“Display wisdom by wining a soul today”  Felix Joe,
                                                                                        Proverbs 11:30   

THE GREAT HARVEST!

Enlarge the celestial coast

In labor you deserve a toast

Hurry! Hurry!

No gain if they roast

So my word, could make a boast

All fields greatly ripe, just harvest

Pest eats, yet contend all for wipe

My pleasure is keeping all the ripe

 Come harvest, earn a wage

Your inheritance stares in the field

Yes! For each, i paid my costliest

Truly! My heart beat is their count

My passion, is lavished regardless the cost

Engage he harvest, you wise is applauded

Show me you are wise.

And wear wisdom as robe

The stores are built

But the harvest, reluctant and few

Laborers are few

 Yet, the fields to harvest, so great

My son’s will they all so waste?

All ripen to eternal decompose?

My tears as sea, who will wipe?

 Giving me their soul

Yes! I can smile

Redeem the time

Your labor, attacking the spoilers

Yes! Fight. With passion for the spoil

My toil on the soil, all ripe

Will it come to spoil?

Tick says the time

Haste all must embrace

Time is upset and frowns

The supper table is set

The marriage setting all planned to posh

The groom set, anxiously wait

Heaven orchestra’s melody,

 Rehearsed and fine tuned

The father puffed to give his blessings

Angels all eager,

 Ready for the trumpets reunion

Where is the bride?

How ready is her resolve?

Is she willing to marry me?

Who will hasten her delay?

Is her passion for me stone cold?

But I won’t let go.

Yes! For love the price was much

Can’t someone go for me?

Harvesting my bride?

Oh laborers, sluggards I despise

Muster strength, adding courage

Gather the field into the store

So preparing the bride

For that day, I come quickly

Sounding trumpets, in search for my love

Her soul is my heartbeat.

 I come quickly

Rewards as wage in hand

Decorating great laborers

Harvesters of the great field

Yes! O sluggard!

Hide from my wrath

For never learning, the ants wisdom

All my saints, learn from the ants

Hurry, hurry, hurry, o! The harvest

Come one, call more laborers

The wage, a surplus

Yes! The harvest, so precious

I bleed for them, all naked with scorn

By it, build inheritance

Indeed the treasures are safe

Moot and termite wont dare it

Make your essence enjoy his presence.

Laboring to gather

The greatest of all harvest!

Author: the Holy Spirit

Felix Joseph osaeghemede

chumfin4poem@yahoo.com, +2348037825027

Written: 9.45am- 11:20am, 26-8-2009.

Port-Harcourt/Lagos.Nigeria.