• POETRY CORNER

      – 10/24/18

      Hosted by Kathabela Wilson

      Before the feast of harvest comes the work of it. Sometimes all the conditions are right to produce the feast we all wish for. Spring seeds and waterings nurture expectations. Time passes and the results of our work are to be seen, felt, sometimes as hoped for, and sometimes become something to watch, and even endure. They demand all our creativity and strength. The positive fruits of human kindness are the greatest rewards, as Natalia Kuznetsova points out, “the fantastic gift named happy childhood.” These are the treasures, our rich harvest of remembered smiles.

      ~ Kathabela

      Ο Ο Ο

      Ready to harvest (Photo - Natalia Kuznetsova).

      Ready to harvest (Photo – Natalia Kuznetsova).

      Giselle Maya

      a stronger flow
      the capricious spring’s gift
      this quiet place
      where i wander filling my pockets
      with walnuts fallen to earth

      Ο Ο Ο

      Paul Heinowski

      fruit falls
      and time passes
      used or not

      Ο Ο Ο

      Field of Unplucked Dreams (Photo - Richard Grahn).

      Field of Unplucked Dreams (Photo – Richard Grahn).

      Richard Grahn

      when the crops were grown
      the reaper came…
      now she lingers in the fields
      of unplucked dreams
      they planted

      Ο Ο Ο

      Haiga by Mary Ellen Gambutti

      Haiga by Mary Ellen Gambutti

      Mary Ellen Gambutti

      field mice skitter
      in the corn bin
      dust and dried husks

      Ο Ο Ο

      Haiga by Pris Campbell

      Haiga by Pris Campbell

      Pris Campbell

      dawn light
      dining on what the tide
      left behind

      empty field
      the raindancer came
      far too late

      Ο Ο Ο

      Ready for harvest haiga by Natalia Kuznetsova

      Ready for harvest, haiga by Natalia Kuznetsova

      Natalia Kuznetsova

      my late grandma
      her smile on every apple
      in her basket

      Ο

      Time to Harvest: Quotes and Credits

      Giselle Maya lives in St. Martin de Castillon, France. She feels the rejuvenation that has come to recede her harvest. She says: The roses will open one last time, the herb garden is greening, the olive tree grows taller, and the newly planted cherry trees as well; the long drought is broken.” She is gathering walnuts.

      Paul Hienowski lives in the small city of Inverness in the Scottish Highlands. He tells this story: “We have a couple of apple trees, and most years, we only harvest a handful of the apples. The blackbirds love it! I sometimes muse to myself about how we enjoy “wasting” time. It passes anyway, so why not just enjoy it? I think Robert Frost wrote a poem called “Unharvested” which I found quite captivating.”

      Richard Grahn lives in Evanston, Illinois, near Chicago. He says: “I grew up in the fields of southern Wisconsin. There the cycle of life is undeniable. To see the labor of planting and growing come to fruition always brings out the boy in me. Strong relationships are really no different than healthy fields of grain. They’re both the result of tender loving care, they both take hard work, and they both find ways to thrive in the sun and the rain.”

      Mary Ellen Gambutti lives in Sarasota, Florida. She says: “I took this photo the last time I was in Pennsylvania visiting my mother. It’s a feed corn field, and the farm store is nearby. The culmination of the year’s growth, the brittle dryness of a harvested cornfield. The mouse, too, harvests the corn for winter.”

      Pris Campbell lives in the Greater West Palm Beach area, in South Florida. She says: “The birds are rapidly gaining in number here at Lake Worth, where the bugs and small shore life are juicy and ripe for the taking.” But she also remembers, as we all do, “There are those horrible times when a harvest would be due but the ground has had no rain and food is scarce.”

      Natalia Kuznetsova in Moscow, Russia, muses: “Harvest season is something which is of great significance for each and all. And has always been through the whole history of humankind. It is a celebration of human endeavor, hope and perseverance…Indeed, you reap what you sow. Grandmother died long ago, but her gentleness, kindness and love for you stay forever as for all others who gave you the fantastic gift named happy childhood. But when you pick apples from the old tree she planted and put them in the old basket she used, it all comes back with warmth gratitude.”

      Ο Ο Ο

      We welcome and encourage your response, especially in the form of a short poem, by leaving a comment below.


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      Contributor

        • Kathabela Wilson

          Kathabela Wilson is a local poet/writer/artist and musician. Her Poets Salon has become an international respected must read in the poetry world. She's the creator and host of the Pasadena-based group, “Poets on Site.”

          Colorado Boulevard is your place for enlightening events, informative news and social living for the greater Pasadena area.
          We strive to inform, educate, and work together to make a better world for all of us, locally and globally.

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      Comments

      1. Alex Nodopaka says:

        The Evils of the 5-Leaves Harvest

        As the saying goes
        it kills your brains slowly

        I light myself another joint

        and snap back,
        I’m in no hurry.

      2. Kath Abela Wilson says:

        Beautiful to be in your garden and kitchen with you Giselle, and soaking in all the details so beautifully explained. Here where we are it is 4 am in Shanghai as I write to you. There are many unusual fruits, here… including us! I love your poem! I love your description “each rosebush is hoed around its root and nourished with seaweed fertilizer and sheep dung”

        Thanks to you and all the wonderful poets who join me
        on this beautiful corner.

        Love from Shanghai,
        Kathabela

      3. Giselle Maya says:

        a Magical time here in Provence – we had several small Rains, golden sunlight, the grapes are harvested, my walnuts are picked from the ground one by one, where they fell from the tree, spread on an old sheet and drying in the guest room, quinces are fallen from the trees, cut into small pieces, sugared a little and cooked an a slow flame into a compote that is saved in glass jars or eaten right away — lots of garden preparations for winter – meanwhile, each rosebush is hoed around its root and nourished with seaweed fertilizer and sheep dung. Lots of help is needed at this time of year . . . a good time to plant as well — adessias to you poets far and wide all over our dear planet — happy gardening — a friend from a nearby village gave me some of his last tomatoes and peppers – merci

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