"radicle" poems - Hello Poetry

My seed coat is pressed up against me holding tight, protecting me as I age I break free from its grasp growing away from its warmth when there is finally room to stretch I let my roots flow out of me, bursting downward towards the center of the Earth coming from the opposite end of my body is my radicle reaching for the light, it climbs its way out of the darkness and into the sweet summer air to feel more of the sun's heat I unwrap my cotyledons so enthralled by the light, I can't help but but let true leaves sprout upwards, to touch the sky my leaf viens swelling with excitement I need more before I had time to think, an internode grew out of me with small buds everywhere I am content, but need more color in life so I forced the buds to explode into a bright yellow color apparently the yellow also attracted some bees because I was soon surrounded by them after they left I felt tired, worn out ready to sleep I let my body start to decay shrinking back down to the darkness the silence as I leave, I decide to give part of myself back to the Earth out of my last living limb I squeeze out a few more seeds for you to remember me by there, now my work is done I will rest

0

Nov 7, 2012

Nov 7, 2012 at 9:58 PM UTC

devon-renee

BRASSICA RAPA

My seed coat is pressed up against me holding tight, protecting me as I age I break free from its grasp growing away from its warmth when there is finally room to stretch I let my roots flow out of me, bursting downward towards the center of the Earth coming from the opposite end of my body is my radicle reaching for the light, it climbs its way out of the darkness and into the sweet summer air to feel more of the sun's heat I unwrap my cotyledons so enthralled by the light, I can't help but but let true leaves sprout upwards, to touch the sky my leaf viens swelling with excitement I need more before I had time to think, an internode grew out of me with small buds everywhere I am content, but need more color in life so I forced the buds to explode into a bright yellow color apparently the yellow also attracted some bees because I was soon surrounded by them after they left I felt tired, worn out ready to sleep I let my body start to decay shrinking back down to the darkness the silence as I leave, I decide to give part of myself back to the Earth out of my last living limb I squeeze out a few more seeds for you to remember me by there, now my work is done I will rest

27

First the radicle must break through the shell. Then feel the weight of the soil where she fell. She must reach out, search the darkness for light. In order to grow - bud, blossom and thrive.

0

Jan 20, 2025

Jan 20, 2025 at 4:26 AM UTC

BipolarBear

Growth

First the radicle must break through the shell. Then feel the weight of the soil where she fell. She must reach out, search the darkness for light. In order to grow - bud, blossom and thrive.

4

Sorry no poetry today! We’ll try again. Weeks pass. Nothing to say- is it not yet thought of- sprouting, not yet budded. We treat the sprout the radicle deepens budding begins we have a seedling on the rise. This is the poem- You sit there and wonder what a wonderful change. From ignorance of beginnings to glorious realization: The menthol Newport n our hands, Orion overhead, dull street lights, smoke from our lungs distorting the lake. I wonder what it is like- Like what? how the world looks, through your eyes. I see playfulness my imagination runs rampant, merging realties to become- surreal. I disrupt the compliant by paving the roads with trees of broccoli- So that is your world- we share the desire, to glorify our imaginations surrealism you say- romanticism I suggest. I have to tell you. I do hate broccoli.

0

Jul 14, 2014

Jul 14, 2014 at 7:10 PM UTC

luis-miguel-martinez-rivera

Not an Apology

Sorry no poetry today! We’ll try again. Weeks pass. Nothing to say- is it not yet thought of- sprouting, not yet budded. We treat the sprout the radicle deepens budding begins we have a seedling on the rise. This is the poem- You sit there and wonder what a wonderful change. From ignorance of beginnings to glorious realization: The menthol Newport n our hands, Orion overhead, dull street lights, smoke from our lungs distorting the lake. I wonder what it is like- Like what? how the world looks, through your eyes. I see playfulness my imagination runs rampant, merging realties to become- surreal. I disrupt the compliant by paving the roads with trees of broccoli- So that is your world- we share the desire, to glorify our imaginations surrealism you say- romanticism I suggest. I have to tell you. I do hate broccoli.

35