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Below by month are a sample of poems that Dr John WorldPeace JD has selected from daily internet postings for recognition in his Harvest Poems Series from websites like:

All Poetry
Facebook - The Poetry Kingdom
Facebook - Facebook Poetry Society

If a poet wants his poem to appear, he or she can submit his or her poem for consideration to


This Project is at this point just an experiment in promoting poetry in general and creating a forum for unrecognized poets and poets who will probably never publish a book of poems. It is also an avenue for Dr WorldPeace to refine his definition of what poetry is in the Third Millennium. Other than a link on Dr John WorldPeace JD Poetry website, there will be no other promotion for the Harvest poems in the foreseeable future. It is expected that financially this project will operate at a loss. There is a some cost in time and money to maintaining this project.

Dr WorldPeace is the only person involved in the selection.

These monthly publications are an alternative to poem contest and submissions to magazines and other like publications. Rejection by these publications and not winning a contest is demoralizing to the new poet who does not understand the truth of these formats.

A book of poems can be self published for free if a poet uses KDP Amazon. Amazon only makes money on the sale of the books sold. It is not easy to learn the process but once learned it does not change.

Dr WorldPeace has about 80 books published on Amazon.

Search: Amazon.com - Books - Dr JohnWorldPeace JD

After almost all the poems selected, Dr WorldPeace writes his comments. This commentary could be about the style of the poem or some or all of the content. If Dr WorldPeace has nothing to say about a poem, it will probably not be selected for the Harvest.

The is no monetary compensation to the poet. There is no notification to the poet that his or her poem was included in a monthly publication. The is not going to be a data base of poets and poems selected because of the cost associated with creating that data base. The publication of a poem would be a reference for the poet's resume.

Any request to remove the poem, or for corrections to the poem or change of name under the poem title needs to be sent to


Any other comments relating to these monthly publications should be sent to:


Thanks for your consideration,



Paperback available on Amazon.com - click on the book image

Paperback available on Amazon.com - click on the book image

A selection of poems in the November edition

Mary Boren

I drift alone upon a storm-tossed sea
aboard a leaky vessel in the chase
for someone else who looks and sounds like me
and comprehends the challenges we face.

I'm told to buckle up and never whine
about the weight of sorrow on my back
from stolen heritage. "What's yours is mine,"
they say, "we've set you on an equal track."

But drowning in an ocean fraught with tears
or trudging through a desert parched with thirst,
the vestige of oppression through the years
will never fade until the tide's reversed.

Why should it threaten you if I demand
a sign that you can see and understand?


John WorldPeace - Looking for love in all the wrong places. The higher up on the pyramid you are the fewer like you can be found. Finding someone that can understand your words, or care to understand, is almost an impossible task. I have made 5 attempts, all crash and burn. Living in a loving? relationship starving to death. Even sleeping with the enemy. Talking to the deaf and blind and expecting a response. Expecting a drink from empty clay jars and music from wooded gongs.  Where is that pearl of great price. 

Scott Antley

one day i woke from sleep with dread
i couldn’t shake the feeling i was dead
for half an hour or so
i had to lay there and let my mind go

i truly felt as if i had died
scared, in doubt and disbelief i wondered why’d
such a feeling would come down upon me
the confusion i felt wasn’t letting me be

if i was dead how could i be awake
surely my soul was to stay not take
to this day i don’t know why
that day when i woke and i felt like i had died


John WorldPeace - There are infinite parallel tracks in life. You changed tracks for some reason and have yet to discover why. The old you did not die, it lives on. You just canT feel it anymore. Moment to moment all your infinite lives intersect. When you become aware of that you understand how and why you can script your future. 


K Juday

My brother is Matt
My best friend is matt
My boyfriend's brother is Matt
My name is is Kelly
Juday is my last name
The bible is my friend
Lee is my middle name
To the end I always believe
Jesus I'll see you at the end


John WorldPeace - The first book of the New Testament is Matthew. Kelly (Kel Lee) Lee Juday a poetic name. Jesus never left so he said. So just close your eyes and he is there. No need to wait. You best see him with your heart in the spiritual dimension not with your earth eyes in this earth dreamscape. He said his kingdom is not of this world.


the distance, the sweet tragedy
burning the heart, your sorcery
stay far if not close
do not be far when so close
do not speak for words hit like arrows
do not look with icy shadows


