"pollinate" poems
the good book says
one to tame
another to handle the whip
and groan at the horses
as they pull the
freedom carriage
freedom from what?
freedom from fields
of wheat and grass
freedom from
dirt and potatoes
freedom from the
bite of the whip
in the sweltering
Georgia pits
lord
this good book isn’t
very good at all
these horses can pull their own
but I am weak
tamed
invisible
I am a pipe cleaner
bent over and over
until it snaps
to quote
I don’t want to live on
this planet anymore
I don’t want to live at all
this is the sun breaking through
this is the vain bee trying to pollinate
this is my rose under glass
quake if you must
earth
I have been shattered already
Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 11:41 AM UTC
Umi the bumblebee flies sometimes against a tree
You might not see but you are great
So keep your head high my mate
Umi the bumblebee buzzes around full of glee,
Don't worry I will not sting
I am just being fluffy
Though this bee might also be very cuddly
And mostly silly
Umi the bumblebee likes to see people happy
Full of light she flies under the sun,
Buzzing a song and having fun
From flower to flower, each a delight,
Forming a beautiful field, a wonderous sight
Please don't sneeze while I pollinate
Such would be very great !
Umi the bumblebee buzzes around and hits a tree
This is it she can't do more
Now she is sleepy and goes to bed
Till the red of the dawn awakens her and she once again lifts up her head!
~ Umi
Mar 7, 2018
Mar 7, 2018 at 5:05 PM UTC
*plant a seed
embryonic beauty
a seed with heart
sown with compassion
a seed with promise
born on winds of change
a seed with substance
rooted in the soil of foundation
a seed with the flow of life
thirsty for the waters of acceptance
a seed with boundless vision
reaching for synthesizing illumination
allow the energy of expansion and transformation
allow that seed to germinate and pollinate the garden of existence*
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 1:51 PM UTC
Once upon a time, a long time ago
There was a little boy with a grimy flow
I used to hear him rap in Chicago everyday
And this is what I heard him say…….
He say **** like, he be like….
Ah! and I'm a *********** biter
The size of the incises inside ya might surprise ya
You might need rewind to decipher my cyphers
Ain't nothing on this world worth more than my saliva
I go so hard when I'm flowing
So cold my flows frozen
I'm a rowboat rowing in an open ocean
And I'm hoping, to blow up with no promotion
But dam, those explosions are so slow motion
So, I need some honey bees to pollinate my money trees
Cause fuckery of companies, accompanies that come between
A couple bucks and me, turned my orange juice to Sunny-D
Hide the cash for food stamps, no way i'm funded publicly
I'm hungry, but not for sandwiches I'm ambitious
A panhandler with gram plans and last wishes
Ask for the last table scraps you can't finish
Sell em back when you digest, and I repackage it
Abracadabra, I'm an alchemist, my magic tricks are acting as contaminates
I damage this establishment
They enacted bans on urban camping
If you ask them how they sleep at night the answer is
Happily on mattresses
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 12:43 AM UTC
a regime of stars pollinate the impossible
as i linger underneath the yawning medallion of Nightsky
and tarry in the lanes of luminous, gawking at the Quiet.
South of Afternoon.
i plunge into my garrulous despair like an Olympian.
leaving ripples in the peace with shallow valleys
and iridescent peaks.
my swayback is the slope of a grassy knoll of iron will
sleeping on the job
wide awake.
Dec 30, 2018
Dec 30, 2018 at 4:51 PM UTC
.
*Do you remember when time stood still
skipping naked, happy, upon Spring Hill?
Warm westerlies, do rebirth dominate,
brushing the flowers, each one to pollinate.
Do you remember when time stood still
running naked, joyful, upon Summer Hill?
Hot south wind, sun growth it gifts,
providing life, as Nature's head it lifts.
Do you remember when time stood still
walking naked, tired, upon Autumn Hill?
Cool easterlies, the harvest to reap,
just preparing, waiting, for the annual sleep.
