#gardener
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Pain should not be torn from the stem,
but from the roots.
Yet what cruel gardener exists
who would suddenly ****
a twenty-year-old cypress,
still dressed in the clothes of its blight,
from root to core?
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1d ago
Jun 2, 2026 at 7:31 AM UTC
On the Sabbath God Sabbath
The command to rest a shadow
A cessation of earthly works
Today, as Everyday, is Sabbath
A return to Eden: Adam restored
For the Sabbath was made for Adam
And the Son of Adam the Gardener
Sabbath is the work in Eden
So we too on Sabbath, Sabbath
Dec 5, 2025
Dec 5, 2025 at 1:42 AM UTC
I'll comb your hair gently and braid it neatly.
The dark silky strands—streaks like how the milky way shines.
Like an astronaut preparing ahead of time, I'll settle for the stars that begin to align in your eyes.
Like an gardener loving his elderly wife, I'll plant flowers to bloom in your hair.
When the time feels finally right—like the spring that begins to flow by, I'd only have wished our love in this lifetime.
Nov 26, 2024
Nov 26, 2024 at 2:53 PM UTC
__[Gardener]__
_/ ˈɡɑɹd.n̩.ɚ/, /ˈɡɑɹd.nɚ /_
One who gardens; one who grows plants
or cultivates a garden
I had the sight to foreshadow the coming rain…
the saturated drink of bottled-up sadness
—while longing to touch with eyes
Magnetized and mesmerized; smitten by
the coming storm of love… Oh how one does look
forward to the rain, as the cool of day- as droplets
dance on the shoulders of a raincoat
Perhaps in this long and overachieved drought
these feelings are like desert rains divine
precious liquor of life, upon my eyes parched sands
Growing out beautiful violets, from once violent gales
still in my eyes fruitless lands- I glance at you, my
delicate flower. For the yearn and crave— a heart
able, available, and willing to water your garden with
the words of raindrops gossiping about us,
_“pitter and chatter”_
Is it not a comforting sound?
Jul 16, 2024
Jul 16, 2024 at 7:07 AM UTC
Owners own the land,
but the gardens will belong --
to the gardeners.
Mar 13, 2024
Mar 13, 2024 at 4:48 AM UTC
I Don't Want To Be A Warrior In The Garden
Nor A Gardener In A War
Yet I Shall Rise To My Position
Of This, I Can Be Sure
As Steel Touches Steel
And Seed Touches Soil
Peasant In The Field
And King With The Royal
I Shall Grace The Gardens
Be The Gardener It Needs
Storm The Battlefields
Be The Warrior That Bleeds
I Hold It All Inside Of Me
Everything I Am And More
But The Garden Needs It's Gardener
And The Warrior Needs His War
Jan 30, 2024
Jan 30, 2024 at 6:52 PM UTC
Suppose I was a gardener,
In a field of dreams.
I would **** the earth
And plant innumerable seeds.
Of passion, of faith, hope and belief
To sow happiness, to offer relief.
The corporeal, and the intangible
Working in tandem, coupled together.
The offer of body and soul
With the goal of a
Brighter tomorrow
Jun 7, 2023
Jun 7, 2023 at 3:13 PM UTC
oh, silly gardener
when will you concede?
azaleas will simply never grow
from mere old papaya seeds
you blame it on the soil
you blame it on the weather
now it's drowning in excess water
can't you see how much it suffers?
i know you love azaleas
but please just stop and ponder
what you sowed were papaya seeds
and they are too a wonder
it's not how you tried to prune them
or because of your undevotion
but what you sowed were papaya seeds
growing beautifully in your garden
Jan 1, 2021
Jan 1, 2021 at 3:56 AM UTC
The acorn is threatened and desired
A delightsome delicacy for predators- big and small.
The lucky ones emerge as oak seedlings.
As each taproot burrows to the heart of the earth,
the sapling doth heavenward shoot.
