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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Related quotes
The One Thing About Knowing
The one thing about knowing,
Is its ability not to be undone.
Once something is known,
An acknowledgement of it...
To others become easily shown.
And that knowledge shown,
May come to show others despising it.
Depending on who sees what one has,
As a lasting benefit.
Since those who are not afraid of knowledge,
Feel freer to leave behind their ignorance.
The one thing about knowing,
Whether or not it is documented...
Is its ability not to be undone.
Once something is known,
An acknowledgement of it...
To others become easily shown.
And few are found to run away,
From its presence or existence.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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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 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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Harvesting of Weeds
Why wait and sit,
With anticpation?
Has it been deposited,
Within anyone...
Familiar with it?
An absence of respect,
Has long been accepted.
And when neglect of it is shown...
Pleading moans,
Go unheeded.
A fertilized seeding unknown,
Left to grow alone...
In minds unaware of its existence,
Are distant.
Why wait for a flourishing to occur?
When none of it was sewn.
An organic matter has been scattered.
And a firm planting of this,
Was never homegrown!
A protection of these flowers were left...
To set aside wrapped and unpackaged,
For a harvesting of weeds.
A priority of the majority has succeeded.
Feeding to produce seducing delusions!
To heighten imaginations that cropped.
And gathered, stocked and baled like hay.
For horseplay!
Or other enhanced enchantments.
And quick to burn nonstop.
Allowing a smoking to choke,
Hallucinating induced dreams wished.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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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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Happy Pongal and Tamil New Year,2010
To staff, CRRIs and students
May festival of harvest bring
Wealth, prosperity as we sing,
And cleanliness of surroundings,
For Indians and other earthlings!
May festival of harvest bring
More piety, less worldliness,
Regard for animals in farm,
And all who give us happiness.
May festival of harvest bring
More joy to homes, our kith and kin,
As colorful ‘kolams’ adorn
The houses, showing Indianness!
May festival of harvest ring
The bells of labor and of toil,
As sweetened rice begins to boil,
O’erflowing in clay-pots to soil!
Wishing all Indians globally
‘A Happy Pongal,2010! ’
And Tamilians globally,
‘A Happy Tamil New Year,2010! ’
Copyright by Dr John Celes 14-1-2010
From, Dean, IRT PMC, Perundurai
poem by John Celes
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How Do You Maintain Such a Meticulous Appearance?
Yes sir...
I will keep this brief.
In your most recent press conference,
Prior to this one.
You had stated a correction made,
To the previous BS you fed us.
Are we now to understand,
That the current BS reflects...
A more concised effort,
For immediate implementation?
Or are we to wait for an appropriate effectiveness,
To be delivered.
And will that expected corrected BS,
Satisfy as promised and expected?
'Good question!
Let me be perfectly clear about this!
Any BS delivered by this administration,
Will be the best BS we can orchestrate.
And...
Don't confuse this with just ordinary BS.
Consider this BS we are working on...
To benefit like no BS has in the past!
I'll take just one more question.
That gentleman sitting next to that light skinned woman,
Of mixed heritage in the third row up in the balcony!
Your question? '
Yes sir...
Thank you for this opportunity.
And I am sure I speak for the majority.
Your pecs?
How many times a week do you work on them?
And...
Because our national security is priority,
How do you maintain such a meticulous appearance?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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On Fields O'er Which the Reaper's Hand Has Pass'd
On fields o'er which the reaper's hand has pass'd
Lit by the harvest moon and autumn sun,
My thoughts like stubble floating in the wind
And of such fineness as October airs,
There after harvest could I glean my life
A richer harvest reaping without toil,
And weaving gorgeous fancies at my will
In subtler webs than finest summer haze.
poem by Henry David Thoreau
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The Gleaners.
They sang, that were the young world's gleaners,
Like birds on a bough,
Reaping the first-fruits of love's sowing;
The reapers now
Are sad, as they to harvest going
Voice love's vow.
So much of thought has made us weary,
We cannot sing
Now only of the heart's sweet meaning
In everything,
As they who in the young world gleaning
Went caroling.
poem by Robert Crawford
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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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Sonnet: Patience Rewards
Have patience, Man, Woman-success is nigh;
'Tis time, defeat is vanquished, forever;
No more can failures make us slowly die;
The God of love, forsakes us not, Never.
Our labor's fruits have grown big and are ripe;
'Tis time to harvest and enjoy them now;
Our forehead's sweat, no more, we need to wipe;
Let’s genuflect, thank God while our heads bow.
Who says this world is full of only woes?
A lazy man can't reap success in life;
Postponement, hopelessness are our main foes;
Our earthly-life has challenges and strife.
As every storm and gale in life must end;
More patience pays us richer dividend.
poem by John Celes
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The Fruits of Mankind
Taste the bitterness of the fruits
that grow and rot within.
They lack the kindness that erupts
and oozes out as sin.
These fruits are part of every tree,
the tree from which they've grown.
They look like all the other fruit
but are different and they've known.
what lies within them is not right
and still they do conceal,
hoping to blend in with all the rest
until the skin does peel.
The tree cannot be blamed for this.
It's just the way things are.
