"pollinating" poems
I am a sunflower
I am the Son’s flower
radiant
glowing
pollinating the earth with the seeds of joy
I am a sunflower
I am the Son's flower
mighty
growing
bending but never breaking under the strength of the wind
I am a sunflower
I am the Son's flower
repopulating
rejuvenating
regrowing a generation focused on self-growth rather than world-growth
I am a sunflower
I am the Son's flower
shedding tears for the hopeless, feel, and the weak
for the ones who don't have the strength to grow
for the ones who need just a tad more sunshine
for the ones surrounded by drought
I shed tears in hopes of giving them joy, hope, life, and happiness again
I am a sunflower
I am the Son's flower
Jan 6, 2018
Jan 6, 2018 at 1:39 PM UTC
Tall
breeze bending tops
rooted deep
faceted to growth
tips seeking light
scented sounds in needles
beautiful feminine formed spiral cones masculine inconspicuous pollinating
pistils
overlapping in season never ceasing a
productive moment
never fallen, always green
Reminds me of eternal life
Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 9:12 PM UTC
"The thought of the future we will never have was pollinating foul fuzzy particles in the air, slowly following the wake of all those tasseled dreams I had held onto for all those years but had to let go."
The most intimate revelations can often expose plagiaristic suppressions that we've most likely tried to already forget. Suggesting to anyone on the outside looking in, that there is a rancid cowardice secreting from the pores of all those who would deny the most basic of fundamental decencies to their fellow man.
All the while, boasting a loud tolerance that would be found on the very last Autumn-the very last colorful arrangements of watering oranges and smothered reds our world was ever going to be privileged to witness again.
The thundering drumming of my own beating heart gave my freshly dead and bland reaction a neon personality, with a few extra ********* lingering, successful gestures that reflected a sparkly prism of tracers.
Tracers that were birthed from the most brilliant of lasers, as I was radiating something that was blindingly gorgeous, something that was heightened with more sensitivity as it shadowed over the complexity of every kiss that I had ever been given in my life..
Spinning a silk and gold web around me that was almost as intricate as an alarm sounding earth quake.
This flaccidly tight response came at a price, leaving nothing but whispers and the wrong kind of impressions at the sight of it's unwanted face..
The time of dignity and grace felt decades away as your tiny little temperaments began to attempt to soothe me into a very still silence.
"Wooing" me and "seducing" me with such a strong touch of romantic readiness, I knew it would never be matched or found again causing me to feel a stroke of sadness at the single sentiment.
This dramatic departure killed any interest that might have supported the abortive sorrows and short winded elation’s of men, but instead the idea of a possibly new tasseled dream, sparked me into a shimmering prism bouncing glittering, glimmering, glowing rays off my skin, as I put the shine in the sun.
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 3:30 PM UTC
As a maddened beast it charges
Emanating with expanse
Brute techtonic plate reaction
From the epicentre’s stance.
Huge concentric rings diverge
Expanding at horrific rate
Black, titanic, towering waters
Ploughing to a deadly fate.
*Kneeling in her bed of roses
Pollinating bees abound,
Morning sunbeams kiss her shoulders
Peaceful garden bliss surrounds.*
Surging to the coastal shelf
The black gigantis rears on high
Claws toward the placid beach
Seabirds scatter to the sky.
Tide receds to bare the reef
Stranded mackerel whitely leap,
Enormously the massive wave
Attacks the land and they who sleep.
Death comes fast to they who loiter
Violence in the tangled purge,
Massive pressures, crushing debris
Broken buildings in the surge.
Ships and cars are tossed asunder
Inexorably it slams
Far inland to slay those fleeing
Locked in highway traffic jams.
*Strange roar at the garden wall
Terrified, she finds her feet,
Roses, bees, sweet girl engulfed
As black entombedment swamps the street.*
Far inland the chaos flows
Wreaking death's destructive bands,
Halted now by highland hills
Where souls in horror, wring their hands.
Slow retraction leaving ruin
Desolation far and wide,
The smell of new death in the air,
Heartbreak in the countryside.
Marshalg
For Nippon
18 March 2011
Mar 17, 2011
Mar 17, 2011 at 4:44 PM UTC
pollen rots,
faintly wafts increasing death
in an otherwise vacant Spring breeze.
the memories of bees buzz.
melodramatically,
i add a spoon of honey to my coffee.
it isn't fair trade.
neither is the milk..fair trade milk?
40 multicultural minds
hexagonal attuned:
the IPI begins to gather
in consilience
some further future data,
worked together for a whole new picture-
target for debunkers touting
benefits of pesticides,
ultra-gene manipulation patenting,
cross-pollinating property.
i am a bland dismissal too,
not just touchy-feely rage at rampant death
upon death, on death, death after death..
for 'death has always been common' right...
as i sit here, sipping sweet and sour coffee
not quite awake
.
