Home Is Where The Harvest Is Poem by james watkin

Home Is Where The Harvest Is



Home is where the harvest is.
Peace reaped for the good sown
On Earth's field; storm-blown.
The tiller in from the rain.
The boon of air-marshals
Cracked of cerebrals.

Home is what the heaven is.
Manor, clouded yond hill
Indulged bleats do fill.
Lord's and lackey's, shorn of their
Lost sheep's mark undesired
Foul matted and mired.

Tuesday, October 29, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: heaven,home
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james watkin

james watkin

Melbourne Australia
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