The winners of the poetry competition on the subject of 'Harvest' were:-
1st;- Gary Edwards
Harvest Poem
When the Autumn air has descended
The evenings are lit up by the moon
Farmers look at the crops they have tended
On a summer that has ended all too soon
Reaping the grain
Field mice hanging by their tails on the wheat
Passers-by watching the combine harvester from the lane
Which when finished always look neat
Time for celebration
Churches filled with fruit and food
Going back through a generation
Harvest suppers to put us in the mood
We need to reflect and pray
In a world that is so unfair
Mothers, fathers and children will starve today
I wish we all could care
Runner Up, Pam Willing with a Limerick:-
The Harvest Festival Offering
There was a young farmer from Gwent,
Whose carrots were knobbly and bent.
The Vicar, dismayed,
Said “they can’t be displayed,
But they’ll make a good soup when it’s Lent!”
Other Poems:-
Harvest then and now by Marilyn Taylor
Harvest is here, a busy time for all
Farmers with pitchforks ready to stack, and dry
the grain for flour to be made
Wives with baskets of bread and cheese
flagons of cider too
Children helping when allowed time off school
playing before the gleaners join the team
Harvest thanksgiving, and supper to prepare
lots of fun and laughter to be heard
Now machines as long as houses, computer led
zip up and down the field,
no sounds of laughter only engine noise
Harvest thanks offerings now in tins
Gone is the supper or lunch, and a chat with
friends
Harvest Home, by Mike Griffiths
The answer lies in the soil they say,
but the seed relies on the light of day
with Springtime warmth and April showers
is a fine recipe for beautiful flowers
The Bread of life to Church we find,
but wheat is never far behind.
The seed is sown, we live in hope
that crops survive this earthly Soap.
In God’s Hand with Rhyme and Reason
we look to fulfil this Harvest season.
Harvest Poem by Lindsay Clarke
It’s tiny, so tiny, our piece of land,
Some beds and some flowerpots, not very grand.
But over the year,
With loving care,
mulching and hoeing,
Weeding and sowing.
Encouraging birds and bugs and bees,
Removing the slugs on hands and knees,
We have the joy of eating our own,
Blackcurrants, gooseberries, all home-grown.
Grapes and blackberries, courgettes, beans,
Apples, and herbs all shades of green.
A joyful harvest of love and care,
The miracle that happens every year.
And I know that my Heavenly Father tends me
With his loving care and protection, he
Nurtures me through the seasons of life
And all the problems that cause me strife,
The times of drought, the times of rain
The joys and laughter, the grief and pain.
And I pray that the fruit of my life will be
A harvest that honours his love for me.
Myself ~ a harvest by Linda Roberts
I began as a seed that was planted, the harvest of two people’s love
That became an embryo of possibilities.
It developed and I emerged.
I was fed, held and nurtured as a small being
That had lessons to learn, battles to fight
And a world to learn from.
Things to see, savour and touch,
The natural world with its many species, the weather in its various shades
Things to smell, tastes to try.
A cacophony of sounds to listen to,
An absolute wealth of experiences,
And then a growing awareness of personalities.
Not all kind; some loving, others hostile, but separate from me
In their own identities.
They were lessons in whom I would become.
As I grew, I evaluated things, aspiring and dismissing them
in equal measure.
I became an adult, the product of my journeys learning.
I became Me, with opinions, thoughts and actions that
reflected my inner being and always
aware of my searchings for-the Eternal One
Did I fall on stoney ground? Was I overtaken and smothered by the
Ideas of others or did I become that seed that fell
on good ground and bore fruit.
Who knows? God will decide in His time at the end of my days,
looking at my stay here with love and forgiveness,
wiping away the mistakes and treasuring who I am.
His judgement will be kind, full of love and understanding.
So might I have I pleased Him in some small way? Will he say
Well done My good and faithful servant?
My hope carries me.
Harvest Poem by Mike Donkin
Much depends upon a red apple,
Falling by gravity
Into the brown trug
With apologies to William Carlos Williams.
A Harvest Limerick by Mike Peters
“A farmer whose nickname was Boz
Had a bountiful harvest, because
The sun and the rain
Had ripened the grain,
And he gave thanks to God in St. Os”
A harvest Limerick by Liz Gibbons
A farmer called George grew potatoes
His yields had their highs and their lows
The haulms might look alright
But what grew out of site?
‘till he dug ‘em he never would know!
Harvest by Judith Haslam
The grass is cut, the silage made,
The bales are carted to the store,
The lanes with berries are arrayed,
It’s harvest-season here once more.
But round the World it is not so:
In war-torn areas fields are bare,
Floods, droughts lay waste the crops that grow,
And hungry people live in fear.
We long that greater World to see,
Where happy children dance and sing,
Where suffering’s over, all are free,
And poor folk feast with Heaven’s King!
O Father God, please hear our call,
And help us save this earth for all!