"germinated" poems
The girl i liked
she's the one with eyes starry
like the night sky
a mouth red and cherry-like
her smile
is the springtime rain
that gently awakens hundreds
of flowers
i don't know when exactly
i fell in love with her
the love germinated
perhaps concealed in the bashfulness
during high school
i knew it's love
when her head's on her desk
glasses on one side and sleepy-eyed
i couldn't help but take one more glance
my love for her
was hidden in a piece of eraser
in her little piece of bread
the feeling of liking her
is when i remember her smile
either with friends or alone
it is also after we parted ways
the feeling of missing her
couldn't forget and couldn't let go
she appears in my dream
running to me
the girl i liked
her name is so special
i still hope i can meet her
even if it's just one time
i will no longer hide
my love
i hope the thread of fate
pulls us together
love essentially
is the miracle of destiny
the girl i liked so much
her name contains neon and beverage
it's been inscribed here
since forever.
Jun 16, 2022
Jun 16, 2022 at 5:01 AM UTC
i tried to overlook
but like seedlings, you germinated
roots around my phalanges (like a dandelion)
from where we last touched.
over time and frigid winter weather, the roots
spread. around my metacarpals, intertwined
between my ulna and radius, all the way up
to my humerus and scapula.
by the spring, flowers sprouted just above my
collarbones, embracing my mandible.
little wilted blue petals surrounding me in my bed
each sunrise, but by noon, new petals already have
attached themselves to the receptacle.
by summer, i pluck their petals for amusement. as
they drift away in the breeze i can't help but to
remember you. us. we. and another thing i haven't
determined is whether you have forgotten me
or not.
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 7:39 PM UTC
I imagine her night –
her winter, her dark – better
defined your light,
the same way black velvet
offers a showy diamond.
A diamond,
your diamond,
full of beans,
along with mine,
full of shrieks,
seeds we’ve germinated.
Yours is tall and yellow;
mine blue and pensive.
Kindred, we
dream a garden for them.
Sep 17, 2016
Sep 17, 2016 at 9:34 AM UTC
I’m lying down in the ground
as the sun shines its rays
right inbound
on me.
hounding me
(surrounding)
Without a sound
Or is there?
A ringing
or dinging
a pinging
maybe a constant stinging.
I wouldn’t know.
Could be the blood pulse
or the sea dulse wrapping
the seashells doing their sins
or
a pair of siamese twins
trying to
dance and
lance and
advance on my grave
(how brave! how brave! i hope they cave)
germinated spouts
and terminated doubts
with exterminated outs.
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 3:16 PM UTC
a rocky place to call home
metaphorically speaking
by the side of a road
among the detritus of motorists
thrown from car windows
as was he, just a core
from an apple in an unfinished
lunch box eaten on the way home
that somehow germinated
I call him, him because
it makes me comfortable
to give gender and character
build up some sort of empathy
in the winter a sad skeleton
silhouette against a slate sky
bur every spring blossoming
to produce apples for the birds
where no human would dare
wander unless broken down
I admire the consistency
of nature and the hope it brings
Jun 15, 2023
Jun 15, 2023 at 1:54 PM UTC
I long for myself
and for those I love
and for those I lead
to be like the
wild sequoias.
Let our reach
be high and vertical.
Let our roots
be firm and intertwined.
Let us be
strategically planted
in deep reservoirs.
Let our bark
be thick and resilient.
Let our seeds
be released
and germinated
when the fire comes.
Yes, let us be
an enduring grove,
outliving difficult
seasons and enjoying
the plentiful.
Apr 5, 2017
Apr 5, 2017 at 2:13 PM UTC
Between the long plain that reaches over to London eye,
and over again to the ornaments that lay under the sky-
the city opens up its zero chorus of blackness within light flys;
I’ll never be up here again-
on another night where the staleness seems to have been flashed
away;
- I lay back and accept the clean wounds of space between wind pulse;
the campus sits as a passed morning meaning that I can stay up
here until I need to go, migrants of vehicle sound beaten by
a flock passing below the polluted white clouds- I’d welcome
security to find me; I’d give them the most genuine
‘hands up’ at this point;
I’ve taken enough neon in to know that it was worth it. The ache
in my body is night breeze, any losses are about 100m down,
lung and heart happy to stare- I doubt there’ll
be a hoo har- my mind licks over the clear void of the campus
and rests back; it seems worth it just to sleep,
just here, but I’ve gotta climb back down too
and even that thought,
is sent back-germinated
from the stars
as if the symbols of their light,
are more warnings,
to accept their open room
as my own;
without question,
less I quit,
and dive now
too.
