"germinates" poems
When a seed germinates,
It needs several conditions to initiate its growth
but a flower is different.
A flower only yearns for rain to cover its drooping petals
and sunlight to embrace it from every corner.
As I grow up,
Material objects become useless.
Only certain people matter,
and being able to hold them tight
would be the best birthday gift ever.
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 6:49 AM UTC
A yellowish time was walking alone
On the Hare Road in the rainy afternoon.
Is it time to discuss with coffee or ice-cream
holding the hand like a band
Touching the sorrows before putting
coins into the evening's folder?
It's time to slice time thinner and thicker
Processing pickles on the dissection table
With likings-hates, joys-sorrows, dreams-realities
before the evening flirts afternoon!
Going ahead or coming back or even standing a while
Which one is the worthless best I don't like to know?
A small seed of wrongful dream germinates mutely
From infinity and going to the end of infinity!
Never have I seen any time walking
Nor have I seen any rainy afternoon at Hare Road!
Poem 17
Book 'Beckoning Jade-Dreams' April 2007
Copyright Musharrat Mahjabeen
Mizan Publishers, Dhaka, Bangladesh
ISBN 984-8700-82-X
Aug 20, 2012
Aug 20, 2012 at 8:09 AM UTC
Where does solitude end
And the beauty of love begin?
We must allow our emotions to permeate
Our spiritual vestibule
Before rapture dawns
Like an empyreal gust
Within, upon, and throughout us,
Then our bliss will no longer be ephemeral,
It will be everlasting.
Someone on this existential expanse
Loves you
Beyond words, Beyond thoughts, beyond
Time & space,
With cosmic understanding;
Like, age-old supernovae
Radiating with stellar light
Until their macrocosmic romance
Waxes nebulous:
—Dust to dust.
You who are gleaning these words,
Contemplate your immortal value
As a living legacy
That Burgeons & blossoms beyond the day
Of your exodus from the Earthly Plane
For the soul is a seed
Radiating with the Eradia of Ages;
Therefore, shine
Until The Flora of Yore, Yggdrasil germinates within.
Lamentation makes you more loving,
Just, wise, and strong;
Yes, embrace every moment
That life brings
For Providence safeguards you
Within His Celestial ramparts.
"But the path of the righteous is like the bright morning light
That grows brighter and brighter until full daylight."
(Proverbs 4: 18) (NWTSE)
You have an undying will within you,
You are a vessel of sanctity
Intemerate & hallowed;
Yes, you have been set apart
For an ethereal crusade
With no known beginning &
An indeterminable end;
Exhale, you are Life, Love, and Liberty,
And a Spark of The Divine.
It is true, that you are the experiencer of
Your joys, your sufferings,
Your exultation, and your woes,
But you must ne' er forget
That you are not alone;
Therefore, walk forevermore
In the Baptismal Rays of The Sun
For you were borne with purpose,
O, Warrior of Light.
Jun 4, 2021
Jun 4, 2021 at 1:48 PM UTC
I have searched for your face tirelessly everywhere.
Though I've failed in my quest, I know you're there...
I have seen your beauty in the full-moon's glow.
I have seen your immensity in the celestial flow.
I have seen your precision in an atoms procession.
I have seen your passion in a poets obsession.
I have seen your bounty when a rain rejuvenates.
I have seen your mercy when a seedling germinates.
I have seen your restrain when injustice prevailed.
I have seen your wrath on great cities razed.
Though I've seen you not, I've seen your essence,
I have felt your love and your nurturing presence.
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 10:37 AM UTC
Jay Horatio
By the door in the flower pot The man who planted all these trees
Among the beans in the veggie plot Alas I knew him well
In the lawn, everywhere -little oak trees- He did not see them to maturity
Do you know who puts them there? How long our years we cannot tell
I've only ever seen it once Now strong and spreading to their prime
He does it when you're not around They seem to thank him for their chance of life
He does it taking lots of care In gratitude they sway and soar
He puts an acorn in the ground And breathe for him as he can breathe no more
He thinks he's coming back to it We thank the Jay for acorns
When he feels the need Unwittingly he sows
But mostly he forgets And plant like him we must
So germinates the seed Although like him we may not see them fully grow
As I look up at this fresh green canopy
I think of all the tiny saplings
And of what will be
Sep 8, 2012
Sep 8, 2012 at 4:17 PM UTC
I
duck into tree light
while this red earth field,
seven years ripe,
germinates small answers
to questions hard planted.
You,
Shroud in silence,
drink the silver night air
while the elusive slips
silently by.
We
stand sky-high
weaving through
grain threshed
wind swept fields.
Suddenly,
awakened by the capacious star's
rising yellow ardor,
verdant implants of dewy life
lift skyward and scatter untrodden roots.
