"grower" poems
pick a word, let it lead you astray, then (soil)
a poem to exclaim, refracting the sun rays emerging
from the curves of your chested heart, the waggle of
ten fingers conducting your inner song, the baton first
waved swipe to earth pointing, let us commence there:
think of yourself, entirety, as soil, you the potter,
what has been planted by others, nourished by others,
along sides of your ingestions, you the grower, seeded
anew, each word, hybrid edging with existing vocabularies
the sun from without, the sun from within, the rivulets
of water, the arterial pathways, feed the treasure chest,
and you, farmer, planter, grower, picker, plucker of the
produce, serve us, baskets grown on the fruited plain of
poems’ soil consisting of the writings grown in the
unique you,
all of you,
body & soul
Aug 26, 2020
Aug 26, 2020 at 11:01 AM UTC
Live life to live
shape the world and cultivate
away fears of shadows and hate.
Grower's thumbs often build
greener tomorrows, tokes to give
to brothers and sisters of today
always searching for more questions.
What clarity can bring to one
not you, but for someone
who holds the rotten cape
held together by rough black tape
to the bewildered open fields
of opiates and grapes
waiting just enough time
to bend around the vine
that holds together what they are feeling.
Let the world keep spinning
wobble from time to time
stumble off our feet
no chance to meet or greet
the war is on our street
bringing lust greed and pride
for all of us to abide
but all things can be forgiven.
Feel the sunny heat
of the smiles of those you just beat
for all the people are here
lovers, plumbers, drummers,
and this goes on, we run again
on and on we run again
on and on again
we go on.
May 31, 2012
May 31, 2012 at 9:56 PM UTC
Burly bleak plumes roll out aloft corn
Where the dragon fell post spin and ditch
A wretched hulk of ruin splintered and worn
Amongst endless blanch green fields which
Arc with a gust and apart where he treads,
Dragging his silk cape afar from flame
Clueless and concussed to a near house he heads
With a tattered scarf that constricts yet ***** about his mane
Black fists of cloud had boomed around him as they soared
His beast spat metal fire whilst the pale sky turned dull
The zipping ballet of warfare smiled throughout as motors roared
Gnashing its teeth and making forgotten martyrs of them all
Shuddering not from demise rather conflict as a whole
He is as content with death as he is to survive
Just not burn the world and condemn his soul
A horror; men of rule seem keen to keep alive
An agrarian self-dines rancorous and crocked
Half sat, improperly perched from where he was shot
Monsters had come for him once before this day
They took his spouse and his daughter and then took them away
He can hear but does not hark to the battle aloft
It is now like the rain and the trees in a gust
But to the boom and the shake he stands with a cough
And as he cites the invader he sees he must do what he must
The grower limps out with a Chassepot in his arms
As the airman’s hands reach up and he falls to his knees
With beads on his brow the man pleads with met palms
The crofter sees naught but a Prussian blue monster disease
The pilot knows his death, ‘Ich bin nicht sicher, wo ich will gehen?”
The old Frenchman just sniggers as he thinks never again
With the rifle’s slug now spent and the horror sent back to his hell
The farmer mumbles to himself, ‘je dois me chercher une pelle,”
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 9:54 PM UTC
Antonio your name,
Agriculturist, grape grower.
Gotten passionate for the land,
For the Douro, Mounts.
That love that is not locked in,
He sleeps in the hill, the mountain range.
He harvested sadness in the Colonial War.
He loved the Douro and Portugal.
He showed the land that joys would bring to it.
He loved their children and wife Maria.
He planted grapevines that looked at the covered with star sky,
He made his wine with immaculate love.
The grapes are a love for all the life,
He looked for Rio Douro e Tua,
In the memory of a people with glory,
With that tear that I feel now.
I comfort me in the duriense horizon,
Today, tomorrow and always.
Victor Marques
love, douro, Father
Oct 18, 2010
Oct 18, 2010 at 7:38 AM UTC
I lie to myself for the resonance of others.
What matters to you means little to me.
Fairly sob mothers, I've watched all my life.
I work against the powers of the arrows,
-potions, serums, and drugs.
I live for myself internally.
and please what is necessary externally.
