"botanicals" poems - Hello Poetry

at the end of it the end of GIN sweet botanicals! how you fill my soul with rain and my heart with heat a lifeblood for the courageous drink GIN

0

Dec 17, 2014

Dec 17, 2014 at 1:31 AM UTC

mickcadenisou

Ode to Gin

at the end of it the end of GIN sweet botanicals! how you fill my soul with rain and my heart with heat a lifeblood for the courageous drink GIN

6

From a tiny seed, Cultivated on the vine. You fed hedonistic need, Turning grapes into wine. Sun-ripened botanicals, Coated with white snow, Reactive chemicals, Delicious moscato. Metabolic complexity, Antioxidant neveau, Oxygenic activity, Bubbly pinot grigio. Crisp and refreshing, Cheeks become sanguine. Acidic and effervescing, Behold, fruit into wine 1/17/2016

0

Jan 17, 2016

Jan 17, 2016 at 4:25 PM UTC

dawn-richardson

My Sweet Fermentation

From a tiny seed, Cultivated on the vine. You fed hedonistic need, Turning grapes into wine. Sun-ripened botanicals, Coated with white snow, Reactive chemicals, Delicious moscato. Metabolic complexity, Antioxidant neveau, Oxygenic activity, Bubbly pinot grigio. Crisp and refreshing, Cheeks become sanguine. Acidic and effervescing, Behold, fruit into wine 1/17/2016

17

The sun spies on the city and burns under its gaze. Blushing Workers bake in the heat of the day while constructing a new site for the sick. Their shrill drills bust up loose chunks of gravel and dirt, releasing an abundance of debris that surf the breeze. A lucid hummingbird soars beyond the commotion. So sudden. It towers over skyscrapers with a youthful heart, emulating the shivering helicopter that slashes the sky above. How rewarding that bird’s life must be to have sustained through its years with a heart like a jackhammer, steadily bashing against its ruby ***** The overwhelming core within its fragile, willow form strives to move, to breathe, to swiftly drain nectar from budding botanicals. What a satisfying life, so rich, so fulfilling. And yet- Exhausting Like pressed petals amid pages, its wings begin to tear. Struggling And for once, its jackhammer begins to falter. Has it been granted a break? Perhaps it could be a reward for its burden? Alas, it stops, mid-flight. Falling Falling To Float. To Transition To Be Still Meanwhile, workers below the smog consider their watches for break. The resonating sound of that aching jackhammer goes unnoticed. Even concrete breaks under pressure

0

Mar 22, 2015

Mar 22, 2015 at 1:40 AM UTC

emiliayc

The Jackhammer’s Hum

The sun spies on the city and burns under its gaze. Blushing Workers bake in the heat of the day while constructing a new site for the sick. Their shrill drills bust up loose chunks of gravel and dirt, releasing an abundance of debris that surf the breeze. A lucid hummingbird soars beyond the commotion. So sudden. It towers over skyscrapers with a youthful heart, emulating the shivering helicopter that slashes the sky above. How rewarding that bird’s life must be to have sustained through its years with a heart like a jackhammer, steadily bashing against its ruby ***** The overwhelming core within its fragile, willow form strives to move, to breathe, to swiftly drain nectar from budding botanicals. What a satisfying life, so rich, so fulfilling. And yet- Exhausting Like pressed petals amid pages, its wings begin to tear. Struggling And for once, its jackhammer begins to falter. Has it been granted a break? Perhaps it could be a reward for its burden? Alas, it stops, mid-flight. Falling Falling To Float. To Transition To Be Still Meanwhile, workers below the smog consider their watches for break. The resonating sound of that aching jackhammer goes unnoticed. Even concrete breaks under pressure

22

Seeds could not prosper without the love of your fingers what I know of soil and seeds, is less than nothing, the dirt neath my fingernails is only evidence of a presence on this Earth, but no rapport with the cold, damp earthy plains of what feeds, colors and gives forth fruit and yet, you send this concretized city fella, pictures of the seeds on your agenda, the chosen ones that will in time, birth healing to the world in natural mystical ways, for what I see, what I know is this: *soil and rain, by themselves can bring forth both hardy and hardluck weeds that eke out a living home in a quarter inch of dirt in the in~between of sidewalk cracks, trod upon, but yet! survivors to the worst kind of human indifference* *but when you plant, you fingers enwrap, send coded message hid in the essential oils of human love, for that is what only certain hands can do…* *Your hands much practiced in this messaging, and peculiar kind of kind massaging for I have seen your gardens, moreover I-know, that hands such as yours overflow with both the take and give, inherent in only certain specific humans, at a cellular level not in my possess* it takes a different kind of life experience, that marries different kinds of cloth into a single weave, that stores what is in your fingertips, nutrients of your life, singular, homemade, that make your botanicals fully blossom Jun 1 2024 12:50pm in the sunroom

