#cycleoflife
Fireflies dance beneath the moonlit sky
Their firey tails blazing thousands of suns
Flashing in harmonious rhythm
To a song known only to spirits of the forest
Where trees root themselves to a verdelant chorus
Swaying in soft waltz as the wind caresses green boughs
Groaning under the weight of the starry firmament
<A reflection from above to what is below>
An infinity of dazzling diamonds winking in starlight
Tune themselves to the melody of distant earth
Where moon bathes the world in grey washed relief
Illuminating the new born fawn that prances in sync
To his mother's cautious attention
Her eyes reflecting love in full as Luna guards her young
Beneath the light of midnight
Behind her, a chirping symphony of raucous crickets
Reached a vibrating crescendo which echoes across the land
A ringing accompaniment to the bass dravel of the wayward toad
Whose thump, thumping excites the prowling fox
To pounce about in a furry pirouette in an attempt to seize the treble
Of the screeching barn owl that cuts through the night
Spinning in a controlled dive bomb of deadly talons
Searching for their late night victim whose screams
Provide the lyrical movement to which nature plays master
To the goings on of life, beyond the light of the day
In the distance, a lone whippoorwill cries in anguish
As the sun rises and dawn brings an end to his song
Whip
Whip
Whippoorwill
Apr 28
Apr 28, 2026 at 1:46 PM UTC
A Traditional Linked 12 Verse Haiku
The Beginning
SPRING SEED
Spring rain on dark soil—
a quiet seed waking slow
beneath morning light.
FIRST GREEN
Soft wind through the field,
a pale shoot lifts from the earth—
larks circle above.
ROOT AND RAIN
Roots drinking the rain,
earth loosens its gentle hold—
warm clouds drifting past.
YOUTHFUL STEM
Young stems sway lightly,
storm winds bow them for a while—
still they face the sun.
EARLY SUMMER
Bright meadow at noon,
new leaves turning toward the light—
bees wander the air.
FULL BLOOM
Petals opening,
golden dust upon their hearts—
summer humming loud.
SEEDS BEGIN
Late afternoon breeze,
birds settle among tall stems—
fields whisper softly.
SEEDS DEPART
Small seeds ride the wind,
crossing hedges and open sky—
future drifting wide.
AUTUMN FIELD
Cool mist on the ground,
fading petals touch the soil—
geese call overhead.
FALLING QUIET
Empty meadow paths,
dry leaves gather by the gate—
dusk deepens the lane.
WINTER REST
Bare branches in frost,
silent earth holding its breath—
long night over fields.
HIDDEN SPRING
Under frozen ground,
a sleeping seed warms slowly—
spring waiting to rise.
The End
By Paul Baldry (LongJohn)
Mar 5
Mar 5, 2026 at 3:54 AM UTC
Birds
sing
sweet
melodies,
their
songs
carried
on
the
wind,
nature's
chorus
line.
Feb 22
Feb 22, 2026 at 12:41 PM UTC
Stand
Sit,
Slouch
Fall.
Stand
Fall
And
Sleep
All
Feel
Touch
&
Stand
Tall,
Skipped
Sit
To
Eat
All.
Breathe
Deep
To
Watch
Walls
Stand
Climb
Stairs
Then,
Sit
Sleep
Feel
Stare
Skyfalls.
So
Just,
Stand
Sit
Eat
Sleep-
and fall.
May 19, 2025
May 19, 2025 at 12:05 AM UTC
Why does a lamp burn, only to fade?
Why does a flower bloom, only to wither?
Why does every life tell a story,
Yet every end births a new beginning?
Will this cycle ever cease?
Or will the soul forever wander?
Is there someone writing this fate,
Or is it just a grand illusion we ponder?
Feb 27, 2025
Feb 27, 2025 at 7:35 AM UTC
squandered away what starts a man’s life:
dime
wine
time
if only for a better cause
is there anything to lose
really?
looking back at what ends a man’s life:
time
wine
dime
it gets better and better
till there is nothing else left to matter
it’s true.
Feb 24, 2025
Feb 24, 2025 at 1:02 PM UTC
The cycle of life;
The journeys we traverse,
etched in our bodies:
tattoos of the well-lived
loved and even loathed.
That’s a full life, isn’t it?
Leaving traces of our existence.
