You have
without knowing
reached inside
and
touched my soul
awakening it
with urgent
pulsing
like an electrical
surge

I yearn to
connect
with you
completing
the circuit

My soul seeks
yours
for a rendezvous

to mingle
in an ethereal
embrace

to share
a repast
in the soft candlelight
of awareness
and
the sweet scent
of the roses
of incorporeal
passion

filling plates
with
the words
and
cadence

wine glasses
with
the music

of poetry


You speak
the language
of my soul

whose words are
garden
          flowers
                     unfolding
                               pathways

sojourn
                   reflection
                              struggles
              ­                             life

whose syntax
is poetry
and
song

You
more than most
have taught me
to heed
and
understand
the language

to recognize
the melody

and

to dance

its rhythm
This was written some years ago upon discovering a wonderful poet, one of my favorites, Stanley Kunitz, who was also an avid gardener. I think he was in his 90's at the time. I heard him reading a poem on NPR and I was "smitten".  I bought several of his books of poetry. The one I love best has a lot of pictures of him in his late years still working in his garden.  He died in 2006, just two months short of his 101st birthday.  He's a beautiful soul. You can see it in his face, in his garden and in his poetry!
there is a garden in my chest.
lilies next to arteries.
roses next to pulsing veins.

flowers grow in between
everything that keeps me living.

sometimes these flowers get in the way.
they wrap around my organs and
reside in the places i once loved for being empty.

sometimes even the most beautiful of things can be all too
overwhelming.

sometimes you can get sick of the things you're supposed to loved.
love: better in quantity
japheth 6d
like the plants

in my garden:

i breathe,

i live,

i exist.

i let the people who

pass by

admire me.

i grow slowly.

i climb quietly.

wait for me to bloom.
i bought a small succulent today, a zebra plant.

i called it debra dimagiba.

the word “dimagiba” is actually two words in filipino - “di magiba” which in english means, it can’t be broken down.
Hollau Apr 15
I was a blooming daisy  
and you were the weed I stumbled upon
your roots strangled me as I tried to grow
they teased me and tested me
but your words became a daily comfort
so I stood tall and reached towards the sun
that neither of us thought I could reach
because I wanted to prove to you
that I could stand on my own

my heart broke when you were torn away from me
without you, I could invest in my own growth  
but I still longed for your company
you were the only one who ever challenged me
to be more than I could have been before

we both knew it was for the best,
but I will never stop missing you
and hoping someday you will return to my garden
to poison me again
so I can blossom into who I am meant to become
Amy Apr 15
The garden

Flowers are growing in the mud of my soul
The aches turned to pleasures
The bruises turned to birds
Path once overgrown
Now pruned
The dust and debris
Swept away
By a lost sweeping brush
Forgotten in the corner
Until you shone your light
And the tools
Were found again
Alexias Apr 9
Dawning from a breath
A wave passes
Among the sea of flowers
Silently seeking a horizon

The sunlight they once were
Turns to cold snowflakes
Soft memories
Blown off, turned to a blizzard

Their soft lips move to the rhythm of the air
Begging for a glimpse, a lust,
A touch, just to stain them with red
From the spikes hiding underneath

The wind, leading the orchestra
Let the chaos turn into a song
Of happiness, of loneliness
That echoes through the everlasting

Garden of sinners
Please tell me what you think about it!
Steve Page Apr 8
praying to dad, kneeling in the cool of the day, feeling cursed as an olive tree, lost in the red-deep shadows of inevitable choice, looking through tears, years in the making, staring into the stillness of a longest goodnight, with a dry kiss goodbye, facing an undeniable betrayal, secure in the blooded palm of God's hand, in agony
Still caught up with Easter.
----

Naked from my mother's womb I came
not a sin to my name, so insignificant
Naked from my father's bones I came
Little Eve was born an innocent


Adam walked around like he was the first man on Earth
He called himself the image of God, tried to diminish my worth
You tried to tempt me as a snake but now I'm on alert
No matter what you say you're still made from the dirt

Welcome to the Garden of Eden!
We tried as hard as possible
It's still filled with heathens


Adam, Lilith, Eve
Won't be long now till we leave
Geez, this was meant to be longer. Sorry! ^^''
Aa Harvey Apr 8
My garden


Bright white lights, shine in the night;
Lighting up the blackened sky.
A single pool in the calmness of space;
Some stories say he has a face.
His moonlight shines upon us
And lights up all my man made grace.


The flowers I planted beneath the old oak tree,
Have no need of false light, to be seen.
For nature has no need to be nurtured;
It's a natural beauty that has already been created
And cannot be improved, for it has already been perfected.
Its genealogy has no need to be altered.


It's strange to see the pool in the sky,
Shining upon the pond I bought to life.
To see the fish swim in their world,
Not knowing of the land they will never walk upon.
The birds on the fence, the fish may never see;
May one day take their life and end their forgotten dreams.


(C)2013 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
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