John WorldPeace - Do not be far when so close
Do not speak for words hit like arrows
& the best line
do not look with icy shadows

Poems are sometimes made up of hidden one line poems and free verse Haiku

Amu Simon Kwaku    

If being poor was a virtue,
I would have prominent badges
If poverty was a ship,
I would have been your captain

Because like the three-quarters of you,
I have known him since I was a toddler
He has been my teacher and my lawyer
For he fights my battles like a warrior

But because he is who he is,
His sons never want to be called his
He is become a silent monster,
Devouring our freedom and peace of mind

If affluence were switches,
No one would ever put them out; off
And if to be rich was to be wrong,
No one would ever chase it for so long

Wealth has its own worth,
It took many from south to north
But it never is the answer to all the questions
For many are the things money cannot buy

So though I hate being poor for this long,
I fear being rich doing what is wrong



John WorldPeace - So though I hate being poor for this long
I fear being rich doing what is wrong. This a very powerful poem on its own.

Myself I fear having any money when I die and God asking me why I did not give it away while alive. All gifts are gifts from God to be passed along, not hoarded.

Janet McGlone 

surprise deal, When it belonged to them in first place !
Before they were raped from land they hearts were torn
Destroyed by greedy rich white man
Land still belongs to the rightful owners
Even thou greedy ones still behold
Stolen land and trees that made them breath
Rivers that flowed and buffalos
Thee land is theirs
Give them back their land right to live free
Keeping their culture alive through the years
Give them taste of right to freedom
Not to give then take it back
That is act of Indians giver
So give back their right to freedom Indian who was wrongfully dispossessed of a particular piece of property
Their land and home

John WorldPeace - You cannot relive the past. All things change and good things go and bad things come and vice versa. What we can do for sure as Americans is to acknowledge that good Christians committed genocide with no apology to date. Genocide is worse that Slavery but in the Black reparations there is no talk of the Native Americans anything.

Sandra Elaine Collins

Betrayal was her down fall,
now waits for death to call.
Upon the pages now she lay,
heavy price she has to pay.
Banished by a fairy queen,
for blasphemy of words obscene.


John WorldPeace - I dont do contest. Only ever did one. Regardless this is a great poem with an amazing graphic sister. Dont wait on a contest to do more. Dont ever stop. 

Ted Markstein

the heart of love, the heart of love
so inopportune, so inconvenient
so out of time, all caution abandoned
cast to the winds of unconstrained emotion
intemperate, extravagant, the stuff of nightmare
dreaming gone awry, done and dusted
no good will come of it, but what good is good?

the heart of love, the heart of love
the burning, the white hot fervour
all restraint, melted in an instant
desire will immolate the infinite
so uncontrolled, so driven in urgency
so urgent in desperation for fulfilment
all fall before the rushing wave of its will

the heart of love, the heart of love
the great white heat, the chill of entropy
through the nothing of everything
through that which has no name
ever present, out of time, beyond
all beginning, beyond every finality
forever beats the heart of love

John WorldPeace - At 72 I know well this creative monster. Without this energy in varying degrees there would be no human race. It takes an iron will to control this beast. It is a healing energy and the true source of all creativity. It is the foundation of long life. There are those like Gandhi who possessed it and those like Jeffrey Epstein. So many good people destroyed by its power. The young who read this poem, need to read it, won't truly connect to its truth for a handful plus of decades of life. God help them if they fall in love with someone who does not possess it.

Nicely written truth

Linda Garfield

Mum, I thought I was over the loss of you,
But today it's been 7 years, do you miss me too?
A while ago, I played your songs and fell apart,
The memories so clear to me, breaking my heart.

The tears have fallen once again, my prayers unanswered,
clouding my eyes leaving them blurred,
tell me when the sorrow stops,
Heartache and tears, missing our trips to the shops.

I cant imagine getting over the loss,
Sometimes I feel angry and get rather cross
You left me, did you remember me at the end?
Your mind in turmoil of fear that would not bend.


John WorldPeace - Those whose bodies die never leave us. Intense memories are proof that they live. You can intensely communicate with them in meditation and dreams if you ask them. But the body to body intensity for which we come to this dreamscape is painfully gone. The dead leave their memories in photos and things they owned. They are not even gone but simply waiting for you to finish your work from a beautiful place.