Do you remember when time stood still
laying naked, spent, upon Winter Hill?
Chill north wind, the snows to bring,
patient listening, to the universe sing.
Do you remember when time stood still
exposed and naked upon Season's Hill?
No rain, no sun, no wind nor breeze,
could disturb the silence of the Trees.*
© Pagan Paul (2019)
Feb 10, 2019
Feb 10, 2019 at 5:56 PM UTC
Just like an angel flung out of space ,
My love for you will always be genuine,
A beautiful flower in my garden,
I'll forever water you,
Keep you close to the window so that you can flourish,
You're no ordinary flower but a queen in my garden,
Your enticing pheromones will feel the room,
And I'll be the only bumblebee to pollinate you, my love,
Deep inside your alluring petals covered with your nectar,
I'll be so committed in your garden,
I'll keep coming back for more and more,
And you'll magnificently bloom in all seasons.
Nov 12, 2024
Nov 12, 2024 at 11:16 PM UTC
Peevishness is an indigo plant
How could it not be peevish?
It's supposed to be green
How is it absorbing sunlight?
Where is the chlorophyll?
How is this happening?
This isn't what is supposed to happen
What the heck will its flowers look like?
Will THEY be green?
What creature would eat or pollinate
An INDIGO PLANT?
A manticore? A kelpie?
...
Calm down, indigo plant
You have a purpose for being this way
Let it be
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 6:41 PM UTC
I can hear the Band of Gypsys
When I find her sitar eyes
But I can guess what she sees
With her moist mouth jarring wide
******* clouds from the sky
Hoodoo Voodoo Medicine Girl
In a thunderstorm of dirt stained pearls
Tranquillity is everything
As we all float down to hear her sing
And she knows full well
That she can pollinate anything
Simply without the need to sting
The half mast will be put in place
As your heart's pump gathers in pace
If you're anticipating to catch her near
Don't act surprised if you're left to persevere
When you finally catch a glimpse
Things won't quite be as they appear
She'll be floating in the stratosphere
Soaring high with no fear
Cos if you did not know
The Hoodoo Voodoo Medicine Girl
Burns on the fuel of your fresh tears.
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 7:15 AM UTC
“every one shall sit in safety under his own vine and fig tree and there shall be none to make him afraid.”
Letter from George Washington, 1790, to the Jewish community of Newport, Rhode Island
<•>
multiple motifs present poesy alternatives,
but one supremes
safety in your own chosen orchard,
supping on clear water, wine and figs
children of trees, nurtured by one’s own hands,
children of your children, running the grove,
shouting out in sweet safety
the wasps happy shameless pollinate,
dreaming of more generations,
ruefully smiling, thinking of
Adam and Eve, who ashamed of
their apple’d sexuality,
hid their nakedness of course beneath
the safety of
fig leaves
you do not pray for safety
you do not ask for anything,
nothing to fear says the father,
for you already live in our own
George’s garden of eden
Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 1:37 PM UTC
We discovered a master painter
who hand paints intricate flowers
one-by-one to create
a picturesque landscape painting.
In his paintings, a cardinal sits
resting upon a tree branch,
and a monarch butterfly marks
His signature in each painting.
Indian blankets, greenthreads,
brown bitterweed, and Texas thistle -
all vitally important to his paintings.
Therefore, he paints bees to pollinate
the flowers, transferring life-giving
pollen from anther to stigma.
Yes, the master painter places
all of this in his painting with
beautiful intention.
May 17, 2016
May 17, 2016 at 8:42 PM UTC
everyone tries to be different
everyone tries to be the pretty girl
all petty and trend setting
there's no point in trying to be like someone else
because in the end everyone will try to be you.
its like forcing a ladybug to pollinate with bees
complete different purpose
yellow.
red.
forcing your mind set to change
for the sake of he,
even though we know.
destroying ourselves,
flying with broken
black wings.
its true
happens too all of us,
once we change for others
we destroy ourselves.
