Sonnet On Curse Upon A Farmer’s Blessing

A farmer can never be churlish
even if shabby be his clothes
even if his clothes reek sweat
honest dirt grains forehead hands
his toil in hot sun blesses bellies
his labour feeds families prevents
famine starvation disease death
his field feeds pace of progress.

Destiny of kingdoms empires nations
are feed from lie in soil rough hands
dirt being cultivation civilization toils
politic threat war vast army marches
stomachs well fed fight pride glory wars
nature blesses with food feeding beasts.

poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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