Sep 10, 2024
Sep 10, 2024 at 3:36 PM UTC
Há anos nasci
Porém pouco vivi
Vidas criei
Nenhum retorno ganhei
Na sombra de minhas cinzas deixei que vivessem
Suas vidas medíocres
E sem sentido que os dei
Jul 23, 2024
Jul 23, 2024 at 11:42 PM UTC
you're in the final rest
before the ground swallows you back
whole, in pieces
stacked on top of yourself,
you,
a huddle as dense as your bones are hollow
a refuge for bugs that fear the light
a lesson for curious hands
weeds inter-stitch between the tiny gaps that you allow
they may be the last life you care to pierce your skin
and the next life that proudly takes over
you,
you cannot give without also being taken
your final rest, so sure and surely uncertain
it is yours, before the bugs come to feast for the last time
yours, before the curious hands set you ablaze
to help them see better at night
it is yours,
as it is a space that you occupy
May 16, 2021
May 16, 2021 at 6:49 PM UTC
winter’s chilled stillness,
atoms in ice bundling tightly together
senesced trees, rotted flowers
songless birds, misted sunlight
crushed leaf step, a coat tightened
memories or dreams
What is the difference to me
light or illusion
it all seems the same to me
lie in the shade,
count gray clouds and decayed petals
page turn page turn
the pictures keep flipping
damp moisture dripping insistently
consistency, mortality
totality and ending
happen time and again
true end, broken wheel
impossible,
flickering sparks jump from the ash pile
yellow daisy river sways in the breeze
blonde beauty white dress she runs her fingers over the petals
cicada song, buzz on lilac tongue
Blue skies sun peaked over head
No clouds a kiss of wind
Direction, arrows on a compass
Point to where and why
Startled doves rise divides the mind eye
Motion and stillness
Control and fluidity
Feb 23, 2020
Feb 23, 2020 at 11:12 AM UTC
Someone pulled me closer,
when you pushed me away.
When you told me to get lost,
someone asked me to stay.
Tell me what I did wrong?
Tell me what I did right?
One threw me into the dark,
and the other, into the light.
While you counted my flaws,
someone loved me anyway.
While you ruined my nights,
someone saved my day.
Tell me what I did good?
Tell me what I did bad?
One made me the happiest
and the other, only sad.
-Paras Bajaj #PoetrybyParas
Instagram : @mr.parasbajaj
Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 11:21 AM UTC
A cry for help:
I'm sinking, I'm sinking
Into an ephemeral blink -
Stains and strains of time,
Oh colourless ink.
Dry relief rains:
This pain
will wane,
Why worry
in vain?
Death lurks
in all works.
Don't let it drive you insane.
Dec 14, 2018
Dec 14, 2018 at 8:42 PM UTC
And to think of those with one choice, already chosen for them
When I have freedom
My freedom is prison
The clock moves forward
Everyday
it keeps taking me back
to that loneliest hour
I can’t stop breathing, even if I tried
Something in the air just weighs me down
A flower watered to death.
Oct 2, 2018
Oct 2, 2018 at 2:47 PM UTC
Seasons come and go,
Each year it's the same.
If only people changed like the seasons.
Winter, Summer, Autumn, Spring;
Each one holds a secret,
It's own special magic.
Winter holds a promise that there is
Life after Death.
Spring ignites a spark; a sliver of
Hope and a pinch of Joy for healing.
Autumn holds the key to
Eternity,
And Summer is the Epicenter of
The Magic.
Summer is the result; the After-life;
It is Rebirth.
Seasons change, and people do too,
But it's a pity - a shame - that people
Don't change the same way.
People are too unpredictable; we change
Our minds too many times, we change
Our Destinies every day.
Seasons don't.
Seasons accept their constant cycle;
Their Natural Pattern.
People will never be like the Seasons.
I guess that's what makes us all
Unique.
In this way
We are Designed -
Crafted, Molded.
Seasons harbour a Secret;
It's own special Magic.
We too, are our own special Magic.
Winter promises Life after Death,
People are promised Happiness after Depression.
Spring ignites a spark of Joy for Healing,
People are promised Joy and Healing after Pain
And Suffering.
Autumn holds the key to Eternity,
People are promised Eternity in the Promised Land.
Summer is the Epicenter; the After-life,
And people are the Epicenters of their own lives.
We are our own Masters of Catastrophe.
People are Reborn in Faith.
Looking at it now, maybe we are much like
The Seasons.
We are predictable in our unpredictability.
This is our prized Possession.
This is our kind of Magic.
People have seasons, people are seasons.
Winter is our Darker side,
Spring is our Healing,
Summer, our Euphorical - blissful side,
Autumn, our Procrastination, our Changing,
Our Learning.
Just like the Seasons, we change;
We mold our Futures and become who we are meant
To be;
We become part of a Cycle.
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 3:20 PM UTC
Leave me by an impasive shore so that I may be tooken by the waves
Let my body drift on sorrowful waters as the sun meets my gaze
Burn my iris to where I no longer see no evil nor no good light
Cramp my bones so that they no longer have the urge to fight
Barge your sorrows into the tender house of my lungs
Replete me with depression and smite me with your tongues
Opening scars that bleed out in vain
Stress blocking my mind to thoughts inhumane
and beliefs I might actually give in to spreading myself thin
But I don't and I float to the shore once again
Oct 4, 2015
Oct 4, 2015 at 6:34 AM UTC