May 3, 2013
May 3, 2013 at 12:59 PM UTC
I love the way you throw your hand out the window when you drive;
Careless and free,
feeling the rush of wind pass through the space between your fingers,
the earth’s breath kissing your knuckles.
I love the way you go barefoot when we walk through the woods.
People passing by throw strange glances your way,
and you tell them they’d understand,
if only they took their shoes off too.
They do not know the softness of pine needles under bare toes.
They have no connection with the ground under their feet,
it does not speak to them how it does to you.
I love the way you sing with your eyes closed,
focused on the sound of the drums, the sound of that ancient heartbeat.
The language sliding off your tongue a victorious cry
that we are still here, and we haven’t forgotten.
They may have tried to pry it from our lips,
but songs fly up from your lungs, like sparks from a fire
that is still burning strong.
I love the way you laugh, throwing your head back,
letting loose your joy into the air,
pollinating the space nearby with your hard-earned light.
The world may be a dark place,
but you cast that brilliance wherever you can,
and it gets a little brighter.
-Emma Cooper
Aug 5, 2017
Aug 5, 2017 at 5:32 PM UTC
Harvested perfect eggs,
of the mother to be,
are kept, in deep freeze.
enriched sperms of paid donor
(looked after well
to keep perfect fit)
are getting impatient.
the bee, fertilizer nonpareil
handpicked and hired,
fertility specialist,
didn't keep his word;
away on leave,
"pollinating vacation"
over phone, he explains,
"my last chance to
proliferate my clan,
wife is excited,
need to make it happen now
this time, of the year,
the chances are the best"
*a melancholy moon, barren woman
silently weeps moonbeams
over the sparse, still thinning forest*.
Sep 27, 2012
Sep 27, 2012 at 8:03 PM UTC
this combo presents itself
inexplicably demanding a
poem~all~its~own by gum, (1)
though the brain refrains from
providing any clues where/what
might be inside the intersection of
the Ven diagrams of cross pollination and enervation
but as an only love poet,
he thinks he is brilliant,
and visualizes the intersexual
excitement of two insects (bees)
recombinant/\recumbent after the stimulation
of cross pollination as most
enervating
<>
said the Queen bee to a worker bee:
"*Honey, be a dear and pass me a cigarette,
all that pollinating and wing flapping is
just so enervating, I think I'll just die*"(2)
Jul 27, 2025
Jul 27, 2025 at 7:47 AM UTC
maybe i didn't
fall in love with the way
you smile,
or the way your eyes
light up when you talk about
something you like.
maybe the didn't fall in love,
with the way laugh;
the way
your eyes would crinkle,
and the way you would
lean back a little.
maybe i fell in love
with the way you fall asleep,
and the way you are
as gentle
and as kind
as a butterfly,
pollinating a little,
small flower,
trying ever so hard,
not to hurt it.
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 9:11 AM UTC
*
We have no name
We live no where
No directions leads to us
Meet us by
Knocking the doors of LOVE
And if you see us in
LOVERz eyes
In a BELOVEDz glimpse
YOU may meet us there
~~~~
If Ranjhana didn't sing
If Zuliet didn't dance
The world is to blame
For LOVE's despair
~~~~
I want to remain
The last page of LOVE
Of your life's chapter
Remember...
Once you wept for me
Let tears cleanse my tomb
~~~~
Two incense sticks burn
It's ashes blow in the wind
Like birds - wings in flight
Pollinating LOVE in souls
~~~~
When, Where, How, Why?
Beyond world's prying
No one knows the reasons
Yet we meet everyday
In our secret ways
We LOVE more than live
We dive within each other
To stare at our reflections
~~~~
Destiny is our bride
Fate - our groom,
And
Even if we are apart
It is LOVE's light
Illuminating NOOR
Uniting our SOUL
*
Aug 31, 2018
Aug 31, 2018 at 11:24 PM UTC
multiple universes appear like flowers
budding as if stuck in perpetual springtime
pollinating the perception of a passerby
bulbous lives floating along a breeze
ear buds plugged to silence the scream
a dissonant chorus of opposing beliefs
Nov 17, 2015
Nov 17, 2015 at 12:49 PM UTC
i saw an apple tree with blossom oh so white
like little drops of snow a picture of delight
lots and lots of flowers and pollinating bees
as busy as can be among the apple trees
waiting for the summer for its fruit to drop
each and every branch yeilding such a crop
when the apples fall and lying on the floor
it will wait its time to bloom again once more
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 9:59 AM UTC
simple delights: warm air cradling buzzing bees,
pollinating big trees, bringing me to my knees,
alive and grateful...yes, please!
