when the season ~ fall comes ~
feel many hands over me
white hands
all kinds of fingers
searching for What?
has nothing more there
But,
there, they are
I can stand up myself
and starry is my vision
i forgot the rusted chains
i see the dark hands
through of
white fluffy blossoms
reaping what they sowed
all that gray
troubled with that blue
dissolve itself in tears
Like the wane moon
then,
as is above
is not as is below?
I feel many hands over me
faddish harvest of Fall
In poetry the imagery of agriculture and harvest straightly touch human life, the rise and fall the ups and downs, the fair seed time, sowing, reaping, garnering, winnowing, cutting....it's all so natural so human...even the Divine voice speaks in terms of harvesting it says we'll reap the reward inthe Day of judgement of what we have been sowing in the field of this world...this is your soul-searching in your own way...! ! ! beautiful work! ! ! if i am a lil right in my humble opinion! ! !
Dear Poet Ace of Black Heart, It's my own harvest! Thanks so much for your feedback, always a pleasure to read.
Dear Poet Altair, Thanks i loved your interpretation of my poem! ! ! Yes, is a little sad but spiced whit sweetness. And is about the age too, you always has something good to add. Really a poet soul. And i am very grateful for the fruit of fall season, makes me smile a lot.
With each ounce of grain, the farmer smiles. Running his old fashioned tractor for miles. Fields mechanically plucked, with all the love. It is almost sad to see, but it as it is this the time of the year. What a wonderful poem, and you have interesting way of seeing a fall harvest.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Dear Shahzia, has something divine and human like you said. We are the both. And You are right at the end we all reap what we sow. The law of return. Thank you for your kind words.