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Posts Tagged ‘wheat’

Who, mid the grasses of the field
That spring beneath our careless feet,
First found the shining stems that yield
The grains of life-sustaining wheat: 

Who first, upon the furrowed land,
Strewed the bright grains to sprout, and grow,
And ripen for the reaper’s hand –
We know not, and we cannot know. 

But well we know the hand that brought
And scattered, far as sight can reach,
The seeds of free and living thought
On the broad field of modern speech. 

Mid the white hills that round us lie,
We cherish that Great Sower’s fame,
And, as we pile the sheaves on high,
With awe we utter Dante’s name. 

Six centuries, since the poet’s birth,
Have come and flitted o’er our sphere:
The richest harvest reaped on earth
Crowns the last century’s closing year.

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In the sun,
The grain turns golden –
King Midas.

Sun and time
Turns growing green to
Valued gold.

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photo by Photonut at http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/2dQN1yJ/Sunset+in+the+Bush

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* The haiku I write are lines of 3-5-3 syllables instead of 5-7-5.

See Haiku article here for explanation, if needed: https://thebardonthehill.wordpress.com/2011/08/08/haiku/

——————–

© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2015.

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Turn Your Head, Please

Sign posted
So none’s embarrassed –
Bare Swimming.

——————–

 

The End Of The Western

Pilot rides
Into the sunset
Like cowboy.

——————–

 

Wheat

Golden heads
Waving in the wind –
The world’s bread.

——————–

Turn – photo by Andreas Krappweis at http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/nVItqYe/Brown+Bear+swimming

Western – photo by Marja Flick-Buijs at http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mfkED72/Airplane+sunset+illustration

Wheat – photo by Agnes Scholiers at  http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/o7HMk7o/Wheat

——————–

* The haiku I write are lines of 3-5-3 syllables instead of 5-7-5.

See Haiku article here for explanation, if needed: https://thebardonthehill.wordpress.com/2011/08/08/haiku/

——————–

© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2015.

 

 

 

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Bread

(Photo credit: ulterior epicure)


Give Us This Day Our Daily Bread

Back of the loaf is the snowy flour,
And back of the flour is the mill,
And back of the mill is the wheat and the shower,
And the sun and the Father’s will.

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How could she love me like the wind –
So touch my face, and make me bend
To her, and then just disappear
On backs of white-tailed leaping deer?

As quickly as a norther blows
O’er prairie land, and never slows,
And ripples wheat like ocean waves
She stirred my soul.  She made me slave

To her, to wind, that travels on.
And after all the breeze has blown,
And all the leaves and flags are free,
Alone I stand in slavery.

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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2011. 

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