Aug 11, 2024
Aug 11, 2024 at 12:25 AM UTC
It's summer here in Miami, Florida. The Jacaranda tree has violet flowers that fall and float on the tops of the moist jade grass. The Gardenia bush with bent branches is heavy with fragrant white flowers. Parsley, basil and dill are tall and flowering with bees pollinating them.
Numerous plump cherry tomatoes, with all their tingling flavor, hide among the leggy bushes. Green and scarlet bell peppers, smooth and crisp, hang on neighboring branches.
Several new baby birds are fledgling from nests while their parents protectively hover nearby. Two families of scarlet Cardinal birds greedily eat from our outdoor feeders. A flock of fifty Cherry Head parrots with their crimson shoulders and heads crack open black sunflower seeds.
Toads at night call to prospective mates sounding like broken air conditioners. Black wiggly bodies swim in clusters in the canal feeding on algae waiting to grow their legs and hop through the tall grasses.
Global mangoes growing and ripening on trees are large enough to sweeten the palette .
The sun is smiling warming the earth--the animals, plants and people. Steady rain quenches the thirst of all creatures. Nature is here for us to enjoy.
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 3:24 PM UTC
Most accidents
happen near the hive,
near the home.
That's why I chose
to be a drone,
and go it alone.
Buzzing, stinging, pollinating,
all for the good graces
of my queen's throne.
The workers
sitting at home,
wishing they were me.
Out collecting pollen
like a bigger,
better bee.
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 10:01 PM UTC
In meadows, rich with clover, I have seen them here before;
those industrious little creatures at their pollinating chore.
Now the land is strangely silent, was Rachel Carson right?
Are we killing all the bumblebees? Have they made their final flight?
There are those who point to climate change as the source of all our pain.
If the bumble bee is dying, it is heat stress that’s to blame.
Others theorize a virus as the cause of their demise;
an illness ravaging the hives and emptying our skies.
I even heard one scientist make the hypothesis
that our overuse of cell phones is the cause of all of this.
Could it be that our usage of glyphosate is to blame;
As GMO spreads on our fields, our crops are not the same.
Monsanto is an Agri-Corp with bought friends in D.C.;
A “friendly Legislature insures profitability.
The F.D.A. is slow to act; Congress drafts obstructive laws.
It seems to me, just possibly, they already know the cause.
Jul 11, 2015
Jul 11, 2015 at 11:16 AM UTC
We, stayed up late;
Saw his shadow cast away
a distance. Sung his song.
We, rise alone:
Clutching the fruits of
imaginings. Sated of hunger.
We hear birdsong
& bees, pollinating the blossom,
in everlasting harmony.
We watch steam
form clouds around us,
alighting over our morning cups.
We stir, refreshed, tasting nectar anew.
Jun 23, 2013
Jun 23, 2013 at 6:45 AM UTC
There's a magical place in the forest
Where fairies go to cultivate
Flutter around with verses and rhyme
Sweet poetry they make
They frolic amongst the
Verbs and nouns
Plucking flowers and synonyms
Joining hands and ripe phrases
Create odes they want to sing
Cross pollinating the pieces of poetry
With different story lines
Fertilizing with a purpose
In the growing of the rhyme.
Their dainty feet
Sow similie seeds,
And their deft little hands
Root out mispelled weeds.
Then they whisper the words to the
passing breeze
Who takes words, caresses them,
And floats with ease.
They travel and roam
Off to distant pastures new
Where they settle
And blossom into a muse.
Then implant in the mind
Of a resting poet
Enter his thoughts and views
Who upon waking
Will stretch, smile and write,
And continue to grow and enthuse.
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 11:28 AM UTC
I feel sorry that some people think
They
Weren't
Born
Whole.
So they go out searching,
Waiting,
Abating,
For somebody to complete their soul.
At a young age I was blessed to be broken
Got to put the pieces back together myself.
No man, no prince, no shining bright knight.
Just me and my sutures
Disinfecting alcohol on the shelf.
I don't need a healer
So no human need bother
I fixed what was broken
Saved you your wine-and-dine dollar
Spend it on a damsel
Who's been tricked into thinking she's distressed
Because I'm having none of that **** here
I'm the latest model of me and it's simply the best.
See medically speaking,
Scars won't ever leave
But they can always be replaced
By smaller ones chosen at your knives' reprieve
So I've built myself a brand new me
As whole and together
As possibly could be.
Patched up nicely with sutures
Tied ever so tight
Keloids like embedded trophies
Many a victorious fight.
And while one might go searching
Like a pollinating human bee.
I know my self worth.
I'll never depend on thee.
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 10:34 PM UTC
Empyrean ocean
sifting silken under moonlight.
Pure and dawn the memory of bonfires
and hymns passing like fading auras
echoing into the firs.
I sit on a lawn chair whiskey in hand
head loosely let back
while we wait for the end of one year
and the start of another.
Drunken voices speak
faint topics inside the cabin a few meters off,
it's silent here a picture settling
over our temporary breath of history,
smoke escaping our lips and entering
the haze of reminisce.
