Sing Joyously.
Awdl Gywydd.
Autumn the harvest season
It's the time for gathering
in the crops to safely store
All we need and more: So sing
Praises to the creator
The crops we store are his gift.
A reward for the hard work.
We did not shirk nor ignore.
Sunday,02 September 2012
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Related quotes
Encyclical
The spring will come and summer too
Just as they are intended to.
Then autumn will take summers place
This is a cycle not a race.
Then in due course winter will reign
When winter ends spring comes again.
The earth will waken from its rest
Each season does what it does best.
Spring is the time to plough and sow
The summer provides time to grow
when crops are slowly ripening
In autumn comes the harvesting.
When all the crops are gathered in
and safely stored in box and bin.
Nature decrees a time of rest
an age old plan that’s stood times test.
Each season has its part to play
It reigns a while then clears the way
For the next one to follow on
They’ve played their part time to be gone.
31-Jan-09
http: // blog.myspace.com.poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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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
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What's The World Got In Store
Close your eyes and go to sleep, baby
Take your head off your feet, honey
Cause you've been working hard and I know you're tired
You been tryin' hard not to think I'm a liar
What's the world got in store
What's the world got in store for you
What's the world got in store for you now
Come on baby somehow, I need you
Do I have to show you how, baby
I'm not trying to knock you out, or was it about
I just now you need your rest I can't say what's best for you
You been workin' hard and I know you're tired
I've been tryin' hard not to feel like a liar
What's the world got in store
What's the world got in store for you
What's the world got in store for you now
What's the world got in store
What's the world got in store for you
What's the world got in store for you now
song performed by by Wilco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm not a company man.
Ghazal format
Some men strive hard chasing success
Whilst other men are content with less.
It all depends I must suppose.
On whom they're trying to impress.
I value self sufficiency
And use my time efficiently.
I choose to please myself.
There is no reason I can see.
For me to use my energy
Concentrating constantly.
Pursuing riches I don't need.
It simply makes no sense to me.
I understand that some will choose
To store up wealth they cannot use,
But that does not apply to me.
Because I know I can refuse.
To work for sixteen hours a day
I live my life a different way.
The company does not own me.
Though I work hard to earn my pay.
I spend time with my family.
Which I regard importantly.
There is much more to life than work.
I can state quite confidently.
I am contented with my lot.
I need no more than what I've got.
That is what success means to me.
My family first no matter what.
Wednesday,26 September 2012
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Do You Really Know Christmas?
Many people say Merry Christmas, but, do they know who Christ is?
And that the babe of Bethlehem, now reigns above as Savior of men.
They sing the weary world rejoices, but, does this include all voices?
For the joy that this speaks of, is in regards to God’s Amazing Love.
Do all men really know The King, in the songs that they love to sing?
And if they never receive the Gift, in sinful darkness continue to drift.
Men sing of His birth in a stall, but do they know Christ came for all?
For The King over all of Eternity, was born as baby, for you and me.
Why are all at Christmas rushed, as our Savior’s Name is so hushed?
Going for gifts, from store to store, while The Lord we silently ignore.
While they trim the Christmas tree, do they think at all about Calvary?
For Christ didn’t come to live, but, He came with His very life to give.
Men sing of peace upon the earth, but, is it a peace of lasting worth?
God’s Peace, many don’t receive, for in His Son they do not believe.
And if Christmas Cheer fills the air, why do so many hearts despair?
For this Holiday time, you will find, stresses many, a heart and mind.
If Christmas is all about The Lord, why does Jesus go quite ignored?
Many dismiss God’s Holy Day, while in sin and error, they pine away.
Could it be that this Holy Season, for many has no rhyme or reason?
While in their heart and their life, they truly do not know Jesus Christ.
(Copyright ©12/2007)
Nature's Bounty
Her,
Store
In abundance
Overflows.
The doors
Of which
His eyes
Ignore.
The latch, the lock
And the bolt
Fastened
Fastened where the looted abundance
Rots in the store.
For, it rots
As environs
Foreign
Cannot restore.
She,
He knows
Has powers
To replenish Her store
Still
His desire
To honour Her no more.