At the mercy of the elements,
The tender sapling’s survival seems
like a fanciful daydream,
one that slumbers in the womb of time.
In the acorn is hidden immense energy
to sustain the sapling until self-sufficiency it attains.
But will the sapling survive the forces of nature-
The floods, fires, and fall foes?
The Tender steps forth to prune in hope
with fired imagination and starry eyes,
He beholds, not a sapling, but a majestic oak.
From sunrise, He draws from his creative aliveness
as He nurtures and nourishes it
to pave the way for a coveted dream.
He is ever lost in ruminations
about the strength of the future Ancient
to provide soccur and solace
to generations yet unborn,
long after his final bow.
He is comforted that
underneath its soothing shade,
Youngsters will find
private escape from the drudgery of life.
Dec 10, 2020
Dec 10, 2020 at 9:46 PM UTC
I was found
A flower of purple bloom
Alone, in a gloom
Until petals of yellow
Scent soothing
Took root not far away
After time
And months of rhyme
She whispered
To the yellow bloom
Said that there was no room
For the two of us
"Wild violet"
I was branded
Called a ****
Said to be slowly
Choking out the yellow bloom
That in that garden
There was no room
For a vile ****
Alas, a **** I was not
Am not
For I am a flower
Nothing more
But
Call me what you want
Drop venom where you please
My voice perhaps stolen
My leaves torn by your
Shaking hands
Fists in the air
But I hold in
A thousand words
To battle your chaos
Cast away
With every attack
Like leaves to a blower
I won't lie
That's your job
Cruel gardener
Pick all of my petals
Shred my leaves
Pull me by the roots
Still I shall stand
No matter the swinging
Of your crazed trimmers
Snipping away
Though far away
I shall stay
Just a memory
Fueling your chaos
Growing a wall of thorns
Dripping with blood
Around your proud bloom
Of yellow light.
- Jay M
September 18th, 2020
Sep 18, 2020
Sep 18, 2020 at 11:32 AM UTC
And he believed
and found the magic in me
Then flew me into his floral wonderland
He held my hand
and lit the torch
The hope I’d use to light
the darkness of my thoughts
A bright beacon to tame my beast
A gardener unafraid to touch my heart of thorns
May 1, 2020
May 1, 2020 at 9:57 PM UTC
I have laid lilies at your door, close your eyes and smell them; there is nothing pretentious about them.
There is no bill enclosed in the greeting card nor needle tucked between the stems. It has been a gesture of love, simple things that grow
like moss on rocks and pearls in oysters
I have laid them gently, made a horticulturist of myself
I have worn big hats and ventured into my own fields
to snip the loviest of the bunch –and in my basket I always gather for two.
One for my kitchen table and the other one for you
Feb 17, 2020
Feb 17, 2020 at 11:37 PM UTC
The Gardener’s Roses
by Michael R. Burch
Mary Magdalene, supposing him to be the gardener, saith unto him, “Sir, if thou have borne him hence, tell me where thou hast laid him, and I will take him away.”
I too have come to the cave;
within: strange, half-glimpsed forms
and ghostly paradigms of things.
Here, nothing warms
this lightening moment of the dawn,
pale tendrils spreading east.
And I, of all who followed Him,
by far the least . . .
The women take no note of me;
I do not recognize
the men in white, the gardener,
these unfamiliar skies . . .
Faint scent of roses, then—a touch!
I turn, and I see: You.
My Lord, why do You tarry here:
Another waits, Whose love is true?
Although My Father waits, and bliss;
though angels call—ecstatic crew!—
I gathered roses for a Friend.
I waited here, for You.
NOTE: I do not believe in Jesus as a “sacrifice” to a primitive “god” who demands the blood of innocents in order to “forgive” sins of his own making through a ghoulish "atonement." But I will not completely discount the hope that love can transcend death, although, like Thomas, I will have to see it to believe it. Keywords/Tags: Jesus, Christ, cave, grave, tomb, gardener, roses, angels, resurrection, Mary, Magdalene, love, heaven
Mar 21, 2020
Mar 21, 2020 at 5:44 AM UTC
The gardener from thee-
a meager seed and humble need
a leaf within his reach
The spell enclosed,
apricot and peach.