Fire crackling contained roars warmth
like freckled arms laced around our skin
and eyes heavy set in the sheath of heat
resounding the field
while winter's dew is pollinating the lawns.
Celebration on all corners of the world
Big Apple bumper to bumper
metropolitan hysteria
TEN
I'm smiling
NINE
the crowds gathered around palettes burning
to ash like the universe
EIGHT
sparklers lit small stars
fizzling dancing midst the embers
SEVEN
I'm dying beautifully
SIX
You are too
FIVE
Indonesian Summer on the horizon it's all
so hopeful and you can't help but think idealistically in times like these
FOUR
take a break from the bombs and the wars
for oil or in the name of god and let the air soak through your lungs
refreshing the world refreshing our youth
THREE
we have so much time soon to be so little
it all goes by too quickly somehow
TWO
our eyes are gleaming
lips wide in radiance
kisses kissed hearts lifting
up in flame
ONE
what will we be another year from now?
where is it we cry next?
who and where is our next great love?
how do we hurt and when?
what does it take to recover?
I'm sure we'll find a way
it's only a few hours to morning now
always is somewhere I suppose
and here starts a new odyssey,
everything is getting older
and newer all at once,
the fire is still glowing.
Nirvana goes on dancing
inside us.
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 8:56 PM UTC
I mourn the loss. I bury you underneath the soil beneath the earth- the past the present and the future.
You are like the flower I adore, budding and blossoming, pollinating and withering, but there is only one you. As your petals fall your body wilting, you lay still as colors fades into dullness, I mourn the loss.
I mourn the loss. The brain the body and the soul. Your eyes they blink, your mouth they smile now replaced by once upon a time- you were once alive.
I bury you in the abyss of my mind with the trace of your life you left in my heart. When the rain pours as the wind howl, my tears will mimics the raindrops on my face and I will wail along together with the death of my drowning sane. I mourn the loss.
I mourn the loss of what could have been the forevermore but with death comes life.
I bury you underneath the soil beneath the earth- the past the present and the future. A life will emerge from remains of the loss. But before that I will mourn, the loss of all there was to it.
I will mourn.
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 3:41 AM UTC
You are to me;
What honey is to a bee;
The simplicity of the pollinating of nectar,
From flower to flower,
Comes the idea of working together-
Because not having one with out the other,
Is Like counting the sea shells without the shore.
Sep 2, 2010
Sep 2, 2010 at 12:49 AM UTC
I’m not a ditzy tulip,
or a bent erratic stem,
I’m not a trapped crysthanamum,
or a wilting gray hydrangea,
I’m not a pollinating prophecy that gives to all of nature,
I’m not a zoo of daisies,
I’m not an incessant rose,
That ****** the first to bow,
or a zinnia that pallied dawn,
I’m not a scentless lavender that pouches sweet consent,
I’m not a blossom specks of red that blanket willow trees,
or a bush that dupes that soil,
after frost descends the weeds.'
Dec 18, 2015
Dec 18, 2015 at 1:10 PM UTC
All at once, the breeze cools my skin.
the air is sweet.
All at once, my heart is here, the line is thin and at my feet.
All at once, the rose is me
And I the rose.
All at once, this garden is old,
yet fresh to see.
All at once, no desires, just what is.
All at once the clouds the sea
The rain in this rose
The pollinating bee.
The sun that shines
Is free to see
Not just in the sky
but in the leaves
The earth that feeds
Every ounce of me.
All at once, all that can be
Not just outside,
Inside too
All at once and all that is
Is right here
Right now
All at once.
Jul 6, 2020
Jul 6, 2020 at 12:14 AM UTC
I’m navigating a field of dark something-ness
Sitting quiet in morning air
In these cavities where my soul perceives life, I seek a heightened energy
Laying hidden behind wrinkled skin
tucked tightly into two beds of compact tissue
in this moment they rest purposefully as if sitting behind window curtains
They serve a common purpose when prompted,
To identify objects in this limiting dimensional plane.
Some days when I come here, I wander aimlessly across battle-torn countries of thought
It is essential to let the river take them
Watching them pass as an observer instead of the instigator
Feeling the depth of their sting grow distant
Sinking deeply into the dimension where we live beyond bodies
Where I am a bee pollinating the flower
I am the bird calling out in a resounding plea
I am the wind pushing through bamboo forests
Until breath inhaling and collapsing my cadaver becomes less of a grounding cord
And the mat placed beneath with intention is no longer a chain to the ground
There is now no face to inhabit,
The world; a faint memory of molding
Here the wind isn’t quite invisible
Temperature is not affected by her power
Bearing colors, intentions and tranquility
I let her carry me up and away
Sep 11, 2022
Sep 11, 2022 at 5:33 PM UTC