Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Bustillos Jun 18
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.
My mother planted ancient seeds,
in garden beds surrounding me.

She hummed a sunny melody,
while placing them so tendlerly.

She showered them in sunlight beams,
& all the things that clouds can dream.

She caught the wind of willow trees,
& sprinkled wisdom from the breeze.

𝗙𝗹𝗼𝘄𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗱 𝘂𝗽𝗼𝗻 𝗺𝘆 𝘀𝗹𝗲𝗲𝘃𝗲𝘀.
A thousand hearts she gave to me.

With mirrors grown upon the leaves,
𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦.


꧁꧂


mica light ▪︎ poetry
I won't forget.
Charles Apr 18
tending to our garden
planting peonies and orchids
solemnly growing so florid

from generation to generation
our kids can frolic and play
symbolic of our love's stay
ap0calyps3 Apr 8
You and I were like a garden and a war,
we both fell in love, which left our hearts quite sore
prettiest flowers now covered in blood, the bright skies cloaked with gloom
I'm afraid my little flowers would never bloom.
Next page