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neth jones Jul 26
00
night drums                
          spousing heat distorts

in tall grasses              
          insects chirr and fling

in moonlight              
a fertile field
In Parsley, a Levantine munificence accreted together in Tabbouleh,
herbage that covers fractured bedrock in a poultice of healing.

Secreted within, lie igneous outpourings of bloodied tomatoes,
those solid affections that had welled through an ocean floor

as Neptune quelled Gaia's contractions, her waters seeking to burst
beneath the wrinkled surface of a salty sea. She, an underbelly of sky,
  
pregnant in the overwhelm of magma, sweating out her heart in fire,
muted like a moon of Neptune, in his retrograde soliloquies, yet mirroring

hers in icy resurfacings of skin. The God of the Sea,  boils an amnion  
to hazy mists, how deep will his trident plunge to dislodge those Trojan ships

of deceptions ? Yet, Triton blows a conch for Gaia, not for man's duelling
and his warring tribes. He soothes her feverish gnashing of thighs

labouring continents. Some fires burn in water, like desultory heartbeats
moving the pace of rocks through the ocean floor, spiriting away

to stranger places still, marking maps of memories in the beauty of
a stillborn magma. The limestone they say is no blood relation to such

alien fructification, those oceanic intruders, bleeding still, spilling
secrets in reds and purples. The acid tears spilled in lemons merely

neutralised in syllables, sedimented to a community of  limestone,
that possess no archaic remnants reminiscing through dead bones,

an age of glory. Now beauty lies in herbage over once raucous magma
and traces of a salty sea, freshness of life trailing her veins, in fragrance of Parsley
This poem was written in a way to thread together themes of Roman myths, the moon of Neptune and NASA's proposed Trident mission to Triton, the Jonestown/Lebanon County Volcanic field and a levantine salad. It is specifically based on the Geology of the volcanic field ara located in Southeastern Pennsylvania. Do read the synthesis of it all at davinasolomon.org/2021/06/21/a-levantine-myth/
Nylee Mar 30
My lonely field
no one to accompany,
there are weeds growing
high up till my chin.
I am barefoot,
walking around aimlessly
my feet are bleeding
many pebbles beneath my feet
I am searching for the sun
hiding behind the clouds
the colours are sepia
black, brown, yellow
soon there is rain
pouring over my face
the scene goes muddy
then moon follows
and the night conquers
and till when it is dawn
I am long gone.

a walk in my field,
a walk into my life
it is how it is
stay where you are
scenery is not pretty
.
Svetoslav Mar 24
crystals stuck in fields
people believing the things
they wish were real
Ash Jan 29
WELCOME TO THE FIELD.

Every dawn is hidden by
a shroud of mist and rye
Every sordid crop of wheat
makes for a hasty retreat
Every trampled blade of grass
is a hand cut on the glass

The trail is planted over
Luck ain't no four-leaf clover
The Field ain't no place to be
But it's too late, you can see

MAY YOUR REAPING EVER YIELD.
this was fun to write
Far away, some years ago
A man sowed corn in his field
Confident, and hopeful too
Of the hearty crop he’d yield

Then birds flew in at sunset
And gobbled up many seeds
The farmer acted quickly
To provide his family’s needs

A woven net - to trap the birds
His precious seeds to preserve
He caught five geese and a stork
To get what they deserve

The stork said, “I am innocent
I’ve eaten none of your corn
Free me - I’ve done goodly deeds
Since the day that I was born”

The farmer said, “that may be so
But in this group you were caught
You receive the punishment
Of the company you’ve sought”

The same holds true for all of us
The rewards you choose to reap
Will likely be those given out
To the company you keep
This is Prosperity Poem 107 at ProsperityPoems.com and you can see it displayed on a beautiful background (copy and paste the link below). https://prosperitypoems.com/delivery107TheCompanyYouKeep.html
You can sign up for free weekly delivery of poems at Prosperity Poems (.com)

This poem was inspired by a parable on my Mom's website.  I found out while writing the poem that the story is actually an Aesop's Fable.
SpiritHeart67 Jan 16
if everything that is
has ever been
and ever
will be
already exists
In an all
encompassing
Quantum Field

Does that mean
It's all already occured
and everything
has already passed
Before it becomes
Our present?

is our
Present
simply
an already existing event
We are just arriving at?

No past or future
Before or after
Just all that is
Unfurled out before us
In every
direction...
In the field
The harsh and empty field
Something doesn't leave me
A shadow may be

With the wind
it moves
With the sun
it shines
And in the night
it does'nt die

Inmortal is my soul
My ached soul
That keeps me moving
in the eternal dancing
the girl with the ocean eyes
says the hardest goodbyes
a sea of poems, a field of sighs
what can we do, to make things right?
this is one of my favorites :)
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