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Man Nov 3
Each emination,
Hot as an inferno.
The breath I let escape
Burns before it boils,
Serpent, tongue coil.
The way you worked me;
Nailed the coffin, spread the soil.
Nat Lipstadt Jul 2
~for my dear, dear friend, T.R.
who tills the soil of Jordan’s Garden,
from which life springs eternal


see your words, sent direct to my ears and all our mutuality of senses,
fingertips tasting the soil, the moisture, the granularity,
the chemical composition and the color, always the colors…

our gardens are our children, each similar but always,
unique, altogether different, altogether similar

how I love the how-work of it;  how the soil, you, suckle each other
with nutrients of tears, Georgia heat, outcomes of
the summer produce(s),
a refresher course of memories, of frustrated endlessness

we see heaven only by looking down, you, me, on our hand and knee,
touching each plant by hand as if soft stroking a cheek of our children

in some spots, the ground unyielding, keeping its riches
stored for another day, only then, when it wills, offer up
its specialty - a surprise, a wind-blown in, seed sprouting

it so many different ways, the work gets harder, and yet,
more tender, more desirable and we do not wonder on it

for this the way, of planting, and planning human desires,
tempered by elements over which we relinquish a
sense of control, yet forever knowing, happily, renewal~marked by

the forever and ever on seasonality
of a rebirthing garden
that sustains

neth jones Oct 2022
plough tills the plot
overturns one season
for one of greater potential profit
Ren Sturgis May 2022
I create with Earth,
my pliant hands in her soil.
Seeds of life we sow <3
LC Apr 2022
flames raze the forest,
bringing it to its knees.
ashes line the ground,
fertilizing the charred soil.
the clouds mourn for the forest,
blessing the ground with its tears.
seeds of all sizes land,
and the sun wakes up to greet them.
a garden rises from the ashes.
Escapril Day 17!
Prompt: garden.
I have been thinking about resilience and bouncing back lately, and the result was this poem. Happy Easter to everyone celebrating, and I hope you are all doing well 💗
Skin on soil - I sink
My lungs a network of roots,
I breathe with the leaves.
One with nature
Elizabethanne Sep 2021
I have dirt between my teeth
Between my bed sheets
It falls out of my hair every time I move
It’s beneath my fingernails
no amount of scrubbing will make them clean
& I’m always knee deep
in the graves of all the people I have loved
I keep digging them up
Every time I fall asleep
since I’m sure I've made a mistake
Only to bury them a little deeper
When I don’t like what they have to say
Dave Robertson Aug 2021
As a perennial here
I’ve grown and died
with reasonably quiet roots
learnt colloquial voices
that let me pass in these beds

But frothing coasts,
shattered hand held heights,
cool plains of forever
and cobbled nooks
magnetise more with life

So bring me the horizon,
you wild world
and release me of my soil
so I can continue
Dave Robertson Aug 2021
I drove a raised road
which gave a view of fields
much different to home
though mere miles away
vast, dark-rich soil potential
where words couldn’t fail to grow
but in a syntax not my own

There, the syllables of rushes stood clear
arrogant, apparent
with no lost edges or liminal blur
where I would speak my words

Heading back, a driveway sign said:
and now, at home
I’m lost to what that means
Amanda Kay Burke Jun 2021
I was buried
A shallow grave

So deeply embedded in dirt no one could see me

Yet right below surface
Fell out of love and directly into the hole

The other option was hang on to the limb I inhabited in a state of vulnerable agility

So I ended effort and surrendered to the freshly dug soil waiting beneath our chance at love
RIP our love
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