Jan 11, 2010
Jan 11, 2010 at 2:43 PM UTC
There are demons inside of me.
They consume my soul,
Destroy my body.
I walk around
As though they do not exist,
Yet the truth remains
No matter how hard I resist.
The darkness germinates in my core,
The roots stretch through my veins,
Each day they grow more.
Through my eyes -
I see shadows,
While cries from Satan's slaves echoe.
Hunting for prey,
Hungry for anything.
I give them myself,
My hollow body means nothing.
As the pain builds inside me, I need a release
I fold myself to fit,
But can't bend to a perfect crease.
So I cut,
And I cut,
Again and again
Your body is a canvas,
But it's not ink in my pen.
Nov 12, 2013
Nov 12, 2013 at 11:19 PM UTC
Look outside with the brightness that is within my eyes.
Taste the tea that is warm and sweet. Vanilla flavored.
Hear the song playing within my ears. It resonates.
As the songbirds fly in the Cloudy skies overhead.
The leafing trees waving eagerly, bidding that we both step outside.
Into the woods and wild lives of other eyes.
Don't be afraid of the unborn seed. It germinates.
Growing us both taller than the trees.
For love is in the sights and scenes which we both have seen.
Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 10:19 AM UTC
I perched today in the rain of autumn's late harvest,
Nothing, nothing, nothing but travesty,
Drop after drop after drop of a stone's weightless gravity,
Pain dripped and mixed with the dead grain,
pain milky cloudy purple and insane,
pain germinates across these polluted plains,
Her dread perfume still clings to me,
The bread of her soul still stings me,
Her infertile love is the acid inside of me,
In the depths of the dead winter's heart
there lies my tormented fleeting fearful hart,
For all eternity to be hunted by love's doomed dart.
©Rangzeb Hussain
Jan 19, 2011
Jan 19, 2011 at 10:37 AM UTC
pain in my thoughts
love sounding like something
that’s perfect to tie up with bitterness
reluctant sadness breeds in silence
consciouness germinates in the darkest fantasies
“who am I to thine soul?”
my thoughts dipped in regret
my heart dipped in darkness
my voice swimming in lies
and my lips drowning in deception
my mind sinking in sudden death
feelings wading under water
where I retract our intact desires
and restore our dying connection
hurt me until you feel the satisfaction
deceive me for as long as you can
play mind games and rip my heart apart
contradict the blindness of our love
or damage the salt of my soul
with the murk of your demons.
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 4:38 AM UTC
Each season comes and goes, the beauty of it all
The storms of life, make me sit upright
The tears that are shed and they hold me tight
Takes my heart, makes me fight
As the moon rises, and wind blows long
I am tucked in bed, and I know just know...
Debbie
*There is a reason for every season
nothing everlasting, yet we cling
every storm, followed by a calm
the seed that breaks, only sprouts
the heart that breaks, germinates
But for you and me... No season, no reason...*
Rupal
The path I take, will always be the wind mills
Of time, but my heart can only take so much
As each time I am shoved from these trying times
I beg I cry, to let me find, let me die
but then I see words in the sky that show me
how my friends, how the world can be
and then there was you, a dear sweet friend
from across the world but so near to me ...
Debbie
*Familiar paths I will not choose
neither follow nor will lead
People come, people go...
Maybe reason, maybe season
It's not per chance you and I met my friend
HE.. who knows what I need, before I know
Sent me a friend, so near, so dear
And Just a click away...*
Rupal
By: Debbie Brooks and Rupal
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 3:08 AM UTC
Somber rasps,
from neon flickers; cosmic elapse,
while late-workers drink the moon's wake,
subtly alive - blood-bolt captions on their weary eyes,
by feel-good bar lights,
solemnity; desecrating gemini,
grisly wonder germinates in vapour-shaken minds,
fissures - pigment-bleed from harsh-glare,
crystalline pecks - tension resolve,
absolution; static melt over slate
silhouette slink - frenzy cult,
blink- she swells into the night,
aluminum-thump - frigid airs send urban-rush,
past in whirring monotony,
hall-stretch labyrinth - she was home again,
rusted clink,
cogs whine again; like clockwork,
she hadn't touched the front door yet
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 4:22 AM UTC
After reading A Severe Mercy
I decided to collect what the author coined to be
Still Points of the Turning World.
Moments
As fine as flour
As ephemeral as the waxing of the moon
Yet as eloquent and lucid
As the vermilion and indigo sunrises in the East
Which take one’s breath away.
I sat in an empty room
Full of people
As I watched my Grandfather breathe his last.
His eyes closed. My Mother’s tears
Streamed across his cheeks.
I ran a way from home
Post Storm. The fading clouds
Loomed heavy, still bitter.
Yet I’d never felt as light
As when I stared across the landscape
And felt the peace of Being
Sweep over me.