Knows cannot restore
Adores his rotten store.
poem by Sanjay Mehta
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The Rain
Of the rain the Word has said
To us he giveth in due season
And in the Word i also read
Of his might and of his reason
The rain to water the earth
Our crops he will sustain
Trees planted not in dearth
Rooted firm they will remain
A rich gift from heaven sent
Not because of worthiness
But by divine design meant
To show a creator greatness
And therefore this an ode to thee
Of God's oh blessed rain
A token penned from me
Forever i am your humble swain
2007
poem by by unknown author
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(Not Beyond) Alone
Decide to be free of these previous eons,
Never really so sure why you now always just ignore,
Just trying to stop myself from feeling all the clashes,
Not really sure why I'm left feeling anything but bold,
Jest as you like to leave me without any gold,
A time when I shall always ignore,
For this old load isn't any lighter,
Like losing what's in store,
Let me recover but just not beyond alone,
Losing this grip on feeling so smart,
If only I could uniquely ask a love to explore
Just not beyond alone.
As for now I'll be remembering back then
For I know I'm so unsure what you say is my role,
As you confuse and leave me without a single clue,
And gotta now learn how I can finally become so strong,
Gotta ignore the fact that your heart is ever so cold,
A time when I shall always ignore,
For this old load isn't any lighter,
Like losing what's in store,
Let me recover but just not beyond alone,
Losing this grip on feeling so smart,
If only I could uniquely ask a love to explore
Just not beyond alone.
For there's something that I cannot yet, yet say
For there's something that I cannot yet say,
But even now I'm not beyond alone,
A time when I shall always ignore,
For this old load isn't any lighter,
Like losing what's in store,
Let me recover but just not beyond alone,
Losing this grip on feeling so smart,
If only I could uniquely ask a love to explore
Just not beyond alone.
Not beyond alone,
Not beyond alone,
A time when I shall always ignore,
For this old load isn't any lighter,
Like losing what's in store,
Let me recover but just not beyond alone,
Losing this grip on feeling so smart,
If only I could uniquely ask a love to explore
Just not beyond alone.
Just not beyond alone.
poem by Rich Downes
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Respect The Earth!
why do we always mistreat
the people who do our farm work?
why would we starve the people
who pick our crops?
why would we deport the only people
who are willing to do the work?
and you wonder why your kids
think that all food comes
from an aisle in the grocery store!
gas prices keep rising,
food prices keep rising...
what happens when the trucking
industry goes down?
what are you going to eat then?
we need to as much as possible
go back to raising our food.
at the very least support
your local farmers...
no GM seeds!
do it the old way, the right way.
pay your farm workers,
pay them well!
get out and do the work yourself!
stop the dependency on a failing system!
let the people who want to work, work!
respect the earth, and it will respect us!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Washington state's 2nd Congressional District is a major producer of small fruit crops such as raspberries and strawberries. This research center is doing important work to help farmers enhance the quality, yield and marketability of their small fruit crops.
quote by Rick Larsen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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And He Decided To Join Us
Sometimes things happen
and they surprise everyone.
As I held my Sunday service
in the main street of our western town,
we had a quite a few visitors
who had come along.
Some of them had dogs
and one had a beautiful Husky.
As we began to sing our first hymn,
All Things Bright and Beautiful
the Husky decided to join us in the choruses.
It was the first time I’ve had
one of the creatures great and small
join us in our service.
He sang or howled his heart out
along with us all.
He didn’t sing in the verses
they were left to us,
only the choruses were his treat.
He thoroughly enjoyed himself
and his presence was an uplifting treat.
He became an instant celebrity
and when the service was over,
he was dry from all the singing he had done.
His reward for his efforts was
a large bowl of refreshing cool water.
28 September 2009
Author’s note:
This story is true and happened on Sunday 27 September 2009 at my end of season service. The Husky stole the service, he seemed to like the choruses as it was not the only hymn he joined in.
poem by David Harris
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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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Welcome Sound.
I don't complain about the rain.
That hammers on my window pane
I'm glad to hear it once again.
It marks the end of prolonged drought.
We need the rain there is no doubt
For far too long we've gone without
Without the rain the soil's too dry.
It matters not how hard we try.
Our crops just shrivel up and die.
The blessed rain has fallen finally
Arriving unexpectedly
The earth absorbs it greedily.