0

Jun 12, 2024

Jun 12, 2024 at 2:37 PM UTC

nat-lipstadt

Seeds could not prosper without the love of your fingers

Seeds could not prosper without the love of your fingers what I know of soil and seeds, is less than nothing, the dirt neath my fingernails is only evidence of a presence on this Earth, but no rapport with the cold, damp earthy plains of what feeds, colors and gives forth fruit and yet, you send this concretized city fella, pictures of the seeds on your agenda, the chosen ones that will in time, birth healing to the world in natural mystical ways, for what I see, what I know is this: *soil and rain, by themselves can bring forth both hardy and hardluck weeds that eke out a living home in a quarter inch of dirt in the in~between of sidewalk cracks, trod upon, but yet! survivors to the worst kind of human indifference* *but when you plant, you fingers enwrap, send coded message hid in the essential oils of human love, for that is what only certain hands can do…* *Your hands much practiced in this messaging, and peculiar kind of kind massaging for I have seen your gardens, moreover I-know, that hands such as yours overflow with both the take and give, inherent in only certain specific humans, at a cellular level not in my possess* it takes a different kind of life experience, that marries different kinds of cloth into a single weave, that stores what is in your fingertips, nutrients of your life, singular, homemade, that make your botanicals fully blossom Jun 1 2024 12:50pm in the sunroom

42

Hey there, Maurice This man could take the **** outta pistola Tall as Yosemite and twice as wild Then here's Greer, Man's... a little queer. Drinks carrot juice with carbonated soda Says its good for joints and inertia. Don't quite know what that means, But here--You don't gotta know a thing. We smack the back of railroad tracks Zoom down the 8 to the 102 And great! Who can we appreciate? Pretty ladies and dancing lights red eyes our fill of delight These guys walk with a gun to their stride claim to humane: use hollow-point. Infused with botanicals Drinking gin Beefeater talking heads Drowning sins You laugh at them now? Bunch of rowdy gamblers Playing dice with life Spinning their chambers Faster than you probably could. there they are! On Downey street The place where the hackers and potheads meet They deal in prose and green cloth! words and promises and fear of light, Man, these guys are outta my mind! And I hither to and fro their Business stand and hated flair Told me the world would set me free That perhaps we'd all get there eventually But in that mean time Hollow-points hang their claim Grasp for cloth and modem dollar Shackled by a diamond collar Dreaming of fancy little rocks A yacht of metal, a house of blocks I dream of simple things Of green and flowers and Poppy seeds Wherein I find that happy guy and revel in warm alibi Maurice and Greer Me and her She and I, We'll be there And there is here, There I despair And watch awake with placid eyes The drain choked with misplaced hair

0

May 18, 2018

May 18, 2018 at 6:52 PM UTC

TimelessWave

H.P and the Moonshot Hogs

Hey there, Maurice This man could take the **** outta pistola Tall as Yosemite and twice as wild Then here's Greer, Man's... a little queer. Drinks carrot juice with carbonated soda Says its good for joints and inertia. Don't quite know what that means, But here--You don't gotta know a thing. We smack the back of railroad tracks Zoom down the 8 to the 102 And great! Who can we appreciate? Pretty ladies and dancing lights red eyes our fill of delight These guys walk with a gun to their stride claim to humane: use hollow-point. Infused with botanicals Drinking gin Beefeater talking heads Drowning sins You laugh at them now? Bunch of rowdy gamblers Playing dice with life Spinning their chambers Faster than you probably could. there they are! On Downey street The place where the hackers and potheads meet They deal in prose and green cloth! words and promises and fear of light, Man, these guys are outta my mind! And I hither to and fro their Business stand and hated flair Told me the world would set me free That perhaps we'd all get there eventually But in that mean time Hollow-points hang their claim Grasp for cloth and modem dollar Shackled by a diamond collar Dreaming of fancy little rocks A yacht of metal, a house of blocks I dream of simple things Of green and flowers and Poppy seeds Wherein I find that happy guy and revel in warm alibi Maurice and Greer Me and her She and I, We'll be there And there is here, There I despair And watch awake with placid eyes The drain choked with misplaced hair

55

Jesus Christ, I'm all alone Nothing but pain dwells Swelling inside, a bubble of hate Contempt for so called friends So called lovers, abandoned Sharing an empty room With this bottle of botanicals Sure to quiet this madness Or soothe this nagging sadness Or maybe just intensify it all Oh well, who cares Nobody Well it seems to me that Things aren't all that bad for you Except for your fear of being alone Fear of doing absolutely nothing Something I once took solace in That you've turned into torture Supposedly a cure for myself Robbed me of all normalcy Crucified me for none to see Hanging there Alone

0

Aug 22, 2014

Aug 22, 2014 at 12:42 AM UTC

Pantherpants

Untitled

Jesus Christ, I'm all alone Nothing but pain dwells Swelling inside, a bubble of hate Contempt for so called friends So called lovers, abandoned Sharing an empty room With this bottle of botanicals Sure to quiet this madness Or soothe this nagging sadness Or maybe just intensify it all Oh well, who cares Nobody Well it seems to me that Things aren't all that bad for you Except for your fear of being alone Fear of doing absolutely nothing Something I once took solace in That you've turned into torture Supposedly a cure for myself Robbed me of all normalcy Crucified me for none to see Hanging there Alone

23

meat packed tightly underneath. infrastructure. teeth rotting all the time. bacteria drinking spinal fluid. botanicals bloom out of reach. menaced by health. worms.

0

Jun 11, 2021

Jun 11, 2021 at 7:43 PM UTC

jake-sims

i was

meat packed tightly underneath. infrastructure. teeth rotting all the time. bacteria drinking spinal fluid. botanicals bloom out of reach. menaced by health. worms.

1