No one desires the muck from which the rose grows best,
but they desire the rose regardless.
I wish to pick all the flowers that sprout
and water them forever more without the
wilting of others.
I only possess so much water.
I conform by farming the less.
I tend to one to make it the most beautiful.
Often it is against my nature.
I'll never know the life of a great grower
but in creating one thing acceptable,
I am fine.
Dec 6, 2012
Dec 6, 2012 at 12:49 AM UTC
my type breathes ink
pressing said ink against sky
holds it, sticks it, stains it
each letter pushes
and stays
every mistake she makes is crinkled
and college-lined
freethrown in and around
an endless waste basket
later,
we'll call it her greatest work
because my type
type: writer
alphabet ingester
idea inventor
stainer of sky
believes in a world
where the world believes
she dots her eye-contact
and crosses her teachings
she sees old folks as encyclopedias
and children as ear to ear echoes
of all of this beautiful ****
that makes us shout
out loud
she sees fairytales
as tomorrow's scientific law
and travels this crazy world
via lopsided butterfly
whom by nature
always take the scenic route
because my type
type: writer
freelance flower grower
with watercolor wordplay
breathes, believes
and redrafts
breathes, believes
Nov 20, 2011
Nov 20, 2011 at 8:13 PM UTC
Who the **** do you think you’re talking to?
Going through the motions
you think you’re walking through?
Like lacking emotions,
makes up for the fact,
you make up your facts,
in hopes that no one crosses you?
Or shows you respect
that no one has shown you.
Cause you don’t show us.
I guess nobody told you,
being so low on life's totem pole,
in the sense that you’re light in heart and soul,
means that absolutely nobody,
could ever be below you.
So quit looking down, you’re bound
to find the older you.
The one you abandoned,
to show you’re a grower too.
Aren’t you proud now the whole world is over you?
I hear it in your words and see it in your eyes.
You’re weaker than you show,
"know it all" is your disguise.
Went to grow, to fall.
Taller hopes but not to size,
of the man that lives inside,
that heartless, aimless, shameless guy.
Not hard to shape the reason why,
he tries to shame when people try,
just to be themselves,
he needs some help,
with seeking decent vibes.
Addiction at it’s finest
find this person spineless.
Crying, and denying, asking
why in times of crisis.
Yo, just know man,
I mean it as i say it.
This the program,
get with it no debating.
I swear to ******* god kid,
I'll rearrange that face.
You’ve never seen this rage from me just yet, oh ******* wait!
Keep doing what you’re doing and
being such a ****
Being such a *****
is gonna get you hit.
I’ll hit you then I’ll quit,
pack my **** and ******* split!
Partaking in the shaking,
of your habit baby fits.
Complaining on the daily,
like its cute or something crazy.
Kid go find your ******* self,
before you tell me how things may seem.
Use that ******* brain,
for more than your berating.
Elevate yourself.
Hell won't be waiting on your "maybe".
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 1:49 AM UTC
How do you obtain the grower of love?
Will it take the flight of another dove?
To reach the skies and receive the light
How blinded I am by your helpless sight
No longer should you be so bold or rash
To sit is to run and avoid the lash
And look to the ground to soak in the red
A flower takes time to grow from the dead
From seed and patience this rose did arise
To kiss the grower, a pleasant surprise
Oct 17, 2017
Oct 17, 2017 at 8:54 PM UTC
Jesus performed miracles out of sheer boredom
He turned water to wine and became a furious alcoholic
His dad tried to intervene
Prometheus carefully thought of strange and calming memories
His hair and beard quickly became a hindrance to his comfort and to the spectacular view in front of him
He began to resent the stench of his endlessly exposed armpits
He was never quite secure with his ****** being on display
He was a grower, not a shower
Jul 8, 2019
Jul 8, 2019 at 1:26 PM UTC
I am an egg in your gastrointestinal tract. I'll be living here, I hope that's alright with you, oh and make sure you treat me well, you wouldn't want to be a bad host. Don't bother pet naming me. My name is Enterobius, but I like to be called the Pinworm. I'll be hatched in your duodenum, which is your small intestine. Maybe your small dumb mind didn't know. I'm a grower and I'm gonna need some space so I'm gonna take a trip to your colon, I'll feel like a real adult by then. My husband and I will mate there and he'll sadly die, but not in vain. I'll still be here and I think I'll move to your ileum caecum, which is the large intestine, man you humans don't even know the real names for your body parts. I'll eventually attach to the mucosa and I'll be engulfed with eggs, my 16,000 little babies. And on my way out of your body I'll be expelling my eggs. I just wanna say, I'm as excited for the ride as you are.
