Reapers

By: EarlB , 12:21 AM GMT on September 29, 2013

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Amid the clatter of harvesters
Turning down the blanket
Of corn,
There arises a sweet smell
Of the kernel's sugary-starch
Warmed by the scythe-knives
Of the cutters,

Then there comes the sour note
Of fermenting green stems,

Then. all that is left
Is the sadness
Of an empty field.

And then there is this:

For the briefest moment,
I was first.
Then quickly, second, third…
Until the number didn't matter
To anyone (if it ever did).

Generations come, go,
Slip quietly away until
Once again I'll be at the front
Of the line,

Going or coming…
What does it matter?


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8. WunderAlertBot (Admin)
10:14 PM GMT on October 12, 2013
EarlB has created a new entry.
7. EarlB
12:09 PM GMT on September 30, 2013
shore,

i'm in the same boat re things from generations
past. being the only child, i have come to
accumulate so many things of value to me, but to
maybe no one else. i'm thinking maybe of using
those things to fuel the funeral pyre under my
body!! that way, my and their atoms will be
distributed equitably. ha ha

Member Since: September 19, 2001 Posts: 209 Comments: 104
6. palmettobug53
3:36 AM GMT on September 30, 2013
That's right, Shore. There's always going to be a wordsmith weaving and creating for the enjoyment of the rest of us.
Member Since: October 7, 2005 Posts: 232 Comments: 24991
5. shoreacres
12:05 AM GMT on September 30, 2013
Naw - the poets still will be around, delighting people who've given up their worries. The psychologists and psychiatrists might want to worry a little, though!

Wonderful verse. I never think of fall's empty fields as sad, though. Fallow, yes. But that's in the grand scheme of things - a time of rest before next summer's fruitfulness.

Your second poem raises an issue I've been thinking about more and more. My thought of my own death doesn't much bother me, but there's something truly sad about being "the end of the line". It makes me sad that there's no one to be the recipient of possessions that have come down through so many generations. So - creativity will be called for!
Member Since: October 4, 2004 Posts: 205 Comments: 15288
4. EarlB
10:23 PM GMT on September 29, 2013
pb,

not worying puts all the philosophers and poets
out of business! ha ha

eb
Member Since: September 19, 2001 Posts: 209 Comments: 104
3. palmettobug53
3:28 PM GMT on September 29, 2013
yep... the older you get, the faster those passings seem to happen. I've been reminded of it rather harshly this past few months.

There are fewer and fewer of my Mom and Dad's generation around and I'm getting closer and closer to being the generation tottering on that top rung and looking down!

It's a bit unnerving, to say the least.

Eh, I guess we should just enjoy things and try not to worry about it.
Member Since: October 7, 2005 Posts: 232 Comments: 24991
2. EarlB
10:32 AM GMT on September 29, 2013
dear palmettobug,

yes, as i get older i've been thinking about it
more than i had imagined i would have. every time
a friend or relative passes on, it's refreshed!

when i think of the process biologically, endings
aren't really endings, though. beginnings aren't
beginnings per se (though beginnings are really
amazing moments of chance when you think of the
result after 60yrs or so!

then there's the discussion about soul after you
come to terms with body!!

thanks for reading and taking the time to
comment.

eb
Member Since: September 19, 2001 Posts: 209 Comments: 104
1. palmettobug53
12:40 AM GMT on September 29, 2013
I like the imagery of your first poem. The freshly harvested field and the smells of the cut growth.

I've been thinking about the subject of your second one a good deal in the past few years. In my mind, I liken it to climbing a ladder (The Ladder of Life) and I'm nearing the top rung.
Member Since: October 7, 2005 Posts: 232 Comments: 24991

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