Harvest Art

Plowing the fields of my farm, my soul, myself
With a ploughshare beaten from sordid words of distemper
Sowing seeds of observation
Into the bullshit-fertilized soil of the medium
I await with patience the fickle rains of fortune
For I have no connection and can’t afford irrigation
But when chance befalls, when conditions are ripe
When those arty sprouts shoot toward a watching heaven
I busy myself chasing off critical crows with violence
And poisoning whinging weevils with kindness
However, I’ve been recently taught about crop rotation
Which means sometimes fields are best left fallow and barren
So that’s my excuse for sitting on the sofa
Staring at the wall, having watched a deadly documentary
On the problems of modern farming

Questions answered about Joseph Robert by Joseph Robert negate themselves more than inform you that he is married to poet and writer Leilanie Stewart.

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One Response to Harvest Art

  1. Reblogged this on Leilanie Stewart and commented:
    My poet hubby’s latest poem is published at an apt time… on a rainy London day at the end of June! Long may the fickle rains of fortune fall on poets who not only can’t afford irrigation, but who have to plough their fields by hand, sowing seeds with calloused fingers and hoping against hope that the slugs will stay off the sunflowers. Pimms anyone? Let’s be optimist, poets, a new month is a-coming!

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