I felt your pain. Nicely written. Nicely communicated



There is no plastic sheet like an oak leaf.
Find me some thermosetting lilies
To lay on the grave with seeping grief
for grass that still grows and nurtures
though our goodbyes will be so brief
as we'll place synthetic white carnations
with polyester wreaths of disbelief
to the dark brown muck of yesterday.


John WorldPeace - I read it carefully and began to understand it on the third line. I could  not connect with thermosetting lilies. I missed something there. The last line is negative truth and I would have added and finished with something positive, like cherished memories or eternal life. That said this poem is solid. For me, poems just flow, and if I change them, even a word, they collapse.

Not depressing just truth


Foreverr young

light speed we see sunshine
dark nights stars shine upon their maker
times is nothing new but highly over changed twerked
our minds belief so so wrong
what if nothing is anything but one full even circle
trying to move never starts a clock
nor does steps or wondering bluntly
was the clock moving did it ever die
could we be on a tile loop
or is time about time from time to tome with time
time is not or we see believing a way forward has not tipped the clock

John WorldPeace - There are infinite parallel universes in every nanosecond. Our computer soul makes choices moment to moment. Every possibility exists. Therefore everything is pliable and we write our future script moment to moment. Or as Jesus said, ask and receive, seek and find, knock and enter. If you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you can move mountains and nothing will be impossible for you. Everything you wrote in your poem was true when you wrote it and true for the person standing next to you. A nano second later he was gone on his path and you on yours or maybe you both lingered together a nano second longer.

Mind Provoking Poem


Amber Roze

Blowing from different directions
all is welcomed and refreshing
easing the scorch of summer's heat
til winter comes and we retreat

Freeing as the needed breeze
carries with it all the seeds
varied tastes
weights and fragrances

Over many terrains
wisps soar like birds in flight
spirited swooshes
of young lives

When a breeze turns mad
it's air has bite
with wrath, it will clash
collide and combine
breeze becomes wind
its strength you can hear
roars turn as thunder rumbling

It whips and stings
barrels and rips
but it won't  last
as rising tides
causing waves to wake
then it's tantrum subsides
as a baby whines and tires
leaving the breeze peaceful again

Kissing flowers, spices, vines and trees
whispers breath of ofo
lemongrass, jasmine, mint, eucalyptus
Oak, Cypress, Maple, Birch and Citrus
large trees, strong and mighty and wise
Never angry, against the wind
trees don't waiver, they only bend
they nurture and shelter
with arms that transcend

Roots run ever to the waters depth
leeches through each inch
like fingers digging
through the layers of hell
taking strength and purging waste
neath the rivers bed and
under the ocean's floor
below the rock and ashe
are we just one more
what's finally beneath, I wonder if maybe
It's just one heartbeat

From the top of the highest soar to the tip of the deepest roots
all to the center of one world
at the beginning of time
from the top, to the core
follow the lines
like a ball of twine

John WorldPeace - It was all about change and the infinite dynamics of this dreamscape and your recognition of many things most never give a thought to. I look for free standing one line poems within all poems I read. I found these in yours: 1) Never angry, against the wind, trees don't waiver, only bend. 2) Roots run (always) to the waters depth. 3) Follow the lines unravelling like a ball of twine. You have the right stuff I hope you never subordinate your poetry to frivolous things. I like your profile name.

A worthy poem



Michael Gottlieb Spangenberg

President Trump and First Lady Melania Trump contracted Covid-19, a surprise that all medical doctors saw coming

Get well or I told you so was the worldwide reception on the bomb shell news that our Messiah contracted covid-19

it's shocking to realize that even playing God doesn't eradicate the mortality of the ones who consistently advertise themselves as holier than Thou

having assured Americans in January that
the looming threat of the plague spreading out of China was totally under control, and told them in February, that the virus would disappear one day like a miracle, Trump tested their credulity in April by suggesting the possibility that disinfectant could be injected to clean out the virus

since it emerged earlier this year, Trump, the White House and his campaign have played down the threat and refused to abide by basic public health guidelines — including those issued by his own administration — such as wearing masks in public and practicing social distancing

instead, Trump has continued to hold campaign rallies that draw thousands of supporters. The virus has killed 200, 000 Americans, most them by virtue of the criminal negligence of the Trump administration

in life, two third of the people actually harvest what they sow
so, is this what the mortality statistics have in mind, that is
body bag #200, 001: the obese and aged Mr. DJT Trump?