Jun 23, 2013
Jun 23, 2013 at 6:56 PM UTC
ah yeah
beautiful ladies
stretching up to the sun
what a gift
this little ****
see uh I been a grower
for some time now
grow that types a ****
make ya mind bow
gettin lower
on that cheeba
no not cheva
this is a killa weeda
so many strains
make ya heads spin
you like to stay up late
or get all locked in
see it don’t matter
which way ya wanna go
indica or sativa
I treat ya right, bro
see here in Oregon
we do things different
work a barter system
help each other pay rent
call me a socialist
like a give a ****
you be at my door
when ya havin hard luck
I’m a medical grower –
Son, I grow medicine
stopping censures
killin cancer
out my freezer
alcohol extracts
make all ya'll relax
no mo heart attacks
rushin like the train tracks
I grow medicine –
I grow out door
like that plant was meant to be
no chemicals
let that ***** grow free
feed em organic
lots a guano
watch the buds rippin
from the back po
see I’m a real farmer
have a long patient list
always lookin to add names
get the money makers ******
so I don’t charge much
just cost no overhead
I aint in this to get rich
that’s why I got this rap bread
I’m a medical grower –
Son, I grow medicine
stopping censures
killin cancer
out my freezer
alcohol extracts
make all ya'll relax
no mo heart attacks
rushin like the train tracks
I grow medicine –
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 4:06 PM UTC
Droppin rows
Lil sweet hoes
Starting to show
Ah, new growth
Bout another month
Tie those ******* up
Scroggin arms to buff
Makin knuckles rough
Outdoor grower
Both a grower and a shower
Homeboy didn’t you know,
I grow outdo
Organic food, sprinkling
Had an idea, inklin
Gonna try feedin in the evenings
Prevent these girls from shrivelin
See I
Take care and pride
Don’t let em get fried
Use hemp string to tie
Dog, that aint no lie
Cause I grow out door
Still liven white boy poor
But I grow like a muthafuckin roar
Build slow
Leave ya wantin more
I’m an outdoor grower
Don’t really **** wit food crops
Don’t really make friends with mad cops
Don’t really like to eat pork chops
But I will make you top drop with my
Super green
Grown squeaky clean
Nothing obscene
Goes in-between
These rows
No hoes
Use my hands
Part of the land
Scan the horizon
Make a new plan to
Expand this outdoor grower
I’m an out door grower
Never use a mower
Or snow blower
I’m a outdo grower
Got this **** wrapped up like a boa
And you know
Out door grow
Doin 20 different strains
Some seed, some clone brains
My soil built to drain
Up on the Willamette Valley plain
See I hear all this ****
About Mendocino
And northern cali
But the mid willamettre valley
Grows better than anything in cali
And I back that **** up
Dab nail on leaning on a coffee cup
Bruthas tryin to just stand up
After rollin and smoking one of these blunts
But I
Try to stay humble
Donate my wears to the needy
I aint greedy
Its about growin the best **** me
I do that all day er-ry day
To late Spetember from early May
While farmers out gatherin hay
I be growin the best **** in the USA
I’m a outdo grower
Half-assed rhyme flow-er
Getting ******* to bend lower
So all those buds get equal sun –
Jun 29, 2015
Jun 29, 2015 at 10:57 AM UTC
Celestial gardener
Grower of the seeds
Of spiritual flowers
Multi-colored scents
Of restful souls…
You plant on clouds, graciously
The stems and leaves
Swaying in the air
You hold lives in
Your gentle hands
In a little corner in heaven
Where the Almighty has
Assigned to you
To tend His garden
Of everlasting life
There is an immortal
Glow in your eyes
As you nurture these
Cosmic trees in
The hallway on high
No more sadness for you now,
No more painful tears
Or regrets
You have passed on to another form
Where sinister shadows do not exist
And darkness is defeated
By the white of the light
Rest easy now sweet gardener
And spread all your love and kindness
In the eternal garden called “heaven”
For: Francois Jeanne
05 August, 2009
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 6:31 AM UTC
I issued a challenge to my newly formed group, It went basically as follow. Choose a poem that you read but did not write and use the words from the word list at the bottom to make a new poem the words can be changed for instance winter can become wintery and swim can become swam You can make one up to and submit it if you want my group is for every poet and every kind of poetry. Here is mine.
