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· 339 poems by truefeeling
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 Title   [ Click any title below to view poem ]Category Date
 Summer's heat and golden fields of Wheat Inspirational Poems 7/4/2019
 Scratch on mortal skin Inspirational Poems 7/1/2019
 Burn Summer, Burn... Inspirational Poems 6/23/2019
 Through The Candlelight Childrens Poetry 5/16/2019
 Natural Flair Inspirational Poems 5/10/2019
 Beauty and Peace Misc 5/5/2019
 Quiet musings in Spring time shade Inspirational Poems 4/29/2019
 Beauty and Wisdom Misc 4/25/2019
  While waiting for the white Spiritual Poems 1/17/2019
 Muse Misc 11/5/2017
 MOONLIGHT Love 2/24/2017
 Elephants Nature 8/22/2016
 The Shepherd's Hour Misc 8/15/2016
  Springtime Breeze Nature 3/31/2016
 Ode To A Night-In-Gale Grieving and Loss 8/26/2015
 Paper Planes And Crimson Tiles Life 8/17/2015
 Poetic Disturbance Insight 7/22/2015
 CICADAS Nature 7/18/2015
  Spiritual Equation Spiritual Poems 7/18/2015
 Mad Summer Memories Inspirational Poems 6/8/2015
 Zephyr Of The Jebel Vulture  Insight 6/5/2015
 the power of the silent words Inspirational Poems 1/27/2015
 joy,pain and between Insight 1/15/2015
 Dying Little Cat Grieving and Loss 1/14/2015
 Long ago ,happy days  Misc 1/13/2015
 SWITCH OF PITCH Misc 1/12/2015
 Blue smoke in the woods Inspirational Poems 1/5/2015
  DEATH HEAT Grieving and Loss 8/10/2014
 Poetic Drift Inspirational Poems 8/10/2014
 INK and TEARS Misc 8/8/2014
Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

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Summer's heat and golden fields of Wheat

Summer is not only boredom, laziness and sweat
But too much to gain? if we think otherwise, instead

Can winter be such cold if there were no glare
Cold and heat, merge and birth the poet's flair

These vast fields of wheat ripened by Summer's heat
Harvest done, slash tags left for tiny birds to eat

Rolling iron teeth, spin and devour acres of wheat
Under the sunny glare, no sight of sheep and bleat

Let's harvest what in cold days we did sow in furrow
Crops are Godsend for sowers, for critter and sparrow

Vast plains of varied hues, barley wheat and flour
Ripe heads are bent to the sharp edge of mower

Neither the sun, nor the weary task can be a reason
To let such wealth be lost, its now or never, the season

So summer as hot as a stove and a hellish Gehenna
But a heaven's open gate, to gain such a poetic Nirvana

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