We must discard these fruits to protect the rest
or they will leave their scar.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Smile
My face full of happiness,
My energetic excitement,
My eagerness,
They are all shown by my cute smile,
It is very precious,
And it is very unique too,
It is one of the uncountable,
And I will never let it go down,
And never frown, never frown, never frown....
poem by Suhani Shah
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Lone Bone
and then when we arrive at the prime
after a hard climb only to find nothing but thyme
life tastes like lime and we begin to mime
what to us was all grime and slime
to our face the ill-winds are blown
and what remains is the clown
we feel now that a clone has grown
inside ourselves we find what we own
the seeds have been sown in the throne
of the stone where our lips are sewn
the moan is thrown
& now back to the lone bone
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Harvest the seasons
and the grains of your labor
leave footprints in life.
haiku by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
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Gone Unknown By Those Who Feast
Some are born to sow beliefs,
To seed the growth of their feeding.
With a sewing done to aid their flourishing.
Many sit to watch a seeding sown,
To gather from a harvest...
With a feeding of their selfish needs shown.
And those familiar with others,
Misrepresenting the dispersement of their deeds...
Gone unknown by those who feast.
Are the least concern where it is they go,
To sow with a planting of their feet.
With tools provided to allow them to eat,
From 'Whom' bestows those seeds kept to grow.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Excited Magic
Perceptions kept,
Remains the 'key'...
For anyone with firm beliefs,
A philosophy adopted...
Keeps a life on a path free,
Of mental strife.
And living an existence one likes!
Uncluttered by deceptions...
Coming to sweep so many,
Into embittered confrontations.
To leave them drifting 'to and fro'...
With inclinations hidden.
That mask insecurities no one knows.
Perceptions kept,
Remains the 'key'...
To erase wrongs pieced together desperately.
With attempts to fit into a world...
No longer sustaining an excited magic,
Fading from an implementation,
Making less sense as documented.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Legend of the Albino Farm
Omaha, Nebraska They do not sleep nights
but stand between
rows of glowing corn and
cabbages grown on acres past
the edge of the city.
Surrendered flags,
their nightgowns furl and
unfurl around their legs.
Only women could be this
white. Like mules,
they are sterile
and it appears that
their mouths are always
open. Because they are thin
as weeds, the albinos
look hungry. If you drive out
to the farm, tree branches will
point the way. No map will show
where, no phone is listed.
It will seem that the moon, plump
above their shoulders, is constant,
orange as harvest all year
long. We say, when a mother
gives birth to an albino girl,
she feigns sleep after
labor while an Asian
man steals in, spirits
the pale baby away.
poem by Erin Belieu
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Expecting
Your mouth said this never
but your fingers have shown me
that your head is so clever
you claim that you own me
forever
You have the right to conduct me
in whatever fashion
your attempt construct me
in the interest of passion
you sent me
to toledo
I came back with handfulls
I did what you asked me
but after the thank yous
that you quickly got passed me
Im expected
youre expecting
Im expected
expected
song performed by by White Stripes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mysteries of The Kingdom
Some mysteries of The Kingdom were, given in parables for us to infer,
Some secrets of The Kingdom of God, while still upon this earthly sod.
Parables spoken by Jesus Christ, to demonstrate Truths of Eternal Life,
Hidden from the hearts and eyes; where God’s Truths are just despised.
Christ spoke of the faithful sower, planting seed for the Eternal Grower,
Then Jesus Christ went on to say, that not all seed fell in the same way,
Some fell onto the walking path, and soon destroyed, by Satan’s wrath.
Some seed fell upon the rocky soil, and with no root, soon would spoil.
Some seed fell within thorny soil, and was unfruitful because of the toil.
But in good soil some was sown, and an abundance of fruit was grown.
The Kingdom, Christ went on to say, was just like a field in another way,
Where there was good seed sown, weeds around that wheat had grown.
For the enemy had sown in the field, weeds where the crop would yield,
But to not uproot what was good, he let the weeds grow as they would.
The weeds would remain until harvest, but not to be treated as the rest,
The weeds are bundled to be burned, saving the wheat as they learned.
And in the garden is the mustard seed, with a Truth that we could heed,
Small and unimpressive in size, but, from it the largest plant would rise.
Christ spoke of yeast and its effect, in The Kingdom through the Elect,
Just as it is mixed in the dough, with the Spirit, growth begins to show.
The Kingdom’s like hidden treasure, filling the finder with such pleasure,
That he hides it again and is glad, to buy the field, spending all he had.
Like a fine pearl found by a merchant; all his property, would be spent,
To buy this one pearl of such worth, one which he found, here on earth.
The Kingdom of Heaven’s like a net, of a fisherman and all of his catch,
When it’s full and pulled to shore, it had good fish but it also had more,
The good, put into baskets to keep; the bad thrown back into the deep.
This, just like the end of this Age, with the deep being an eternal grave,
When angels gather souls of men, the righteous and those condemned,
The condemned, to fires below, while the righteous, to Heaven they go.
All these parables spoken of, illustrate The Kingdom of Heaven above,
And by Jesus Christ, are given to us, who in Him have placed our trust.
(Copyright ©01/2008)