Why, Thank you
by Elise Cluster
Words
Used in this poem
stone instead free left grey wisdom redeyed tears filled forgotten tongued thank heart blue old
Getting ****** and redeyed
Feeling the wisdom of the old days
And of old people
Laughter comes freely
I have forgotten so many things
I filled up another one hitter
And lit it up
Filling the air with blue grey smoke
I tongued the hitter to feel the heat
I don’t have the energy for tears
My heart thanks the grower
For peace and quiet
And the ease of reflection
I breathe in inspiration
This is great
Jan 9, 2012
Jan 9, 2012 at 10:53 PM UTC
everybody knows her
they call her sister lower
she crawls through the fields
looking for a four leaf clover
if your heart is a grower
never try to show her
she will fly with the breeze
these green fields have chose her
don't try to hold her closer
she will say nobody knows her
her grass cuts never heal
her search is never over
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 9:43 AM UTC
Is it ******* cold in here
or is it just the lies they steer
your mind to fear with
know you cannot see it
or believe this truth I spit
sounds too familiar to the pulpit
calling Satan the culprit
of lust ego sin all of it
you just fall for it like that's all there is
not realizing that all of creation is His
YHWH is His name so the scriptures say
though you may think
it's been passed down falsely to your dismay
there's a side differing see Titus did write this
history Roman in a tome and he talked of
Jesus Christ getting hung up
on the cruc-a-fix He walked with
how Pontius talked with high priests over
Passover feast to hand over
the seed sower heavenly kingdom grower
the only One to the Father show-er
even Jewish Scribes describe of
Yehoshua's vibe was in their eyes that of
a magician so don't be dissin miracles
or call the Holy Spirit unclean at all
that's the biggest sin of all
If I recall any of you cowering away
from this Jew because of what I say
just pipe up so I can brush off the dirt
from my sandals and walk along His way
Know I ain't no snitch Randal just a vandal
making candles you can't handle
light too bright blind your sight
like right away back to the cave
so your chained brother's you can save
Just in these waters making waves
I can tell we ain't quaint by how you behave
Jul 23, 2016
Jul 23, 2016 at 8:18 PM UTC
Fruit goes off.
It gets mushy and smelly,
losing its colour and beauty - losing its taste,
eventually drying out,
losing all resemblance of what it once was,
only good for waste.
But fruit nurtured by a master grower,
a seasoned gardener,
fruit watched and watered til ripe and at its peak,
this fruit is harvested, fermented,
blended til building to a fuller physique,
brought to full maturity til ready for the table
and the banquet where no one's poor
and no-one is able to maintain a semblance of meek.
- where the gardener and the wine maker,
sit at the top seats smiling their blessing.
And the table branches out
giving room enough for the whole family gathering.
And the feast to end all feasts begins.
May 25, 2020
May 25, 2020 at 6:53 AM UTC
Black dirt lays on my hands
The soil that lays there is where I advance
It smells, its manure
I’m the farmer, the one, the grower
I pick a plot
Think of thoughts
Things go by in and out of my mind
I’m stuck to choose where to plant the roots of time
My time cannot be wasted
Like the soil, the dirt, I taste it
I can taste it in my feet
The ground I stand on
Perhaps I’m the plant that my life has cared for
To water, to bring sunlight, that constant care
To talk, to be there, my life to cheer on
I’m but one farmer in this world of carefree
To be or not to be, I cannot please all, so do I become the enemy?
