the land
You dont need a rocket or a big limousine
Come on over baby and Ill make you obscene
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
All over the city and down to the dives
Dont mess with this place itll eat you alive
Got lip smackin honey to soak up the jam
On top of the world ma ready to slam
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
Movin all over like a jumpin bean
Take a look at that thing in the tight ass jeans
Comin your way now you may be in luck
Dont you fret boy shes ready to buck
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
New york, new york, new york
I feel safe in a cage in new york city
2000, j. albert & son, pty.

song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

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
Vote! | Copy!

Just March(ing) Along..

When Winter begins
to lose His touch
and his buddy Jack Frost
don't hang 'roun as much..
The days will be one day
all sunny and warm
then by morning wake up
to a winter snow storm
March isn't winter
spring, summer or fall.
March seems to be marching
into changing it all.....
March is a beginning.
March is a end.
Winters defeater (the spring time leader)
March is marching spring in...

poem by Connetta Jean
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

New Seeds Will Be Sown

Bring in the harvest sheaves, and store
Them safely, on the barn's stone floor.
Let all who've worked to stack and bind,
On the farmhouse table, their cider, find.
They will heartily cheer the farmer's thanks,
Then get up to some quite jovial pranks,
While celebrating a long and hard day's reap,
Before falling soundly off to sleep.

The winter's grain is home and bound,
Taken with skill from the fertile ground.
And in time some new seeds will be sown,
As soon as the frost, snow and ice have flown.
The fields are left, just with rough stubble now,
Ready for furrows to be cut by the plough.
Next year these crops will grow once again,
Helped by the Lord, his sunbeams and rain.

poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Pessimism

I

WHILE baby Spring sticks daisies in her hair,
Or Summer laughs with flushed triumphant face
We crush our heart rebellious at earth's grace,
And smile 'How, like the season, life is fair!'
But when the last leaf falls in the dull air,
And skies grow pale, and fields lie lost a space,
Ere their first furrow ploughs begin to trace,
And pastures shiver desolate and bare--

Oh, then one breathes; at last free from the sway
Of selfish spring--from summer's insolent reign,
One dares to speak the truth--how all life's way
Is blank as autumn skies made grey with rain,
Most blank when most the glad year bade forbear
To mar her grace with our unveiled despair.

II

NOT Spring--too lavish of her bud and leaf--
But Autumn, with sad eyes and brow austere,
When fields are bare, and woods are brown and sere,
And leaden skies weep their exhaustless grief.
Spring is so much too bright, since Spring is brief.
And in our hearts is autumn all the year,
Least sad when the wide pastures are most drear,
And fields grieve most robbed of the last gold sheaf.

For when the plough goes down the brown wet field,
A delicate doubtful throb of hope is ours--
What if this coming Spring at last should yield
Joy, with her too profuse unasked-for flowers?
Not all our Springs of commonplace and pain
Have taught us now that autumn hope is vain.

poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!