Pineapple in bloom
No rose
No jessamine
Symbols of all interposed
With a flower so sweet,
like a blue eye
the gardener sighs.
"this Plant, is not mine."
Dec 26, 2019
Dec 26, 2019 at 12:22 AM UTC
focused praying mantis still as a stick
clueless prey three times its size-
best friend of gardeners
Oct 23, 2019
Oct 23, 2019 at 6:16 PM UTC
Even a tree that bears good fruit has dead branches
Even a tree that bears good fruit cannot prune itself
Even a tree that bears good fruit needs a Gardener
Jan 25, 2019
Jan 25, 2019 at 9:41 PM UTC
A gravekeeper by trade
burying the dead to stay alive
with a green thumb and *****
the unused earth oh how it strives!
Fat tubers and roots
green leaves with red veins
small vines sprouting fruits
even a small section for grains
The gravekeeper never goes hungry
his family never starves
he loves living in the country
and his plot of earth that he carves
One day two fresh dead
and a rat, maybe two scampered by
soon a sickness to be widespread
day by day how that multiplied!
More bodies into the earth
how did his garden shrink
he was crying and crying
this gravekeeper didn't know what to think!
Should he be happy for business
should he be sad for the loss
is he crying for his vegetables
or is he crying for the bodies that are tossed
Little by little did the green become stone
his loved ones feast on a diet of worms
now he, a lonely gardener of bones
sits and watches as his world burns
Nov 15, 2018
Nov 15, 2018 at 8:47 AM UTC
I don't know how much more
I can find trust ignoring the lore
That I keep on writing til my fingers are sore
This strange heavy book
with an even stranger look
that a stranger once took
I want to think
that it is full of insightful ink
giving me good reasons to always stay close to the brink
But when my heart grows fonder
today when I catch myself, ponder
my mind only recklessly starts to wonder
And I've been reckless before
my heart and soul given to a false poet who calls me a *****
it tinted my deepest thoughts, it might be blue forevermore
I'm an expert on overthinking
still can't help but drinking
Wonderland's poisons up til I'm shrinking
If I could only say
that on some distant day
I'd learned my lesson not to pray
For you can never know
maybe it's only the gardener, just a poet for show
beware of what he might sow
Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 11:21 AM UTC
artful creations
colors, charcoals
paints
stone and clay
wood and paper
bringing life
from
lifeless
form
from
formless
can the artist choose?
~~~
garden creations
shades of green
jade
artichoke
asparagus
fern, forest
and
jungle
mint, moss
and
pine
shamrock
tea, olive
mixed
with
a multitude
of blooming
hues
can the gardener decide on one?
~~~
kitchen creations
sweets and treats
savories and piquants
cakes and pies
meats, stews
casseroles
butter, garlic
lemon
rosemary
and
thyme
parsley
and
saffron
onions caramelized
to sweet
peppercorns
and
cardamon
tamarind, turmeric
nutmeg
combined in
precision
joy and
love
can the chef say which is best?
~~~
and thus
I challenge any poet
can you choose your favorite "child"?
Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 5:56 PM UTC
(2017)
Bee is such hardworking
To comply the clover,
Reluctant to do in present;
Behold another flower!
Seemering on summer's call
And all the leaves today,
Honey is replenished
Through Gardener's supply.
E.
Feb 25, 2018
Feb 25, 2018 at 5:26 AM UTC
love is the sweetest seed
you'll ever plant in a heart
to make it enduringly flourish
tend it well from the start
love's blossom shall grow
into a beautiful array
an exquisite rouge rose
cherished for its display
Valentine the perpetual
gardener of endearedness
cares with a loving touch
profound in true closeness
Feb 14, 2018
Feb 14, 2018 at 9:28 PM UTC