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 10:36 PM UTC
OOO!
He is worried!
Again!
the Mr. Perfectionist.
It’s almost Carnival but
He hasn't yet got a mask
with specifics
outlining
his ballads
and jests
he
surly lists his bests
in two principle steps
of CAPS :
1)
* Feeds the Bats and
* Tempts the Charms
2)
* Cheap N Handy
* Quixotic but Scary
* Not too Trendy
and he cries
Yuck!
EW!
Husky!
What's worse than
a self-adoring pathetic bat
in my whereabouts!
I can't get the stink and shrill so I help him fast
'Yo what's the worry!'
-I say friendly -
'you need not hurry
cause I think you already are ready!'
-I continue enthusiastically-
'Here! Try this one
My top design
Custom fit chemistry
A truly NO Risk Recipe
and of course
Specially designed for you! '
'for you for youuu
to echolocate
such is an eye-gaze
for the half-blind
such is sound
a vibration that propagates
in ears and brains of pretty gulls
and of course
only for youuu'
- I sing loud a common bat ad just to stimulate
my client and continue- merrily explaining my serviceable recipe
*for 2)
Wear your white shirt just
...as always
the one I know
you know?
the webbed one
weaving grace
and don't forget to
iron it well this time.
*
*for 1)
Put on your true face!
I reckon then
and can guarantee
...as always
no one will ever recognize you .
*
In a flight he disappears glad and I hope he won't show up till next year
What can you do I say to myself and quote a encyclopedic fact about my client.
All things have a place, you don't really need to like them but these ones pollinate flowers and disperse fruit seeds and they are economically important as they consume insect pests reducing need for pesticides.
I say while I ventilate my head with an OM mantra and an incense stick
Bah what a stink what a stink...
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 5:34 PM UTC
A mellow nose
Gorgeous as the moon
Mirrored in the lagoon
Your skin is tender
Your uniqueness is beauty
Of previously not seeing your splendor
Your smile makes me guilty
Love is your center
Kindness, your vitality
Light in the dark, a magic mender
Goddess of purity
White rose
A perfume dose
Peaceful as the moon
Mirrored in the lagoon
Your scent is the trip
And Paradise is my fate
If constantly smelling your friendship
Becomes an open gate
I will be your grip
For when you are desperate
Just accept the bee that wants your lips
To pollinate your fate
White rose
Striking a Pose
Shiny as the moon
Mirrored in the lagoon
Jan 14, 2021
Jan 14, 2021 at 7:57 AM UTC
The butterfly and the bee pollinate,
the unknown flower of memory,
then fly off through the gaps,
of the spiders web into the blackness,
of the vast midnight of the mind.
Words shower down into a torrent,
that falls upon a bewildered numbness,
remaining incoherent, they flow on,
into the stream where perhaps a child,
will gather them and weave them into a melody.
Slowly the poet slides away, unnoticed,
into the mist of time and unconsciousness,
Hidden deep within the flower bed of memory.
an unknown flower not yet pollinated,
still waiting in the realm of the midnight darkness.
In the childs mind the sun shines brightly,
as she brushes the words she has taken,
from the stream of life, with the days light,
The poet breathes, renewed and alive.
so it is in the universal garden of life.
Jan 14, 2011
Jan 14, 2011 at 3:17 AM UTC
You wish your'e pale
or maybe pinkish
perhaps sun-kissed
or maybe olive.
But you we're born tint
divergent skin
arrows in all degrees
neurons were scattered
in all different fields.
Your'e more than a sheep
and we can all bees
I pollinate everything
from black to white
saturated to fade
and you should wander
through different colors
and you just might know
you're more to your skin.
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 9:13 AM UTC
.
