“great expectations”

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man of the soil

formed of elements
found in dirt

humble dust
on torn tee shirt

patient farmer
works fertile soil

all year harvesting
hope for toil

plant every spring,
gather in fall

watch crops grow
green, all stand tall

by sweat of brow
coax life from sod

till soul returns
to soil’s God.


We’re playing in the dirt with Bjorn for dVerse poetics this week…

delirium in dirt

Not sure if this would be considered haiku (nature)or senryu (human nature).

 

moonlight stirs crazy

work late against chance of rain

farmer digs darkness

 

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photo by lynn

broken cliches

A nonet (1st line of 9 syllables, then 8…) written while waiting for dear patient.

 

to listen, absorb doctor’s orders

recovery will try patience

hard to keep a good man down

week of farmer’s birthday

why should cow kick him?

broken left arm

surgery

husband

heal

.

 

 

 

make hay, as they say

 

Today, Boncho’s haiku (below) inspired mine. The smell of cut alfalfa is a wonderful aroma! Another season of haying will soon begin with our first cutting here in Iowa. It’s pleasant to drive tractor for baling hay, if not too windy and dusty.

 

farmer works up sweat

bales hay on summer evening

to feed hungry cows

-lynn

how cool cut hay smells

when carried through the farm gate

as the sun comes up!

-Boncho

 

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photo by lynn

 

Nozawa Boncho was a Japanese poet born c.1640. He spent most of his life  working as a doctor in Kyoto. Boncho was one of Matsuo Bashō’s followers and wrote many famous haiku in his day. This is my response to Carpe Diem Haiku Kai: Utabukuro.

shimmer of life

 

flashlight searches cattle herd

shines on curly white forehead

 

newborn calf, wet in moonlight

cow’s warm tongue licking clean

 

baby rides shiny cart to barn

gleam of mama’s watchful eyes

 

colostrum drips from suckled teat

sheen of pitchforked straw

 

farmer’s smile shimmers thankful pride

 


Joining dVerse poets for Victoria’s quadrille (44 word) “shimmer” challenge.

time is a friend

 

time ripens good seed

farmer waits ever patient

harvest fruit will come

as the farmer…life

 

as intense eyes

scan darkening skies,

playful wind flaps shirt sleeves.

 

as strong shoulders

stack square hay bales,

rising dust covers tanned skin.

 

as nimble feet

climb grain bin ladder,

straw chaff infiltrates flaxen hair.

 

as skillful hands

manipulate diverse tools,

old grease wedges under fingernails.

 

as experienced ears

attune engines musical noise,

stale soybeans nest in jean pockets.

 

as determined teeth

test corn kernel moisture,

rich manure clings to chore boots.

 

as gentle arms

carry bawling calf or kitten,

pelting rain drips off seed cap bill.

_______

This is a “list poem”, 

inspired by and dedicated to my farmer.

Linked to d’Verse Poets

 

summer solstice

 

light holds night at bay

warm earth blooms, time to make hay

farmer’s favorite day

 

dandelion lawn

cows in pasture, tractor’s song

work as day is long

 

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Written in response to Carpe Diem’s prompt as we all anticipate the longest day

planting promises

Shanyns at http://dversepoets.com encouraged us to plant seeds!

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“Those who sow in tears will reap

with songs of joy.

He who goes out weeping,

carrying seeds to sow,

will return with songs of joy,

carrying sheaves with him.”

(Psalm 126:5 & 6)

 

I.

listening sows seeds of empathy

kindness sows seeds of unity

understanding sows seeds of peace

waiting sows seeds of patience

curiosity sows seeds of knowledge

prayer sows seeds of faith

sacrifice sows seeds of love

 

II.

farmer hauls last harvest’s hard work of golden kernels

past this year’s green fields of new crops standing on row;

 

educator wraps up difficult school year with fresh ideas

for creative learning adventures with students next term;

 

graduate reminisces glory of past achievement even

while looking ahead in pursuit of future opportunities;

 

young mother forgets pain of groaning labor when

snuggling softly whimpering newborn to her heart;

 

married couple celebrates milestone anniversary

thankful for gritty grace to commit for lifetime;

 

writer smiles at words wrestled into submission after

thoughts are extracted, expressed with fluent flourish.

 

 

 

pity for pumpkins

 

The Farmer plants seeds in his field

and from the dust grow living vines

which, with time and tender care,

produce a lovely patch of pumpkins.

 

But the locals, jealous of his bounty,

declare the neighborhood is overrun

with too many pumpkins already and

decide to selectively smash and destroy.

 

“Let’s pull little ones off the vines!”

they yell, and pluck the smallest orbs,

prematurely; throwing them on the

refuse pile, unripe and unwanted.

 

Then they notice some fully grown

pumpkins that didn’t develop into

perfect specimens – a little lopsided,

warty, or sporting misshapen ridges.

 

“We cannot stand to look at them!”

Those deemed imperfect pumpkins

are next to be ripped from the vines

and carelessly heaved into the ditch.

 

Obviously, all worthy pumpkins

must be a rich shade of true orange;

so pumpkins of different shades or

mottled skin must also be tossed out.

 

By now, pumpkin-smashing fever has

caught the mob in a frenzy of destruction

until they leave only busted bits of shells,

slimy orange guts and the Farmer’s tears.

 

 

pump

(Photo and poetry prompt from brian  at d’Verse Poets.)

poiema

 

farmer

so solid

yet sweet

as Iowa

corn

blond

and tan

radiating

the sun’s

warmth

honey

you will

always be

my golden

boy

 

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