The Boers knew the ire that the fire felt
as it moved svelte like a snake through the veldt.
Nothing concerned had been left unturned
as the baas grasslands burned and burned
and burned.

'veldt' is the elevated open grassland in South Africa
'baas' is South African slang for boss
'Boer' is literally "farmer" in Afrikaans. Afrikaners use it with much pride, indicating a person with a deep love of the soil of Africa, a provider of food. boere (the plural form) can also refer to the police. "Boer" does not only rever to an Afrikaans farmer, but also to a proudly Afrikaans person, whether he farms for a living or not.

South Africa
Dec 2, 2013

we promised each
other a




so we mowed
the dirt


Jim Kleinhenz
Feb 27, 2012

The way the world sways. Every leaf left
in place, its stance chiseled to each blade,
an iteration of time; each tassel of seeds,
thy bread, thy handmaiden;
as breath on the brink of disappearance,
becomes a wave become water; proportions so
large so as to stagger the seasons—
one winter questioning another.

We listen. We listen as if musical crabs are tracing a
giant sine wave across the dark mud flats.
We watch it as if a rotted rowboat, its oars like two hands
at prayer, is signaling a gesture
of permanence towards the sky. The grass
has turned from gray to blue to green.
The tide washes in. A bell is rung.
It’s as if the merry-go-round has turned it’s calliope on.
What Lao-tse has said is true.
The earth is a bellows. Use it.
The grasslands bellow and glow.

©Jim Kleinhenz

Apr 15, 2014

A grass land was there,
Birds use to dance around,
Their song echoed around,
Snake use to wonder around!
A grass land was there,
Porcupine, Rabbits, Pangolin........
Tidy around!
A grass land was there,
Raindrop meanders around!
Now only building and terraces are here!
Car and two wheeler running around!
Noise of human voice and machine thunderous around!
People use to say, everything is developing... in and around!

Still I am searching around
The elegant
Birds, their song,
The gorgeous
Snake, their beautiful scroll,
The Splendid raindrop on grass!
Still I am belligerent,  
Powerless to remove my childhood memories!
Still searching..........
The grass land....

In the town where I was brought up, a grass land was there, that was our wonder land, now everything replaced by human settlement
#poem   #memories   #lost   #of   #snake   #wonder   #song   #birds   #childhood   #bird   #land   #grassland   #scroll   #meandering   #raindrop  

Rainy days return with silver light the smell of fresh earth and buds dancing on the wavy breeze .a sight to hold for a attribute is more bountiful for what I see in thee

Paolo Jerome Cristobal
Paolo Jerome Cristobal
Oct 29, 2014      Oct 30, 2014

Clouds overcast;
Light of sun
Seep out.
Atop this hill, us
Below a height
Of canopy-sky.

Thought dreamt.
It drank long
And deep
in sleep.

Sun folds
into a blanket
Of glaring eyes.
As if the stars seemed
To question me:

"Where have you been
In this long dream?"

Always, we have been here
Watching trees grow,
Letting summers pass,
As if waiting
For something.

The folded grass
Reminds us
Of familiarity.

Salt, grass, mud,
Water, earth, air.

The wind
whispers these things
With a steady hand,
Brushing the grasslands
With water. Gently
Leaving its fingerprints
In us.

The shallow pond;
The way it mirrors the sky
Kept us pondering.
Perhaps the sky meant for us
To be more than just lions.
I look into it sometimes to think
how I was unable to see
the stars that night
we drank from it.

Maybe, i'm just not thirsty.

Outside our hill,
the winds
from the White Mountains still blow,
Singing their last verses.
I am starting to forget
the thought of us
being more
than just mere lions.

(Paolo Jerome D. Cristobal - 01/11/14)

Version three. The second one seemed rough. But i'm finally happy with this one. I was able to convey the message i wanted. Kept me smiling the rest of the day.
#love   #pain   #past   #longing   #loneliness  

The grass is always greener on the other side of the hill ~

that's because my lawn is on a south-facing slope of the hill and more more open to sunlight and warm winds. It's dryer due to higher levels of evapotranspiration than my neighbor's greener north-facing slope.
I'm not the least bit envious of the color of his greener grass.
I'm just pissed he owns a better piece of real estate.

#want   #rain   #real   #plot   #green   #garden   #on   #for   #have   #dry   #grass   #envy   #turn   #ground   #eye   #lawn   #crave   #meadow   #choose   #hill   #trending   #territory   #yearn   #mead   #grassland   #slope   #lew   #patch   #thirst   #beryldov   #aspire   #fancy   #range   #estate   #vineyard   #spoil   #tract   #covet   #begrudge   #desiderate   #hanker   #hots   #itch-for   #long-for   #lust-after   #yen-for   #pasture   #acreage   #cropland   #enclosure   #farmland   #glebe   #lea   #moorland   #ranchland   #terrain   #tillage  
in that foraging phase on the grassland
Nov 14, 2012

the intricate cerebral architecture
and arboreal locomotion

our remote ancestors canopy living
primates with an advanced repertoire

descending from the canopy
and into the grasslands  

into the electronic global village
thinking, striving, breathing

in that foraging phase on the grassland
we caught a scent on the air

look where we are now.

Poetry is finer and more philosophical than history; for poetry expresses the universal, and history only the particular. - Aristotle
Mar 21, 2014

Walking on the wet September grasslands
Waiting for you as I smile to myself
The hours they swim through the rough shore of time
Ignoring the weather, welcoming the cold
My feet kicking off those tiny stones
They do not know where they belong
My head faced down, eyes staring at the ground
Oh, what an unusual treat
of curious mystery pumping through my veins
This silence, one may call it absurd
But right now, it's the tune to my song
The clock strikes twelve and yet
You are to be seen no where around
Is there ever going to be a limit to my madness?
I know the truth
I shan't be seeing you anymore
So, I walk my way back
Back the wet September grasslands
Smiling to myself
All the way home.

Garrett Glenn
Feb 8, 2010

In lucid dreams is where our passion can run free. Painting epic love poems across ancient cave walls, weaving eternal knots of oak and elm, and dancing through moonlite grasslands with fairies and flowers as our only compainions.

Just a little blip that came together during a stink I had in Montana.
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