Learn more about other poetry terms
The Harvest had just begun at a Seventh-Day Adventist Church. Brother and Sister Brown arrived there early in fancy clothes. The stingy couple did not bring any gifts for the Harvest.
If you plant the seeds of loveYou'll reap gorgeous flowers of loveIf you spray the seeds of hateMany plants and treesWill blossom flowers of hateAnd you won't like the fateNobody enjoys death and miseries
Harvest is over,Crops are in, andFalls's first killing frostStirs feelings of melancholySustained by winter's cold,With its bare trees,Migration, hibernation,Wisdom of fallow fields and
Previous month wasn't just the end of beginning of new month. It's not just how time flies. But how time upgrades to new stage.
The simple joy of autumn leaves Warm, gold hues on a sullen creek The beauty of their short descent The ephemeral life we all are meant They fall onto the winter ground
So let the messenger come down, To wrestle with the elder son, Who fasts so that his kin may feast, On crops that rise from fertile ground. So let the messenger come by,
Tiny dancer, fastened to her tree High above; the earth below. Poised, ready: autumn prompts Costumed, she tiptoes close... - She's dressed in nature's finest, Coverings so delicate, ever-changing
This New Earth The summer harvest Has been reaped To feed our souls. The last bounty gone To the dust of leaves, Clinging to the mother branch
And silver are the roses Guarding heavens golden gate, Behind which looms a shadow, The shadow of eternal fate. A luminous, glowing sphere rises to the stars,
The full moon, the dark sky. It never leaves my mind. It guides me all the way, through the twists and turns. You burn a mild orange now and again like that of the autumn color leaves.