Sat, 10/18/2008 - 7:40pm

~Fruit of th’ Vine~

~*~
Th’ fruit of th’ vine twines her trestle incline,
envelop ‘pon her delights in her garden patch.
Sprigs of lace, her seedlings nurture her hatch,
jewelling tones, her golden-reef amid her divine.
~*~
Berry trees, apple groves, grape vines so graceful;
a rich, splendid dance ‘tis her sun-ripened fruitage.
Crops in her farmlands ‘tis her picturesque homage,
reaps th’ harvest spent ‘pon th’ homeland so grateful.
~*~
O’ autumn splendor captivates her red-delicious apple,
grape vines splayed amid her vale of sweetened brines.
Berry bushes askew ‘pon her shrine aloft festive ravines,
‘pon fields of green, ‘tis her lusciously spent, rich snapple.
~*~
Pastures of her plentiful gifts nourish our abodes in droves,
quenching our palettes ‘pon th’ soiled earth ‘tis her reward.
Kingly feasts embrace of her God-given, replenished accord;
‘pon th’ fruit of th’ vine, ‘twined within her resplendent groves.
~*~
‘Tis her fruit of th’ vine~

Copyright ©2008 Barbara V. Fidler

Author’s comments: This poem is in tribute to the deep agricultural roots embedded in my hometown of Woodbine, New Jersey. Woodbine was the experimental agricultural-industrial colony envisioned by the Baron de Hirsch Fund trustees in the 1890’s. In the summer of 2008 The Smithsonian Institute included Woodbine for their traveling “Key Ingredients: America by Food” exhibit. Www.thesam.org depicts the Smithsonian exhibit and the rich history of Woodbine, NJ. Thank you and enjoy!

Fri, 09/26/2008 - 9:30pm

This is another example of NJ teachers excelling at inspiring and guiding their students to achieve and appreciate the world around them. Congratulations to the teachers and their wonderful students.

Wed, 09/24/2008 - 4:21pm

~In My Garden~

~*~
In my garden grows her jonquil,
as she mellows th’ morning thrill.
A tender sprite my blazon dandelion,
abreast ‘pon th’ sweet cornelian brine.
~*~
Lain fervent ‘tis her dancing bluebells,
a-sway to th’ beat in her trumpeting dell.
O’ my sweet cottage rose in tender bloom,
a quaint delight to smell her light perfume.
~*~
Lovely ‘tis her lily of th’ valley, my white bell;
swathed in spiritual charm, clad ‘tis her smell.
My pedaling posies all a glow, a spectral prism;
colourful arrays, haply in flight ‘pon her chrism.
~*~
Pretty tulips standing tall waving her silken stems;
‘pon th’ verdant meadow twines my woodbine gems.
Enrings th’ balmy elm, wrapped in her scarlet gown,
a queen in her royal dress prancing all ‘round th’ town.
~*~
In my garden~

Copyright ©2008 Barbara V. Fidler