Reaper
The farmer comes, he does not speak
his reaper clears the ground
along the rows and mounds of earth
and cuts with silent sound
The strands of gold are thrown aside
Cast into the wind
He moves into another row and
Cuts the quiet again.
A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.
Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
|---|---|---|
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
| Reaper | 0 | 03/25/2011 |
| Meanders | 1 | 12/10/2010 |
| Universe | 2 | 12/09/2010 |
| Will | 6 | 10/22/2010 |
| The Pillow | 4 | 07/27/2010 |
| Coffee | 8 | 02/10/2010 |
| Misery | 10 | 02/05/2010 |
| Without Surprise | 5 | 01/25/2010 |
| Cat Tracks | 7 | 12/29/2009 |
| Childrens Power | 8 | 12/20/2009 |
| Basket | 19 | 07/19/2009 |
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