can dead people win an election? The prospect of a scumbag as poor as a church mouse to win an election is generally deemed more probable than for a wealthy President as dead as a doornail to win an election, any election

to paraphrase the book of Ecclesiastes
is it not better to be a living dog than a dead lion?

certainly, with the evangelical God of Christians in name only
abundantly blended with fake news, nothing shall be impossible in the manufacturing of geopolitical epiphanies

but...let us not push our luck, freedom fighters
and pray feverishly for his Majesty's speedy recovery
or His miraculous resuscitation from Golghota's grave at the Rose Garden

preferably after losing the 2020 election in a big way
even amidst tremendous acts of God
timing is of the essence


John WorldPeace - I post a poem each morning then go to the news. I immediatey went there after I saw your poem. I expected another event regarding Trump. I have been expecting an undeniable God event related to Trump. I have been attacking Christians that support him for 4 years. This is another God event. I believed the chaos predicted by the Book of Revelation but virtually nothing of that scenario. Now we will see. You wrote a good Political Poem.


Michael Oliver

Old rooster, you silly. Another alarm?
It's just the sun really, a friend to our farm 
Just like yesterday,
all day he will stay
He makes things less chilly and means us no harm



shadow one is tall with father looks
    yet saddened to all as lazy sap creates rust

perk the toot of shadow two
  broken is spirit as malice drags deep to root

the shine of thee blessed is the number three
  smiling with love guided by sight
        of giving covered with fairies delight

vision breaks true when only pain bleeds as living with love
            allows the best sibling to see
69 words © 6 hours ago, rebecca booth      


John WorldPeace - This is really nice. The most striking independent one line poem is "vision breaks true when only pain bleeds"  I always read poems alert to finding such phrases.



Bethany Bradley    

When I was younger
The first things I ever liked to draw
Were dragons.

Dragons were powerful and dangerous, and I loved it

I loved to sketch them on the whiteboard
to my teacher's ire.
Using the black dry erase markers to make a fearsome body
And the red to make the color of its fire.

I liked drawing their fiery breaths
Their long majestic horns
And teeth that promised an untimely death

I wasn't yet good at it, but I did it anyway.

And I liked doodling dragon eyes on sticky notes
Each one I made unique
Each one I poured my heart into
Looking back on those drawings, they were awful and bleak

But I commend them anyway.

Thanks to those shoddy early dragons
And sketchy looking eyes
I practiced and learned to draw.

I worked with my dragons
Building my skill as years went by
I started drawing more things
And added onto my list of delights

I flower here, a cat there, a bunny peaking around the corner
A shadow here, a griffin there, a wendigo on the border

But no matter what I drew
Eventually I'd get tired
And return to what I knew

Today I still enjoy
These epic monsters of imagination
The result of my younger self's
Enjoyment of such creation.

I like to think I've built up my ability
With my drawing ability much better
Doodling little dragons on my notes
And continuing the practice

My love for these creatures
Spawned a artful passion.
That lasts today in all my drawing's features
As my greatest drawing lesson.

John WorldPeace - I also have always loved dragons. There are so many ways they can be shaped and tweaked. Then there is the primary and secondary colors tinted. Birds, flowers, butterflies and fish also have many possible shapes and can be brightly colored. https://johnworldpeaceart.com  I like the secondary message here that if you want to stand out in anything you need to practice. And if in old age you want to own a unique highly developed skill you need to never stop working at it. Art has a very long shadow into the future. Far longer than poetry. Art is not bound up in logical linear language. 50 years of poetry and 60 of art and I am still engaged. I am just beginning to understand what I have been doing all those years. I was going down memory lane as I read your poem. Success is a journey not a destination.



Janet McGlone

The Pen
She stopped writing
Pen wouldn't flow
Didn't want to ride across paper
To scribble
Nothing made any sense
It never did
It was dry
Running on empty
Closed page

John WorldPeace - AlmostI never do I write poetry on a computer.  8 x 10 Yellow pads for the average poems a 6 x 9 spiral white paper notebook when the short poems spill out. Line paper and some times graph paper. I have no discipline on blank paper. Always a fountain pen, not a calligraphy pen that for me digs into the paper, and blue, black or brown ink. There is a feeling, a connection, when writing with these tools. A slowing down. A meditation. I have written 15 poems over the years just about the art of writing poems with these tools; spill out poems and for me line drawings. Writing with these tools is like creating a work of art. You cannot get this with a computer; every letter exactly the same. I write in cursive. I dont print. Cursive flows. The words have curves. When I was young all the adults had really nice handwriting and great grandparents even moreso. But then the ballpoint pens came along in the 50s and cursive went to scribble. Sad that the ballpoint pens killed the art of writing.

