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A country with monarchy
Means you are no citizen,
Merely but a subject.
This fact you may try to reject,
Saying this & that
About statues & such
What limit royalties' powers.
Yet, I protest;
The influence granted
Over every facet of society
Is not something which can be limited
Through official legal means,
And rarely otherwise.
Things which pass through inheritance,
Things which pass through all types of channels,
Assets physical & otherwise -
Attributes rightly & not rightly earned.
And in weaker times
Or moments of crisis,
How easily any power limited
Can swiftly be regained.
And holding a royal position,
How easily these may be manufactured -
Crash, clash, ****:
By economics, by warfare, by afflictions.
Sometimes it's doing everything,
Sometimes it means not doing anything.
Orders are different,
As by the Order(s) who has given.

Where, when, checks & balances become insufficient.

In democracy proper,
We are free.
We are the people
Whom celebrate liberty.
Yet, our freedom
Is always at stake.
For in the same merit,
One has the liberty to take
Where & when that society is not properly regulated
Or is otherwise protected & guarded.
Where likewise the law is no meadow,
In the democratic
We must all tend to the garden -
Lest all be overgrown & lost,
As El Dorado.
One tale ends
Where another's tail begins.
In that,
It's sink with ¹Atlantis
Or learn to swim.
Only give up the ******* ways of superstition
Or be prepared for to be nothing.

Where, when, checks & balances are insufficient.
1 - Plato's Republic
Olive 4d
Say, that you don't need
just sunlight and water because
you're more than a sunflower.
Olive—
I have invested too much effort in rebuilding my sanctuary to let fools throw stones at it or to allow them to break its windows.
I am unafraid to walk my path alone.
What I fear is letting the wrong individuals into my garden.
The mere presence and toxic energy of some people can uproot what has taken years to cultivate.
I will tend to my garden and watch my soul thrive.
I will take back my voice.
After all, this is my life.

-Rhia Clay
GARDEN OF THE HEART

I am the Garden
In me all things live
In me nothing is forgotten
Here we enter
After being done with the Serpent
Flamed or in darkness
When the Cross enters from below
We die, never to be reborn

Over naked ******* and belly
Shadows dissolve in milk and manna
Transmuted to rainbows of gold
In the body of the Magdalena
Droplets dance fiery ice
Where Power is gained through
Entry into the Garden of the Heart
Another way then becomes the forgotten

Nothing more entices, no fleshly desire lingers
Wisdom is my key to the
Gate of Chrysanthemum Purity
Where Patience is enthroned at the
Fulcrum of two spheres
After we’ve climbed ladders of courage
Listened to mournful entreaties, tolling gongs
Shook hands with Keepers of Freedom

Our giving becomes our taking
Separation, the Union
The going, a Returning
Returning, our resting where the
Centre of Silvery Strands is Stillness
Born of angels and white doves
As Truth cloaks, after paying
In sweat and tight purple silences

Few know how the Garden imbues
Or how minds of politic dissolved or
What a tiny imprint is hidden in the
Palm of Goddess-God where the
Palm of Blood and Thorns
Washed us from the shores of
Ancient Khoisan lands into the
Moistness of Infinity’s filigree

©GhairoDanielsPoetry&
Song
monue Jul 7
I built a garden in my chest
with things you never said—
planted hopes in rows of maybes,
where your silence softly spread.

I watered it with almosts,
trimmed the silence like vines,
taught the leaves to chase the light
you never said was mine.

But nothing real grew—
just a heart dressed up as soil,
soft enough to cradle you,
but never meant to spoil.

You were the seed that never stayed,
the wind that kissed, then flew.
And I — the ground where you once rested,
but never rooted you.
prolly the last for today 🤍
In my summer, in my garden,
a wild garden deep inside,
inside of me, and in my home.
Among the green leaves,
my secret solace.
Between the city and me,
lies my intimate secret,
an oasis of cool.
Between four walls,
a slice of paradise.
Among my dreams,
dreams of the soul,
among my days.
There is a moment,
in that inner oasis,
that is pure happiness.
A garden just for me,
where no strangers tread.
Where everything is perfect,
at times I touch my heavens.
Among lilacs and trees,
roses, flowers always,
where life springs forth.
Among songs of life,
among greedy sparrows,
a bit of wilderness in the chaos.
In the great metropolis, flowers,
always green, in any season,
my small corner, exuberant.
A corner of life to revive me,
a garden no one sees, within me,
a garden that's in my patio,
a secret city nook.
Among my beautiful gardens I live.

---
En mi verano, en mi jardín,

jardín selvático dentro,

dentro de mí, y en casa.

Entre las verdes hojas,

mi secreto sosiego.

Entre la ciudad y yo,

hay mi secreto íntimo,

un oasis de frescor.

Entre cuatro muros,

un trozo de paraíso.

Entre mis sueños,

sueños del alma,

entre mis días.

Hay un momento,

en ese oasis interior,

que es pura felicidad.

Un jardín solo para mí,

donde no hay extraños.

Donde todo es perfecto,

a ratos toco mis cielos.

Entre lilos y árboles,

rosas, flores siempre,

donde brota la vida.

Entre cantos de vida,

entre gorriones golosos,

un poco de selva en el caos.

En la gran metrópolis, flores,

en cualquier época es verde,

exuberante mi pequeño rincón.

Un rincón de vida para revivirme,

un jardín que nadie ve, en mí,

un jardín que está en mi patio,

un rincón secreto de la ciudad.

Entre mis bellos jardines vivo.


---

18-6-2025
We pray in the garden,
For peace to take the ache away.
We pray in the garden,
For the light of God,
To guide us to better days.
We pray in the garden,
Guardian sanctum of our hope.
Maria May 22
I dreamt of our house, which doesn't exist...
I'll light a candle in it and greet the dawn.
I'll feel sad by candlelight. I'll be missed.
I want you'll be near me in our house for long!

I'll walk into the garden, which doesn't exist...
I'll pick white camomiles and make a bunch.
I'll put it on the table. It'll be my feast.
Just fly into my dream! I please you much!

We'll stroll in a forest, which doesn't exist...
I'll mass there an armfull of autumn leaves.
I'll throw them into the sky. They'll be a mist.
And they'll be falling slowly under the breeze.

I dreamt of our house.  And maybe is it?
It's somewhere over the hill, green all.
The garden is so very overgrown. I'll revive it.
I'll light the candle for you to come for all.
I love my dreams. Sometimes I even want to go back to my dreams. Sometimes I do. The magic of the night, the magic of dream, the possibility to dream, to be sad, to suffer without barriers and taboos...
Thank you very much for reading this poem! 💖
Lizzie Bevis May 14
Your mind is a waiting garden,
and life will give us seeds,
you can sow beautiful flowers
or you can nurture stubborn weeds.

The choice is yours,
to make in a thoughtful wake,
to tend to the delicate blossoms
or let the brambles overtake.

Water the garden with pride,
with thoughts pure and bright,
tear down any climbing doubts
and give way to the sunlight.

For what you will harvest
depends on what you sow,
your garden will flourish
and wisdom will grow.

So nurture each lesson,
and watch the petals unfurl,
in your garden of growth,
with the beauty of your soul.

©️Lizzie Bevis
Inspired by a wonderful mindfulness quote,
I was unfortunately unable to find the original author to give credit, but here it is in its inspiring glory:

Your mind is a garden.
Your thoughts are the seeds.
You can grow flowers
or you can grow weeds.
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