*Which crimson bud
doth burst forth white,
which lovely flower
doth perfume the night,
flourish and flutter
doth stamen and petal,
the bee upon beauty
doth gently settle.*
© Pagan Paul (15/08/18)
Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 5:27 AM UTC
Many hundred aeons travelled,
Over many days.
Though I know, with certainty,
Just where all my love stays.
Like a bee to pollen, it is
Instinct, finding you,
As, if somewhere else it went,
All life would turn askew.
So give me all your nectar and
The usual clichés.
Pollinate, repopulate,
Until the end of days.
I promise not to sting you
If you promise not to *****
For when it comes to both our love
No honey is as thick.
Sep 26, 2018
Sep 26, 2018 at 10:12 AM UTC
Field of sun-flowers overhead:
The sparkling yellow grains
bursting out
of the stamens
The wind rises
a call to pollinate
I tuck myself
into a sheet-cocoon
fly upwards
out of the chrysalis.
Aug 13, 2018
Aug 13, 2018 at 10:16 AM UTC
I have been shaped, some bruised and molded statue of clay.
To obey and proceed with attentive caution, wary: "Do not stray!";
Have a walk to clear your thoughts through the Rose gardens.
Some purpose: to love, to nurture, to care.
Alas! I have not been adequately made aware,
That my mind's Ghost gives no steps to share.
A bee for a flower and even fish for the sea,
But how to compare with a human like me?
Let my gills breathe in the stream's current--
And let me pollinate the wicked flower.
For I also must learn the ways,
Of today's quick and increasing dismays.
They say, "You must live, so long as you are alive"
"Do not ever yourself of intense feelings deprive!"
But who knows what's better and right,
And whether we were all born Good and White.
Sentiments overexposed and worn-out for some,
For them become quite weary and numb.
A glimmer of hope through a cloud of fear,
Perchance to say, "Ok, I'll give them my ear"
But the frost built up and fresh wood decays,
The mist has grown dark with a deadly-ash haze.
The suns warmth that to my bones brings strength
Leaves me, in Winter alone almost at arms-length.
Sing, and rebel. WE must drink and remind ourselves-
As one task goes by, another awaits.
Time no longer dances around an infants thumb,
Rather whips and rides the very Sun.
The heart bends, salvation is within!
Where is He so that I may not sin?
But have a walk to clear your thoughts through the Rose gardens.
Because nature's beauty does not take off without warning.
Bags packed and set aside through an evening sleep--
Words of a prophet: "As you sow, so shall you reap"
The long and heavy pendulum of those sighs spent,
Cuts deep into the flesh; a spirit to torment.
Nov 26, 2012
Nov 26, 2012 at 10:49 PM UTC
An Orchid
Simply ****** arresting petals
I'm drawn and intrigued by the asymmetrical
Expressions that gave me this breathless impression.
How do I retrieve a demon so beautiful that the angels in heaven
Forgive and forget
The day I cursed such a corolla
.......................I want you...........................
..................I want to free you....................
pollinate your mind, so in time, you will forget the crime we confide
To never remember such a slow chlorophyllian life... with such little strife...
Falling petals
Never die
Apr 22, 2010
Apr 22, 2010 at 6:46 PM UTC
how might my reality be redefined
by slipping furtively
like a hapless lover
disentangling midnight sheets
fleeing past pathways of my own psyche
to see the view from her mind’s balcony
to inhabit intergalactic eyes
sparkling and shining like supernovae
every time she parts scarlet lips
in defense of the helpless
i'd plant gardens inside her irises
water the seeds and invite the bees
to pollinate fresh thoughts and rejuvenate
an energy that could illuminate new theories
about the cosmos and its inhabitants
i want to dwell within
corridors of infinite imagination
bridge the synaptic gaps
across rivers of lapsing memories
a lackadaisical adventurer
adrift in neurological galaxies
ingesting erudite insight
i yearn to build a home
inside the mind
of a poet
an activist
and a bona fide genius
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 12:04 AM UTC
In the coolness of the evening
Beside a glowing Sapphire Stream
Slept a nest of fairies
In the midst of fairy dreams.
