The world is a wheat field,
Skillfully sprinkled with dresses of red poppies
To sing and chirp and laugh.
The fruitful ears murmur in a whisper
In the breeze of summer noon,
In the hot flickering of July air,
Until the reapers and the combines come
And all the ears are cut down with sharpened sickles and the Grim Reaper’s scythe,
With winnowing, drum, threshing, sieve, auger conveyor
And straw walker,
Until only the full grain remains for fragrant bread.
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Author:
Lily of the valley (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 21st, 2026 00:35
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 17
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy
- In collections: Chiaroscuro.
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Comments1
Metaphoric of life itself and the harvest of souls where the fruitful and good grain is kept for the making of bread and the chaff is cast off. It feels parable like and biblical in a sense. Well done
Thanks for the 'Well done.' It's true that it has a biblical ring to it, even though I didn't intend it. I grew up with my grandmother's Bible and later, as a philologist, I wrote about biblical elements in the poetry of contemporary Croatian poets as well as in the dramatic and novelistic discourse of the great Croatian writer Miroslav Krleža. So, I can't escape biblical images, motifs, quotes, and meanings. You understood that perfectly.
You are most welcome Durdica I did not mean the biblical reference as a slight but simply an observation. I too grew up in a religious background and even served as a missionary (although no longer religious) so it was a natural observation. I still like the feel of that type of writing and appreciate it for what it is.
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