Jul 22, 2013
Jul 22, 2013 at 3:26 PM UTC
Unfortunately, I was born with sin.
From womb I've been a dustbin.
Sadly, my society is sinful
and I joined to be
playful.
Truly, sins germinated in my life
and grew up as my wife.
Certainly,I can't be called a saint
even as I put on paint.
Hopefully, my dept had been paid by Christ's death.
I now can take new
breath.
Sincerely, I am
walking toward
righteousness.
Developing an act of
humility and holiness.
Fortunately, I shall
meet the Father
and equally see my
Blessed Mother.
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 9:59 AM UTC
It's a destiny on
everyday to
the sunbeams
to hit the soil
and the green
to grow fresh
It's a nature, every
seeded plant to start
growing with
germinated awakening
This, is not by guess
it's just on real incidents
That had so many did
in the dreaming of the
realities yesterday and
the day before yesterday
Mar 19, 2021
Mar 19, 2021 at 1:49 AM UTC
A family of trees
Stays true to its roots
Sinks deep to quench a thirst
Ancient and insatiable
Determined to be stable
As well as free
Branch these crooked fingers out to the sky
And the sun shines a smile
On each weary leaf
Glistens a energy
That livens up each stem
They stiffen to attention
And soak the wisdom in
The very core of their being is lifted
levitating
Rippling out into new possibilities
The struggle and competition
For nutrients is endless
But the urge to live is powerful
Graced with rain
The dew spheres dance
swaying and swelling in the cells
The spacious forest
Turns to thickets
Location gives advantages
The privileged grow greedy
And the rest grow weedy
Flexi fibers lack the strength
To stretch upward any longer
Their core too encumbered
In the absence of the sun
They begin to live in the shadow of another
Their limber bodies swoon
Curving down to the ground
The weight of the world
Resting heavy on their tense shoulders
The rest continue to gravitate to a ball of fire
Like a moth to a flame
Absorbing a lovely nectar of truth
But soon the heat begins to penetrate
Deeper and deeper into their thick skin
Scorching
******* out all that love within
Fire breathes into the family
The dragon gains speed
And feeds on the dead needles
Before leaping into the canopy
In unity they stand tall
Individually they fall
But even if you burn this down
And a phoenix grows from the ashes
The cones would not spread life
Without the aid of a fire breather
And the cycle of life begins once again
Every tree germinated and reborn
With new eyes and open arms
Ready to let the wild nature of life
Back into their souls
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 3:07 AM UTC
My love
Is a poem translated
Meaningless
Between the lines
It germinated
And bloomed
And floundered
In the memory of
The fallen flower
Wounded seriously
Fighting
With the insects
Buried themselves
Between the petals
My poem
Now
Is a morsel of
Crumbled words
Translated by the unknowns
With the pen
Filled with poison
This fallen poem itself
Is my love.
Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 5:14 AM UTC
I can feel myself becoming more and more
Withdrawn.
Slowly drawing away like a picture
Faded in the sunlight from endless
Summers on a warm dashboard.
Smoky breezes pass and swirl around
Radio airwaves like a ballet.
Gently, it plays.
Like my voice.
But sound just gets eaten by
The east wind and carried
Downward into the mundane.
There is an impulsive dissonance..
No one recognizes who I am anymore
[Except for an equally lonely barista].
Perhaps her and I are the only pair
Who hear the dissonance ringing?
Perhaps we can lighten one another's burden,
But we're much too reticent for conversation.
Breathing harmonizes with the whispers
Of air passing through the trees,
Still my voice is lost somewhere in
The hot atmosphere,
Whipping around like an only child's
Lost birthday balloon in the bright sky.
The balloon gives up and pops under pressure.
No one hears its melancholic resonance
Through the crashing airwaves
But see its shriveled carcass falling
Into some suburban lawn.
The distance grows like sunflowers,
Germinated by the buzzing few
Who enter and exit my life as
Quickly as they possibly can.
I watch as people attempt their facile exit
As if speeding through a traffic light.
"Eventually they will crash", I tell myself.
But they articulate too well with one another.
Heat radiates and swells within my chest.
