Collection of My Poetry

Harvest of Words

Fields of alphabets stretch across the globe

Swaying from each breath exhaled.

Each field containing different fruit,

Some sweet, some sour, some bitter.

But still, all fruits.

Surviving through all weather.

Tsunamis of fallen tears

Lightening and thunder's fiery rage

Earthquakes from the sky

Death's blood stained scythe

Yet, now, the fruits are tainted and dying.

Driven into accelerated ripening,

Spoiling the innocence of the fruit.

The fields blackened by the shadows,

in the shapes of man.

But within the rotting fields,

patches of untainted fruit still grow.

Illuminated against the blackened canvas,

made of its fellow fallen fruit.

Here lies a second chance.

From these forgiving patches,

New life could be woven.

Words with no hidden meaning,

Untouched by corrupted tongues.

So once again, let the Harvest of Words begin.