Bad time sad day
No smile no laugh
No child no cry
She sat down on old wooden stool
Waiting for the collection of seeds,
It’s the harvest time.
Good days had gone:
Ploughing and planting
Watering and nursing
Every day in the season.
It’s time for breeding:
Hard and painful
Bending and staggering helplessly
Because harvest time is near.
Vineyardist is going up and down like a kite
Peeped through the door to call the door keeper
And ask what have happened?
Bad time sad day has come around again
One basket of seeds is collected
Because the land is weak
And seeds died,
This time the land died.
The village is calm
As babies are sized from breasts
Women from kitchens
Men from works
Sad day comes every year
As the youths are missing
And the olds are increasing.
Comments
Poignant!
Crop failure ( known as harvest failure) is an absent or greatly diminished crop yield relative to expectation, caused by the plants being damaged, killed, or destroyed, or affected in some way that they fail to form edible fruit, seeds or leaves in their expected abundance.
Could this caused by the sudden changes in the climate change?
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I really like your critique
I really like your critique always ... More wisdom!
The Land is Sick
Hello
A strong poem. I can feel the the frustration and the deep worry, and I can see it in the faces of those mentioned. The description of the land is heartbreaking, relating to the well being of everyone trying to produce food and sustenance. I can sense the loss and the agony. An eye-opening poem written at an important time when it needs to be read.
Thank you,
Lavender
I like your critique... You
I like your critique... You've helped alot