Lines blur together.
Forgotten images become the
Cloudy shapes of a projective
Test for the heartsick.
A wearied aperture opens and closes
Trying to capture a glimmer of an
Accidental memory,
But the heaviness of summer light
Exerts a certain gravity upon me;
Ultraviolet-B lethargy.
Everything has faded.
Even the black smudge,
The careless finger who eclipsed
The camera eye,
Is faded to a hazy grey .
With time the heat swallows the photograph
And leaves behind an empty canvas
As I become withdrawn and absolute.
Now, there is no substantial evidence to prove
My existence...
Except for a blank polaroid waiting to be recycled
Into another portrait of someone less forlorn [extinct] than me.
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 2:02 PM UTC
are the vagrant weeds, there on earth spread like greedy ********
never appreciated. Dandelions , to me,
are as gifted glorious,
as any violet or rose. and, fro'
to and believe just as an Orchids scent
on Easter day.
In Ecclesiastes ,
is told that mere breath,
just living, is meaningless.
everything just dies, all is meaningless.
I write thereby, an autobiography,
as if I were a ****
germinated not pretty, fragrant
vagabond, I analogize, anthropomorphize
into a moth ugly,
I try to be a Butterfly,
flutter beautifully, colorful.
But am I
I am
beautiful,
anyway
suffering, continuously
burned in the fire.
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 2:32 AM UTC
They the three,
when all were there,
went out,
out and on down,
down to the ground,
grounding rooting,
rooted to,
all that is,
is embedded,
into,
as one with,
the bedrock,
rocks and soil below,
sow,
so the seed,
germinated seeded,
above as below.
Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 9:57 PM UTC
The task God gave
Today morning
Was bizarre,
And amazing moreover.
Get out of the room
When you turn right once more
After you go right,
On the thousand and thirteenth leaf
On the fourteenth branch
Of the first rose apple tree you see
Is the stain of a migratory bird’s dropping.
Wash it with saliva.
Did it.
Walk left
On the eastern boundary
Of the 16th villa
Stands a date palm.
Except for twelve fronds on top,
The rest have lost their green and are dead.
Supply
Sweat
Or tears
And make it bright green.
That too got done.
Walk straight.
On the underside
Of the waterway,
A little banyan tree
Has germinated and is growing
Give her a kiss and make her a mother.
Oh!
Again,
The quaint ways of God,!
Feb 6, 2014
Feb 6, 2014 at 9:40 AM UTC
When you were eleven
and shy and shuffled your feet
from classroom to classroom
in that middle school, eyes downcast,
avoiding bullies like a midge fly
zipping away from the hungry maws of
rainbow trout lurking in
a mountain stream,
your father sat you down
at the dinner table on a cold Monday
night, over a steaming plate
of meatloaf and a baked
potato and some type of microwaved
canned vegetable
(the same meal that he served
every Monday night),
and he lectured you about the
importance of direct eye contact,
always making
direct eye contact,
while he held the fork in his left hand
and pointed it at you,
its tines coated
in starches and ketchup,
like he was jamming
his index finger straight into your forehead.
“Never look away when someone is
staring at you,” he said. “It
shows that you are afraid. It
shows that you are weaker than they are.”
Then, to make his point, he held his
eye contact—an aggressive, primal stare—
with you, an introverted child,
for as long as he could,
knowing that it would hurt you,
that it would make you wince and cringe,
but hoping that it would strengthen you,
solidify some resolve deep
within you, foster the germination
of some thorny plant there
beneath your sternum, which
over time would grow into
a gnarled cuirass designed to
protect you against the world
and make you into a Man—a true Man’s Man,
the kind of Man who uses his hairy
knuckles to smash his problems—the kind
of Man who eats red meat and drives
a truck, and never backs down
from a ******* contest, even with
an introverted eleven-year-old boy,
and so on, and so forth. Of course,
no such hardness ever germinated
within you, and whatever bond it was
that existed between you
and your father there beneath
your sternum simply frayed
in that moment—a sacred rope
spanning generations
suddenly transmuted into dust.
And of course
you looked away ashamed,
and your father was ashamed, too,
not for his own abhorrent behavior,
but because you were his child.
But he was also proud of himself
in that moment for showing
what a Man he was now,
for finally having proved his own father,
your grandfather,
wrong,
even after all of those years had passed.