The land of the free, from which I stand all
Planted my roots, and that I’ve prayed on
I was born here, a seed like others that were planted
I grow out of the help of others, I shouldn’t take the help for granted
Though like others I may fall on the granite…pavement, blacktop, and sidewalk
I make my own way;
Things I may say,
The things I may do
I’m not a bad person
You can tell by the view
Well maybe if you trust me
I’m no stranger than you
Overall no matter by my color
A flower is a flower
At least smell it first
Judge after…
No, why judge at all
Get to know instead of pushing away
That’s really all I’ve got to say
Jan 28, 2019
Jan 28, 2019 at 1:55 PM UTC
I'm seeking fulfillment and purpose and a job if i can find one that's worth it
For sure it's not easy to remain vigorous and happy in face of things that make you queasy and not to sound sappy
But maybe if the sun came out then i wouldn't feel so ******
because i feel out of place like a straight hair where every other strand is curled and *****
But what if i started feel good inc, and manufactured happiness to the masses I'll make a killing like a colorado grass grower, maybe then I'll show them that
You can make money doing anything under the right circumstances but my chances are slim for that ever happening like Wayne Gretzky not wearing 99 on the ice
Or maybe, just maybe, we could all spread some love outside
Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 12:41 AM UTC
Blood is red,
veins are blue,
everything goes black when I think of you.
the places we went,
the things we saw,
the fact that you never loved me at all.
your hands tracing my figure,
your laugh tickling my heart,
our love was perfect like some sort of art.
your hair flew in the wind,
and your eyes sparkled in the night,
these memories are making my heart break in spite.
my head starts to spin,
my lungs start to close,
the memories you left me are quite like a rose.
although they hurt me,
and make me bleed,
I love the beauty and Im overtaken by greed.
looking around,
for something i desire,
my heart starts to burn like its filled with fire.
the memories I passed up,
the moments I missed,
there is proof of my mistakes on both of my wrists.
as i watched the red waterfall,
grower thicker and faster,
i thought about how our love was a beautiful disaster.
and suddenly it all hit me at once,
the reason that blood is red and veins are blue,
they long to be together but the outside things change them,
a lot like me and you.
Jan 11, 2016
Jan 11, 2016 at 10:19 PM UTC
I think I loved you once upon a whispers dream.
I think I cared for you more than I thought,
More than it really must seem.
Because what is love to a seed?
A seed with no real intentions.
With no real expressions, but its expected
To grow.
To grow, in the ash painted battlefield,
Where the war set its claim.
The field you fled from, yet your spout remained.
A seed without its sower? A farm without its grower,
but somehow it continued to maintain.
In the beep pits of soot, it set's its proclaims
However, without its owner, it was all said in vein.
I'm sorry, let me refrain.
Refrain from expressing too much because I think it was all too late.
Refrain from expressing it all because I think you were my soul mate.
Jul 21, 2019
Jul 21, 2019 at 5:59 AM UTC
I can show you, if you let me,
Defined as grower, if you left me,
Let’s start the journey, Shiva is protecting me,
Easter eggs; remember lead, you’re never dead, We never die, write your life now because later’s for exit scenes,
This is simply a right hand stretch,
Being present is how we discover what’s next,
What does it mean to invest?
Join me if love is your currency and uncertainty is a mentality because neutrality certainly equates to a lifetime experience of being bless
Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 3:25 PM UTC
Where are you?
Why did you have to leave?
Wasn't the love I gave you enough to motivate you to show your true colors,
To bring forth light into the darkness you hide in and the caves you built?
Or to destroy the mask you wore to make sure no one saw anything beautiful?
Because then they'd expect things
And you hate standards.
You prefer to be afraid and small
Because you recognized that size does matter
And it's easier to be a shower than a grower.
Your insecurity over your ability to be more permeates the air
And everyone you touch.
You could be a healer,
But, instead, you poison the water with your blood
Your blood that smears across the mirror saying,
"Not Worthy,"
And everyone who knows you feels the wrath of your self-hatred,
Dark and strong like the alcohol you consume to get through the day
But I won't be a passenger in your car wrecks any longer
I won't stick around just so you have a companion
When you smash us both through the windshield.
You can be your own ghost, now.
I'm returning to the living.
I can live without you,
But can you live with you?
Dec 30, 2016
Dec 30, 2016 at 8:58 PM UTC