On October 25, 2006, the name of this site was changed, but not the URL, which continued to show only the first portion of the name. The former name was "Poetry From John Keating, Twenty-First Century Nature Poet.

Based on John Keating's "Verses From Moose Hill." Brought to the Internet by Eve Adam, a.k.a. Harmonic Eve.

Harmonic Eve's Comments      Recently I became acquainted with a young man who enjoys making plants grow.  He published a small book of his poems in September 2003.  Here is his introduction to his collection of poems, "Verses From Moose Hill."  Following his introduction,  you will find a few of my favorites from this collection, re-published here with his permission.  Eve Adam, a.k.a. Harmonic Eve (December 2004).

Introduction by John Keating, Twenty-First Century Poet John says: These are the poems I've written over years working for and in close contact with Moose Hill Orchards.  They represent a part of my life I celebrate, draw strength from, and constantly find myself learning from.  These are glimpses into an ancient art form, glances into the sweat and rhythm of seasons of labor in the orchards and fields.  It is here, deep in this setting of hard earned checks and satisfied muscles that I first came to poetry and farm work, green and struck with wonder.      It takes a strange breed to do farm work these days, to invest so much time and resources with so uncertain a yield in return.  It must take a certain measure of madness to embrace this life, to set oneself constantly at odds with the elements, wrestling with the earth to produce a crop.  Yet how seductive is the urge to have a hand in helping things grow, to be a contributor in the cycle of sowing and reaping.  There are many noble pursuits in life, ways to earn a paycheck one can feel good about.  Yet working in the service of apples and pumpkins has shaped my identity and poetry in ways that no other work place could have matched.  I've been shaped and given direction by this place over the years just as I have pruned and thinned apple trees to help them bear their crops.  In all seasons I have come home from the orchards to my place on Moose Hill. I've lived in the apple picker's quarters awaiting the return of my brethren.  I've come home covered in sweat and dirt and snow, solid in my knowledge that my day's efforts have made a difference in at least one tiny branch of the world.

My hope for this post millennium world is that we remember that even on the brink of ever blooming new technologies, the most ancient art of humankind is found in working for and with the land.  Thus the life of the farm is the subject of my first book of verse, in celebration and gratitude to those who give, have given, their lives to helping things grow.  Noble spirits of furious beauty, I salute you one and all!  John Keating (September 2003).

Reading Poetry for Meaning Eve says: I find it sad when someone can not hear the beauty of a poem because the scene is not understood.  The first poem in this site and the longer one following it are both about thinning apple trees.  Apple trees were a major part of my own childhood. Perhaps my paraphrase of John's experience will set the scene.  These are my words, not John's. (Eve, in hopes that you will not turn away.)

Setting the Scene: Eve's words speaking as John  While I was thinning the apple trees, I noticed that my arms and hands were going at it fast and furiously.  I thought I'd see how fast they would go and how efficient I could be. I was feeling free that summer at the farm.  I removed the small, damaged, and bruised fruit so that the remaining fruit could thrive.  It seemed like a song was being created by the sound of the rejected apples when they fell on the soft ground.  That summer I continued climbing the ladder to the tops of the apple trees.  I was going up and down the ladder with a speed and efficiency that made it seem it was time itself I was chasing.   Harmonic Eve, setting the scene as John, the poet, lived it.

Here's the house on the small farm in Maryland where Harmonic Eve first learned about apple trees.

Every day between the time I was about eight years old and when I left for college, I practiced the piano in the downstairs room with the fireplace. Once the practicing was done well enough to suit my grandmother Bebe, I was allowed to go outside and play. In the apple orchard, the northeast corner of our twenty-five acres, I spent many hours climbing the apple trees. The attic of this house often smelled like apples. The harvest of apples would be stored in that part of the house when the attic rooms were not being used as extra bedrooms. Eve Adam, a.k.a. Harmonic Eve, remembering my days when I was called "Sunshine." October 26, 2006

John's apple tree experiences were in New Hampshire; Eve climbed apple trees as a child in Maryland.

Read the two versions of the short poem about thinning apple trees on the next page. (These two versions differ only in spacing and capitalization.) Then click to the following page and read the longer poem on the same subject. The two poems complement each other, making meaning clearer, allowing the reader to enjoy the word pictures.

Click "next page" at the bottom right to see John's poetry, or click the link below to see the last page of this site. (Links to my other non-commercial, family-friendly sites are on the last page.)

John's poetry is brought to you by Eve Adam, a.k.a. Harmonic Eve.

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