Jan 2, 2020
Jan 2, 2020 at 4:36 PM UTC
In dancing of starry night
In crying of deep drunk
When crock wine was looming on
And the moon danced intoxicated on wine colorful waves
Became butler for followers of Bacchus
Monks dressed in white
And yet the world had not heard
Christ crying in the cradle
Songs of drunkenness was flying in the sky
The wine Orphic
When the deep selfless, rained heavenly voices
And was tied mysticism with wine
Woke up at morning with hooded eyes
Oriental Sun
And drowned Hafez (Iranian famous mystic poet) in his sea
Greek wine drunkenness
Germinated in warmth eastern mysticism
Shiraz (City mysticism Hafiz) flowers
In their dancing completed to the mystic
The West's wine
Gazelles of this city
I don't know what will come again and from which side
Monks Wine
In circulation hooded sun
Jan 22, 2017
Jan 22, 2017 at 3:58 PM UTC
I am lost in the motion picture waterfall,
Years cascading to explode over a sea of rocks.
Interlaced at the hands,
Tall you stand like
Jupiter
And
Silent like sand
I dare not speak of it –
This corpal hold that has germinated
Efflorescing into entropy
I am bumping into walls of myself –
The moonlight shone over us
Like a rip tide storm
And we, calmly violently
Thrashed about
And I am beginning to forget
The shockwave of your touch
My void is always searching
Especially now.
I writhe
To implore a soul like yours.
And the ache of the train struggling away
Twenty four moons ago
Apr 11, 2015
Apr 11, 2015 at 8:31 PM UTC
Yet, as many as a Hundred Forceps, yet
Fail to traipse most of my Regrets succeed
Since fuelled most by the Sky's Living Bet
Placed ample Fortitude on me indeed
For since Delusion be mainly the Cause,
A Mask borrowed from Legerdemain's Cell
When lifted - spring the Ghoul in search of Pause
Begging for Alms dressed in Velvet befell
But just like you - a Format un-controlled
Where Germinated Passions do a-rise
Was what Sane Nature calls; Or so a-tolled
Burrow Favoured Moments in your Disguise.
You could just say, and let the Armour do
Weave another Net; And your Certainties too.
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 1:40 AM UTC
my healthy body, mind
and spirit triage progression,
initially sans just
an innocuous psychotic spur
severe psychoneurotic
manifestations didst rupture
whence me childhood's end
as a psychological postfracture
catastrophically highjacking
(via overpressure)
donned with gay incognito
vis a vis sans
tartan Scottish Harris
(Boss) tweed welcome mat
plain as day affliction
obvious nondisclosure
whip saw mental health
pubescent misadventure
with deleterious, hellacious,
and lecherous mailer daemons
indelibly etched within mine kempf
nightmare nonfictional
sigh hick locust plague
odious autobiographical literature
at that perilous juncture
when all of a sudden onslaught
germinated feelings deeply rooted
finding shattered, leveled, and fractured
flintstone bedrock
viz yours truly insecure
pestilential, kickstarted
littoral heretical, diabolical pernicious,
insidious, and avaricious
cerebral heady hot house
embedded, fixated,
grafted "horticulture"
sowed "Kudzu" tendrils
analogous to Oriental gravure
immune to organizing, strangling,
wrangling foreclosure,
essentially usurping,
torquing, stagnating,
rotting prepubescent
healthy development.
Jan 31, 2018
Jan 31, 2018 at 2:53 PM UTC
has a certain rhythm like grass
how it grows here and there amid hard soil
finds soft patches of fertile loam
where the right amount of water drips
off , much like gravity has that pull,
my only poem does too, for me
only one sprig one germinated
small thing bursting against
all the odds to shoot forth and gain another day
in the sun, another day holding to the soil,
and proud I am and small
at the same time or green , or futile,
the thing really is how you
look at it!
May 13, 2016
May 13, 2016 at 12:22 AM UTC
World is in motion
In endless road
When a star is born
Shines and warms the butterfly around a candle
The planet's with own heat
Goes to infinity space
In the blackout of time
In their process
World in motion
Infinite road
When the seeds of apple tree germinated with the sun caress
Learns walking hand in hand with the spring breeze
Falls its blossom on the bride
And throws his fruit in the lap of passer
Particles are in motion
Endless road
For the coming
For the being
For becoming
And for the going to the depths of the universe
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 11:38 AM UTC