The night breeds dreams in the village
Brought with the fairies' enchanting dust.
Now they make the flowers their bedding.
Exhausted and spent, but fairies do what fairies must.
When the first light of day filters through the trees
You can hear the beginnings of an enchanting tune,
As the fairies wake and spread their wings
Bringing on their morning new.
They pollinate the stamens, dance around the stems.
They giggle and play in the most dazzling way,
Fluttering through the flowers and ferns,
Hidden in the deepness of woods in private display.
In the very center of the forest
Stands a clearing void of trees.
The epicenter of forever after;
The High Court of the Fairy Queen.
The Queen showers the Fairy Kingdom
With magic to make them only appear
To those who believe in mystery,
To those who choose to hear.
Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 7:35 PM UTC
I never thought
I would've locked away a flower.
I never thought I would
Trap such a beautiful creature of nature.
The humongous red petals
Stained with water,
Attracting such a wide diversity of insects.
I had always believed that
Gorgeous things should be set free,
So it could live to it's fullest.
Spread out wide in the open.
And so,
I never thought
I would've locked away a flower.
Yet my marvelous mind encaged a
Beautiful beast,
An imperfectly perfect plant.
Locked it away for years and
Hid it so deep in captivity that
I could never have found it
And I would never have found it
Until now.
Years and years and years on,
Since the flower did first bloom,
It's scent has finally found me and
So did Understanding.
The pungent stench that
Reeked from the Rafflesia,
It slowly seeps into the present
Drowning the pretty world with
Pests meant to pollinate it's seed.
The truly gorgeous flowers slowly
Wilt away as
Evil
Ovethrows
Everything.
I once locked up a memory so tight
I never ever found it,
But in the recent days,
It came slowly
Then like a tidal wave:
Crashed down on me.
The shame just filling my heart.
Killing the not even alive.
I never thought
I would've locked up a flower.
But now I wish I'd locked it back up.
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 9:12 AM UTC
DOESN'T ANYONE NOTICE THE BEES FLOATING ABOVE THEIR HEADS? DOESN'T ANYONE SEE THE ROUND YELLOW BODIES FLYING THROUGH THE AIR?
They make no buzzing sounds in this building.
Some of them are found dead, lifeless on the floor.
What are they trying to pollinate? What flowers are there here for them to reproduce? Where's the wildlife?
SOME OF THEM ARE FOUND DEAD, LIFELESS ON THE FLOOR.
They're worker bees. They're busy FREAKIN' bees.
There isn't enough time to pollinate all the flowers.
THERE ISN'T ENOUGH TIME TO POLLINATE ALL THE FLOWERS.
Some of them are found dead, lifeless on the floor.
Who's the queen bee, then?
Who is it?
Poor little bees are worked to the bone. Too bad they get none of the honey. Some of them are found dead, lifeless on the floor.
WORKED TO THE BONE. Are other bugs working this hard?
They're trapped in this building, cemented, with no choice but to work, work, work.
SOME OF THEM ARE FOUND DEAD, LIFELESS ON THE FLOOR.
The flowers they are trying to pollinate sound like, "WOW, YOU GO TO CLASSICAL. THAT'S A COLLEGE PREP HIGH SCHOOL. HOW IMPRESSIVE!" "HAVE YOU THOUGHT ABOUT COLLEGE?"
This worker bee isn't trying to hear all that ****
"YOU SHOULD TAKE THE SATs. COLLEGES REALLY LOOK AT THEM."
SOME OF THEM ARE FOUND DEAD, LIFELESS ON THE FLOOR.
"TAKE ADVANCED CLASSES. THEY'RE IMPORTANT."
SOME OF THEM ARE FOUND DEAD, LIFELESS ON THE FLOOR.
I'm tired of feeling like a dead bee.
Let me fly.
~~a.s.f.
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 9:55 PM UTC