I looked at his pupils.
The soul dwells there, They say.
“I’ve never done this before.”
He moved a loose strand of hair
Behind my ear. He took my mouth
And helped me learn.
The thing about
Still Points of the Turning World
Is that they are full of Pain, Longing
Wonder, Joy, and are
Every bit of what makes Life
Worth living.
Simply being aware of them
Germinates the seeds
Curiosity creates
Their space to breathe
And love
Waters the roots.
Mar 11, 2016
Mar 11, 2016 at 10:39 PM UTC
*
***आओ
कुछ लमहे
बिखरा दें दिल की ज़मी पे,
बारिशें हैं
शायद उधर
मोहब्बतें पनप जाएं...
Let's disperse
some moments on
the land of hearts,
It's rainy season
maybe the love
germinates there.....***
*
Jul 15, 2018
Jul 15, 2018 at 11:55 AM UTC
the wind was a ruffle in the curtains
and the day went by, unseized
the world was a ricochet in a chamber
and the gunshot bedroom leapt out, inept
the women weep out neglected, knowing
*** is of no value in our promiscuous world
a cigarette is like a god in the skies
the expectation is lofty and leaves us sad
the earth turns me dizzy
my arches have fallen
and the trojan horses have all fled off, torn
each child is abandoned in time and they all
**** their parents with resent, cuckkoos are poets
when they push all the little birdies out the nest
each poet is a cuckoo liar, inflating any kind of truth they've found
in the dotting of their stinking socks.
a beard is a false billboard
a wife is a lie that germinates s l o w a dog is a god if you look with sad eyes
there’s shakespeare in everything
and its all undeserving
there’s drama behind every curtain
and all the best legs
creep around like common juniper
into the fiendish, lonely night
people make soup
and they shoot themselves with shotguns
it doesn’t all make sense.
don't make sense.
make oatmeal
Jun 18, 2021
Jun 18, 2021 at 1:22 AM UTC
He has sold you a **** story
Which you have grasped fiercely
And consumed, embraced, bought into.
What choice do you have?
I know for a fact that doubt germinates
From time to time
Because you know him,
But what choice do you have?
You want to believe.
So I'll leave you with his lies,
Sweet unseer.
If I could be a **** for him,
Then I can be one for you,
With a nobler purpose,
And a steelier resolve.
I will give you what you need,
As he can't and won't.
Believe, believe,
I can't, I don't.
Nov 13, 2013
Nov 13, 2013 at 5:10 PM UTC
When all the dust has blown
By all the rust be grown
Change the scene for once more;
Leaf in the wind, and spore.
An infinitesimal seed
So hapless and inconceivable,
That emptiness of heart
Germinates of a green new start.
A negligible bacterium
To the unforeseen eye
Effervesce, bloom and spume!
Company will soon greet you!
O embrace the sobering ground,
'Tis here just like you found.
All the resources will draw nigh,
'Twas in you all this time!
All need words of encouragement,
Some protein and enzyme.
Rest, reactants, in thy calm tent,
Get some shut eye to see rhyme.
But ever haunted of the past
Should the even'n empire return(1)
See a world in a grain of sand(2),
But never Heaven on this land.
Lo the booms and the busts!
Lo expansions and recessions!
Lo the mad and the sad!
Lo multitudes and solitudes!
O humanity I love you!(3)
How generations trapp'd
That live in cells within, imbued
To so idly stay rapt.
But to their good fortune, adapt!
You shall be absolved
Walking with peace as every stepp'd(4),
The diplomat endow'd
Alas! A new variety!
With such resilience
In ev'ry zone, ev'ry climate
Here to live, here to please!
Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 6:30 PM UTC
Birth comes through warmth
as love is born amid feelings intense
and rain's source is in the evaporation
babies emerge from the warmth of wombs
while a seed germinates in a certain temperature.
And if death be cold,
is rain the death of water drops
rising out of the sea
and love is dies
when our feelings freeze?
Nov 7, 2017
Nov 7, 2017 at 11:18 PM UTC
An unexpected bubble of joy
germinates in my heart
dances in my throat
and arrives on my lips
as a sweet whisper
Your name
Aug 31, 2018
Aug 31, 2018 at 9:11 AM UTC
Each season comes and goes, the beauty of it all
The storms of life, make me sit upright
The tears that are shed and they hold me tight
Takes my heart, makes me fight
As the moon rises, and wind blows long
I am tucked in bed, and I know just know...
*There is a reason for every season
nothing everlasting, yet we cling
every storm, followed by a calm
the seed that breaks, only sprouts
the heart that breaks, germinates
But for you and me... No season, no reason...*
The path I take, will always be the wind mills
Of time, but my heart can only take so much
As each time I am shoved from these trying times
I beg I cry, to let me find, let me die
but then I see words in the sky that show me
how my friends, how the world can be
and then there was you, a dear sweet friend
from across the world but so near to me ...
