Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
gracie Jun 2020
You never knew the garden
I grew from within
or the ripe honeysuckles
intertwined with my ribs
you never pressed your mouth
to my pink primrose lips
or felt your hands laced
between my fern fingertips
you never saw the buttercups
brim behind my eyes
or the soft blue forget-me-nots
speckling my thighs
you never heard my voice
not a laugh, not a word
so don’t tell me I’m missing
what you found in her.
Julia Apr 2020
She was a crepe myrtle,
ancient and creaking in the wind
whom I loved very much,
and whom I indulged myself
to believe reciprocated my attachment.
An alien species,
she found herself an obliging home
years before I came along
to lodge in the building
whose occupancy expected that one mow
the backyard in which she blossomed.
And there she blossoms still,
within view of the kitchen window.
And tells me in the sweetest sways her memoirs most sorrowful.
Julia Mar 2020
Assume the role of groundskeeper
entirely and entitledly. This is
your destiny: as a human
being your role is to care for
every plant, animal, and
fungus as your kin, for they
are the material that breeds us.
Permaculture is a simple tale:
Listen, and you will be told;
Ask, and you will be answered;
Play and you will be happy :)
Your propagations, transplants,
and seeds will grow,
flower, and reseed...
written Oct. 2, 2018
Àŧùl Jul 2019
Come, Jenny, let us turn gardeners for life
And let us cultivate love in our garden,
Full & supple and steaming & pure.

Let us shatter the shackles of belief,
Hearts thump aloud if you will listen,
Come, Jenny, come let us unite as one...

Come, Jenny, hold this watering cannister,
Come help my hand already holding it,
It is very light that you would hold...

Filled with love for our kind of horticulture,
We hold it happily as our love will not end,
Yes, the one I just named Heart-i-Culture.

This will give us more happiness and love,
We shall be together through every trough,
Now our chaste love will blossom & bloom.
My HP Poem #1755
©Atul Kaushal
Light House Dec 2017
The petals fell one by one,
till there were nearly none.
The petals fell one by one,
till there was just but one.

&, then that bonsai grew & bloomed once more.
&, in those moments --for at least those moments--
that bonsai proved me wrong.

That bonsai...  That little ...underdog:
Finite proof that for every juggernaut,
there is
an opposing
Next page