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Saige Mar 20
I snuck out of bed,
grabbed some glass pebbles,
a jar, and scissors.

And cut the crown
off my panda-plant

A little clipping
sits on my desk
waiting for water
and happiness
I love small things. Especially small plants. 🌱
I feel like a stranger
In my home,
In my body;
Invisible and wearing
A sheet over my head.

Unheard by all
Worldly ears,
I’m sure the universe
Turns a blind eye
To my prayers.

I like to relate
Myself to bamboo;
Hollow but strong-
Willed. Lanky and
Filled with watery wisdom.

But quiet,
Oh so quiet.
A deadly weapon
And a shield
Against unlistening ears.
Darryl M May 2019
There’s a part of you that senses that I love you.
There’s a part of me that approves.

You’re out of my reach,
But I still stretch.
Tryna grab your hand,
Folded it comes.

A foetus in the womb, my love for you.
Pregnancy pains, my heart for you.
A healthy newborn, our unity.

I don’t know what forever means,
But with you I’m about to find out.
Where do I limit my love,
If the skies fall in worship unto you?

You grew into me like a Chinese Bamboo tree on fertile soil.
Badshah Khan Mar 2019
Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust) - 72

BismillahIr RahmanIr Raheem

Like a bamboo flute his dear life'
Noble birth of woodwind family.

Which naturally generates;
An acoustics stream of sacred music!

Allah Khair..... Khairul Rabul Alameen Yah Arrahmanur Yah Raheem

Ummah Thurab - Badshah Khan.
©UT-BK 2019
Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust)
Girard Tournesol Nov 2018
The bamboo forest favors impermanence
Flower petals, thunder, snow flakes
So let the time traveling tourist tell us
We will have something to say about this, later
National Sucide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255. May you walk each step in the garden of resurrection.
Josh Aug 2018
Bamboo spine
bones and all,
stand tall

Soak up the
sour & the sweet

Remove yourself from
soil so dry

Plant your body
& your soul
in self-loving hands

Sway with the wind
but remember to
create your own someday

Nurture your warmth
don't let it die  

You are free to grow
in this landscape.

Remind your mind's eye.
This is your time.
With bamboo husks scattered,
My last bones shattered.
We mourn a loss of bliss,
Draped in fear learnt to dismiss,
I call for all to gather.

The stalks once in my heart,
Intertwined; and broke apart.
I never knew how weak I'd gotten,
As my glacial mind defrosted,
And from within; resilience departed.

My thoughts cannot grow,
Pierced by what I do not know.
I'm getting colder,
I am not a soldier,
I'm a victim to the blow.

As the last bit of me was hollowed out,
I spoke the words of hope through my mouth:
"I will learn to accept the pain,
Rather than soaking it in my veins,
I'll filter it to the ground."
I've been looking up what things symbolize feelings, and I've been so excited to write with them.
Apparently, (as far as I've read) bamboo is a symbol of strength in China. I just feel like weakness is such a common emotion, and it takes so much to grow out of.
I hope this isn't confusing.
All feedback is welcome and appreciated!!:):)
Mustapha Olokun Jul 2018
as they believe,
the king is high.
they were taught,
never knew his presence.

believing this,
believing that.
when the staff tap,
the petals bow.

thrown by elegance.
a precious woman
that flicks her garments,
by the first request.

the king's reputation,
is an interesting concept.
leave it for the maids
within the castle to assess.

should they say,
he is a king.
should they say,
he is not.

in the moment,
the throne is untouched.
tampered with by destiny,
left by ritual.

But likewise,
you heard of the funk,
the root, the black,
the smooth bamboo.

you heard good.
future chills,
down the spine line,
at sounds will .

feel the rush
and trust the detail.
cause like the maids . . .

they may say,
he is good,
they may say,
he is not .

yet the bamboo
sets stature,
hard like rock,
and useful right after.

they attempt
breaks and cuts for reduction,
but only form singing flutes
as the winds set their production.
a metaphor . . .
Mustapha Olokun Jul 2018
For now,
the call aching.
small sips in the womb
in advancement.

the earth hardens,
hidden hands
refusing to pay,
open hands wasting.

all must end.
the devil's polishing,
the lazy heart,
silk to the narrow punks.

millions are wasted,
to ones which don't understand.
so I bundle in the pocket,
showing nothing in the hand.

take your green,
flourish young king.
I sing the bridges meet,
and unto it I tread upon.

leave your message.
there forms an epic,
an incredible excel,
in the life ahead.

your mark of curse,
crosses not even the pond,
as I pray to the day,
I cross the sea.
Lord, raise a son to success.
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