You perfectly connected with me through this poem.


this stress
this awful stress
wraps like clingfilm around my skull
whilst reality wanes like the moon
arching her back – a midnight kitten
absorbing the final drops of sunlight



John WorldPeace - Nice poem. I look for inspired one line poems within poems: "Reality wanes like the moon arching her back'" is such a line. It is hard to unstick my mind from this line.



Michael Oliver

This huge mound of trash is quite awesome.
Stale breads, moldy fruits why'd they tossem?
Rancid ooze smelly pies
Rotten eggs,  friendly flies
It's my heaven on Earth. I'm a possum


John WorldPeace - Made me smile to think about human waste that is exquisite to many living things, plants and animals.


Clive Norman

Fly in the astral, but no wings will you have
Swim under mighty oceans, no oxygenated air will you breathe
No wings flapping, to a hefty beating heart
Fly to the moon and back, upon a wing and a prayer
No rocket motors fastened, balancing precariously upon your back
Just thoughtfully concentrated spiritual energy
Everything’s possible, in spiritual form
Open your mind, heart, and soul
Free your spirit, believing the impossible is possible, upon a spirited, wing and a prayer.

John WorldPeace - I have thought about this all my life. The ability to just think myself from place to place in the spiritual dreamscape. And later about the ability to shape shift. And that things we think we imagine are things that always have been in the Infinite Potential of God.

Uplifting and true.


2020  - WHAT A YEAR
Frank Leibold

starting with impeachment
for phone call
after russian collusion hoax
now some proof started hrc

economy was humming
best 50 years
lowest unemployment rates
all demographics

then bang! China virus came
sent it my opinion
stopped all domestic flights
didn't international travel

economy shut down boom
30 million unemployed
fear hospital overcrowding
fortunately not

c.d.c. guidelines imposed
masks, 6' sep, no 10 crowd
operation warp speed initiated
therapeutics and vaccines

i'm in lethal high risk group
age, heart disease
potus comes down with covid
miracle cocktail saves him

today n.y.t. "compliments," potus
maybe a first
election on 11/3/20, most significant
oldest president history

trumps demeanor, bidens faculties
a hobson's choice?
states seeing 2nd wave covi d
all happening simultaneously

what a year!

John WorldPeace - It is a God event in progress that began when Notre Dame burned almost down April 15, 2019, between Palm Sunday and Easter. Then the deadly Coronavirus. Chaos since. Incredibly Trump just ignores the virus as a non-event. He got drugs available to no one else. Only one out of 215,000 worth saving. Coronavirus may never burn out. Stay tuned for the big event Global Warming already long ago launched. A prince of liars and the Garden of Eden burning down. No wonder God stepped in. The world human society will never end a spiritual problem with religious ignorance.

A poetic political narrative. Good.

Lamar Cole

She was in so much emotional pain.
So she took a walk in the rain.
Her love going down drain.



John WorldPeace - This was fun. Made me smile which waked me up. I am not a jingle man but I like this little rhymer.


Ted Alexander

The inkling tickle of inspiration
The knowledge of coming perspiration
Seeing the task unfold
Taking the next step bold
Pushing the job across the line
Looking at it done - all fine


John WorldPeace - Nice take on creativity and uplifting the world while being paid in euphoria large and small. I love poems that remind me that I am doing what I most want to do; creating words, creating paintings, creating creating things.

A Number One

I had thought "The Scouring of the Shire," to be little of what today may transpire
Maybe I am well in my craft
Maybe a victim of my own wrath
"Every generation is one generation away..."
Maybe today i have something greater to say
Today I may have to be taller than George Orwell.
And swim and rise in a raging hell
Maybe the book of poems is greater than i thought
Maybe in the grip of blind ambition i have been caught
Always i was to be the man who wrote
and never be "The Great American Poet."

Bruce Underwood

Sometimes I feel like I’ll be the poet who gets famous after the death

Waleed Brodhurst

John WorldPeace - Success is in the writing not the awards.