Tomorrow we will start to sow.
New crops we are quite sure will grow
Then in due course green shoots will show.
It seems the experts can't explain
The reason for the lack of rain
But now we hope we can regain
The rich dark soils fertility
Although there is no guarantee.
We have to think positively
A farmer needs both rain and sun
But not too much of either oneNeither can be relieduponMonday,16 April 2012
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The rich plunder
The poor are the plants thriving on rain.
The rich are the crops under irrigations.
The irrigated crops erode the earth.
The enriched people plunder the world.
11.08.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Giving
By generously giving
Than selfishly saving
We become channels of blessings
To souls, seriously, sobbing
Craving for care and curing
Be a blessing
Give generously
Giving bestows bountiful bonuses
Boons from the Great God
For giving Saintly, suggests sacrifice
Presenting, represent planting
And as advanced by the law of harvest
Offering, as a seed
Basically bear a humbling harvest
Several sizes of sown seed
Thus the giver by not keeping
Benefits at an abnormal rate
From the only inexhaustible store
That store well-lit by the stars
The store waiting on cheerful givers
Be a Blessing
Give generously.
And be Blessed.
poem by Emmanuel Oduro
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Sonnet: Time is Short
I must cross o'er the bridge 'fore it breaks down;
I must climb Life's ladder 'fore rungs give way;
I must pluck weeds 'fore the grass can be mown;
I must keep earnestly the Sabbath-Day.
I must swim ashore before the flood comes;
I must build house on ground that is hard rock;
When water falls on sugar, it forms lumps;
How long can ships be stationed in their dock?
I must store food for winter is not far;
I must work hard for harvest to be good;
I must prepare with devils for a war;
To forget my Savior, my heart, how could?
The Heaven’s gates will not be open long!
'Tis time I start to sing my divine song.
poem by John Celes
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Sonnet-Time Is Short
I must cross o'er the bridge 'fore it breaks down;
I must climb Life's ladder 'fore rungs give way;
I must pluck weeds 'fore the grass can be mown;
I must keep earnestly the Sabbath-Day.
I must swim ashore before the flood comes;
I must build house on ground that is hard rock;
When water falls on sugar, it forms lumps;
How long can ships be stationed in their dock?
I must store food for Winter is not far;
I must work hard for harvest to be good;
I must prepare with devils for a war;
To forget my Saviour, my heart, how could?
The Heaven’s gates will not be open long!
'Tis time I start to sing my divine song.
poem by John Celes
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Floodgates are open,
Green crops ready for harvest drowned,
Sun, saviour comes out.
haiku by Mamta Agarwal
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Oh, Rain
oh, rain
gently when you fall
my crops are now ready for harvest
I beg you
don't turn my sweat
into nothing.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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Where Are The Temperance People? In Reply To A Query
Where are the temperance people?
Well, scattered here and there:
Some gathering in their produce
To show at the autumn fair;
Some threshing wheat for market,
And others threshing rye,
That will go to the fat distiller
For whiskey by-and-by.
And some are selling their hop crops
At a first-rate price, this year,
And the seller pockets the money,
While the drunkard swallows the beer.
And some 'staunch temperance workers'(?)
Who'd do anything for the cause,
Save to give it a dime or a moment,
Or work for temperance laws,
May be seen from now to election,
Near any tavern stand
Where liquor flows in plenty,
With a voter on either hand.
And these temperance office-seekers
That we hear of far and near
Are the ones who furnish the money
That buys the lager-beer.
But these are only the black sheep
Who want the temperance name
Without living up to the precepts,
And so bring themselves to shame.
And the true, brave temperance people,
Who have the cause at heart,
Are doing the work that's nearest,
Each his allotted part:
Some lifting the fallen drunkard,
Some preaching unto men,
Some aiding the cause with money,
And others with the pen.
Each has a different mission,
Each works in a different way,
But their works shall melt together
In one grand result, some day.
And one, our chief (God bless him),
Is working day and night:
With his sword of burning eloquence,
He is fighting the noble fight.
Whether in lodge or convention,
Whether at home or abroad,
He is reaping a golden harvest
To lay at the feet of God.
Where are the temperance people?
All scattered here and there,
Sowing the seeds of righteous deeds,
That the harvest may be fair.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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