*Familiar paths I will not choose
neither follow nor will lead
People come, people go...
Maybe reason, maybe season
It's not per chance you and I met my friend
HE.. who knows what I need, before I know
Sent me a friend, so near, so dear
And Just a click away...*
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 4:42 AM UTC
Five forlorn fugitives...
take tender and subtle sips of tea...
together they camp, this lone night
stars their only source of luminescence
Forgiveness for their crimes...
are what germinates their brains...
Pray and pray they will....
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 6:44 PM UTC
⸎⟆⥉⦕⫯⟴ Ode to the Count De St. Germaine ⸎⟆
Dearest Count,
I know you watch and listen.
It is through you I set sail upon this ship of thoughts
To you, to whom, I christen.
These polysemic effulgence do, alas, waxen, wane,
but seldom in vain.
In antediluvian silence drawn,
manifests in hyperborean dearth
a logos, sir in autochthonous rebirth.
Their, hierophantic murmurs will obfuscate,
the omphalos of matter, still inchoate,
where perichoresis in vertiginous tide
the fractal that doth assuredly bide.
A palimpsest of null embrace
where these false augurs drink from hollowed urns,
and time itself forgets to turn.
Perfidious orisons, whisper-thin,
in circumflected aeons spin,
converging on the cusp of naught,
where paradigms in silence rot.
A chrysalis of paradox,
enshrouds the fey, unbridled clocks,
that chime in fugue, then dissipate
beyond the hinge of latent fate...
The pericombobulatory grand design
deliquesces in auctorial decline!
(Syncretic palingenesis unspools,
within the aether’s epistemic pools,
a syzygetic parallax unweaves
the thaumaturgic spoor that time bereaves.)
For naught but vacuous profundities remain,
a simulacrum of the arcane mundane,
where in sesquipedalian grandeur lies
a syllogism clad in grandiloquent guise.
Ouroboric concatenations of antinomian design,
circumvolute within paracryptic paradigms malign,
as obmutescent theogonic vestiges coalesce
in the eidetic zymurgy of aphasic largesse.
Metagnostic palimpsests, fracto-linear and obtuse,
catachrestically wane in hyperchromatic profuse,
whilst locutions, effulgent yet contrite,
obumbrate the paramorphic tautology of night.
A transcendental abecedarium, paralogical and vast,
consanguineous with the inexorable umbrage
of our shared Jungian past,
germinates within the syntagmatic—
Ever relaxed or ecstatic,
Coalesced to pragmatic,
Lugubriously emphatic.
Within this hypostatized ratiocinative mire,
where sophronistic axiom and non-being conspire,
one finds but an echolalic, chimerical gleam,
an ontosemantic palinode to the dream.
The Archetype realized.
The Alchemist mystically re-materialized.
Count, oh Count.
"Wherefore art thou," indeed,
in this : our time of greatest need.
Feb 24, 2025
Feb 24, 2025 at 4:23 PM UTC
Ouroboric concatenations of antinomian design,
circumvolute within circumspatial paradigms malign,
as obmutescent theogonic vestiges coalesce
in the eidetic zymurgy of aphasic largesse.
Metagnostic palimpsests, fracto-linear and obtuse,
catachrestically wane in hyperchromatic profuse,
whilst locutions, effulgent yet contrite,
obumbrate the paramorphic tautology of night.
A transcendental abecedarium, paralogical and vast,
consanguineous with the inexorable umbrage
of our shared Jungian past,
germinates within the syntagmatic—
Ever relaxed or ecstatic,
Coalesced to pragmatic,
Lugubriously emphatic.
For naught but vacuous profundities remain,
a simulacrum of the arcane mundane,
where in sesquipedalian grandeur lies
a syllogism clad in grandiloquent guise.
Feb 28, 2025
Feb 28, 2025 at 8:56 PM UTC
this is the way the world ends
this is the way the world ends
not with a bang but with a
high price of admission, that being the innate circumstances wherein his ego germinates and grows into two things at the same time: externally pleasant and internally grotesque.
this is the way the world ends
this is the way the world ends
not with a bang but with a
long stretch of beach lined with hospital beds, pyres alight to the God of False Flags and Falser Hope, long speeches and poor teachers getting too close to the water.
this is the way the world ends
this is the way the world ends
not with a bang but with a
difference of opinion - the trickle-down economics of not giving a **** about anyone except one's inner sanctum, from the unrepresented in their little mud huts, to the shadow skulls with buzzing sinuses; Everything, Performing the Dance of the Hearse Driver.
this is the way the world ends
this is the way the world ends
not with a bang but with a
whimper, courtesy of yours truly
May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 9:04 AM UTC