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Blessed Are They Who Toil

The ghost moon of autumn yet hovers in the west
While golden rays of the sun emerge in the east.
Celestial movements bringing in the tide,
Waves cascading upon the sandy beach collide.

Fresh breeze does a good day signify
And sea gulls happily dance in the sky.
A worker kneels and gives his thanks,
For good fortune as the new day embarks.

He is wrapped in the warmth of a new birth
Urged to go forth and toil upon the earth.
His iron blade turning the black sod over,
Then disked smooth into a brown velvet texture.

The rye seeds he scatters by the wind
Each with its own little destiny at hand.
The sun reaches apex and in prayer he does kneel,
And then to have his noon-day meal.

Some bread and cheese---and cool water,
Sweat gleaming from his arms and collar,
Adding salt to the meal---seasoned just right!
While the sun turns to a bright hot-yellow light.

Now he turns his attention to another goal,
Working his fences and mending the hole
Made by a bull seeking a little heifer
In yonder greener pasture.

The sun has now spilled all of its heat
And the ebb tide abates in the East.
Red-rays spray across the western sky,
As he returns home to his family.

They gather at the table and pray
Their thanks for such a good day.
Sitting by the fire in their homely nook,
Reading aloud from the good book.

While readying their beds to God they declare
A need for peaceful rest in the cool night’s air.
Asking for the blessing of the day to come
And the good harvest days of autumn.

Review Request (Intensity): 
I appreciate moderate constructive criticism
Editing stage: 

Comments

I won't tear into this as you asked for moderate critique (not a lot to "tear" into), but allow me to point out some of what I saw.

Now he turns his attention to another goal,
Working his fences and mending the hole
Made by a bull seeking a little heifer
In yonder greener pasture.

The above is gorgeous and is the best (to my eye) of what the poem entire has to offer. I train horses for a living and occasionally work cattle, so I suppose it just struck me with its sincerity.

The imagery of the piece as a whole is beautiful. It's one of those poems that make a man sigh.
If I have a complaint, it is a personal peeve. I despise the capitalization of each verse. Although I am a traditionalist to the extreme, I feel this particular idiosyncrasy has lived its life and passed from this world as being confusing and trite (not that there aren't a dozen poets even here who use it regularly).
I look forward to your other post and its elegant use of English.
Again, welcome and I hope you find something here that will help you grow.

W. H. Snow

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley

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Thank you Wesley. Is there a "101" on styles here at Neopoet? Do you capitalize the first word in the verse---or just the beginning of each new sentence in the poem? I may be too old to change by idiosyncrasy but I'm willing to try. I'm a retired cattle rancher and have mended too many fences because a bull getting out of his pasture. Thank you for your thoughts and comments on the poem. Appreciate it. Drachm

author comment

I'm a horse trainer. Been doing it for 25 years.
I punctuate according to common usage. Just because I write in verse I don't feel gives me the excuse to ignore grammar. Not everyone agrees with me, but I do think it makes a poem easier to read if I capitalize just the first letter of a new sentence, place names and personal pronouns.

W. H. Snow

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley

Learn how, teach others.
The NeoPoet Mentor Program
http://www.neopoet.com/mentor/about

Wesley, that makes sense to me. Just seems everything was capitalize when I was a kid and I just followed along. Thanks you, Drachm

author comment

Lonnie, thank you for your kind remark. Drachm

author comment
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