"regrow" poems
do not attempt any magic
when the full moon glow
during dark magic hour
powers are dull
we are already dealing with more than we can handle
so draw a bath
burn Palo Santo
Light a candle
and rest your precious soul
when the full moon glow
it will come
we will cleanse
it will go
it will leave our magic low
only to regrow
and overflow
until the next full moon glow
~take things slow
Nov 18, 2021
Nov 18, 2021 at 7:54 PM UTC
A little promiscuous thought.
Bubbling to the surface of your mind
like molten rock from earths core,
It rises
rises
rises
rises
until it reaches the brim
Then without any warning
It erupts, and destroys everything.
The ashy residue comes raining down
cloaking the once green valley with blackness
the melted rock moving like molasses down the hill
turning everything that once was
into nothingness.
After the disaster seems over,
Things will regrow from the madness
Just waiting for the next eruption.
Just need some way
to control my volcano.
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 6:30 PM UTC
I used to tend to sunflowers,
Nurtured and nurished their seeds,
Through soft songs and flourished hours,
Their beauty a mirror to my needs,
It feeds a hole in my life's fabric,
One I cared not for to stitch in time,
So the hole has become a scar and what's tragic,
Is my sunflowers died and buried into that hole of mine,
I have spent years regretting,
Pulling away pettles and crying over the fact they won't regrow,
But though I knew not at the time I wasnt letting,
My sunflowers growing new and so,
In time I came to remember,
Something I concede that I should already know,
That the rotten dreams of last December,
Are mulch from which new sunflowers will grow,
So what if the sunflowers of my past may never not return,
So what if my fabrics torn and gaping gap will never mend,
The new seeds that I soe are now my new concern,
I have new sunflowers now to tend.
May 10, 2016
May 10, 2016 at 1:19 PM UTC
it takes 28 days for your skin to become new
it will regrow and not be the same as before
so your touch is no longer there on my body
but i can still smell you after weeks of not having you anywhere near as your scent still lingers on me
and i can still see in my head the way you looked at me when we were laying next to each other that day and how you said you would never let me go
the way that our breathing would be synchronized and everything felt right
i remember all the things you said and how i thought that you were being sincere
and now i don't know anymore
as we have grown distant and everything is slowly changing though you promised it wouldn't
we promised it wouldn't
maybe this is how it's meant to be though
or maybe you're the right person but it's just the wrong time
either way, i miss your voice and your random phone calls where you would call just to tell me how amazing you thought i was
so maybe you weren't lying and meant every word you said but it just wasn't the right moment to say it
maybe another time we'll work out
because i miss your touch and i long for it and i want to see you every 28 days so that your touch will never leave my body but i wish you never left me
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 11:43 PM UTC
Your secrets know their place
(next to mine. hers. ours)
Beneath floorboards
you can hear them at night
Haunting this house
Palms pressed against wood
late in the night
With your ear against the cool floor
You listen to them speak to you
Begging to be let out
(they are always begging)
They want to breathe the same air as you again
But all you can do
is feel like you are choking
(God i'm gasping for air)
These words getting stuck in your throat
Sink to the bottom of this foundation
And regrow into a home where these secrets have no place to ruin.
-Secrets will rot this foundation and you will spend a very long time digging your way out
Nov 14, 2018
Nov 14, 2018 at 11:43 AM UTC
What I managed to regrow,
You stomped on.
You waltzed into my garden
Like you had grown the whole place yourself,
Your nose in the air.
You looked at my carrots and scoffed,
My cucumbers you mocked
And you thought my garden gnomes were ******
And I let you,
Because you acted like you knew so much about gardening
You said the caterpillars would help my leaves
And the crows would **** out my rotten veggies
But those cruel birds have just been eating away at my prize-winning squash,
and the tomato worms....well, they ate all my ripe tomatoes.
You said you'd help me tend to my garden
But you rarely make it over
And when you do, you throw a shovel in my face
And tell me to get on my knees.
You watch while I ****
And talk about the grandeur of the flowers next door.
And I wonder as I wipe my brow,
What I ever thought I needed you for?
And why you ever came over in the first place,
Since you obviously prefer pretty colors to nutrition
And you must have had some notion that I would one day realize,
That you've never kept anything alive in your life,
And you don't even have a yard.
Nov 9, 2010
Nov 9, 2010 at 6:55 PM UTC
Watch the trees regrow
Their leaves in the spring and wish
You could join them
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 7:36 PM UTC
The Plains of Africa
when you touch down here on the African plains
you can almost immediately feel the pains
of a life that grew from nothing at all
greatness achieved but still the blood stains
cultures of complexity started here
somehow they understood but still there was fear
they created technology science and a division of labor
and learned somehow to live with their neighbor
they created transportation writing and math
they started it all they created the path
without their skills in agricultural tricks
we could have never grown just chewing on sticks
and though it all started here so long ago
this area suffers did they forget what they know
this is where my future all began
here was the beginning the beginning of man
we owe it all to these beings so humble and caring
we need to find an end to all of their despairing
it seems funny that they were the ones stretching the brain
and now they need educating when there is no rain
infestation of some kind has continually been a thorn
either insects or bacteria for even the newborn
yes they were our beginning the life that we know
we owe our tears and support to help them regrow
David Nelson ....
Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 6:31 PM UTC
I hear the world is full of pain,
Flooding, terror, acid rain;
Music, theatre, laughs and art,
Whiskey, coffee, beer and darts,
Rainbows, glaciers, hiking trails;
Rare Pepes and EPIC FAILs,
Overwatch and Pokemon Go;
Donald Trump and Bernie Bros;
Dreams, and Drugs, and Rock n' Roll,
Dharma, Love, and the eternal soul,
The Holy Quran and the Higgs boson
Tajwid in Geneva, QFT in Tehran.
Yet day by day I sit and type
Edit, grep, compile, pipe
All that a system smoothly might run
Ashes to Ashes, Zero to One
'''
npm install; grunt &; restart nginx
docker run -d me/interests; pkill sleep; pkill ***
nice 14 nutrition; rm /etc/cron.daily/exercise
pkill -STOP judgment; scp foodler:'**/{burger,fries}' ~
'''
It's rather ironic that this metal you see,
Seems quite a better multitasker than me
Whereas It stops its world to switch one task for others
My open descriptors always overflow my buffers
Whereas it take new patches with a simple 'apt-get'
My resolve for upgrades I quite often forget
And when its health checks fail, we regrow the ASG
But my self won't reboot. et memento mori.
Aug 6, 2016
Aug 6, 2016 at 8:35 PM UTC
In a spur of curiosity, I read about Vincent Van Gogh
His life, death, and all that lay between
And in stumbling upon the knowledge of my sudden interest
I see that his last words were,
"This sadness will last forever."
The ache of them resonates all too well and
an overwhelming sensation of familiarity fills the cavity of my chest
I think about all the things that could of been said and
decide none of them would probably be sufficient to save him
But I still mourn the unspoken
If only I had the chance to tell him
No, it won't
If only I knew him to say
No, it doesn't
This sadness is not permanent, I promise
Yes it remains,
Yes it is still there always, living comfortably in the shadows of our figures
But you learn to see past it
I wish I could tell him that permanence does not exist
That it is an idea man-made
And we are simply living for today
It's funny, how someone who created so much beauty could not find any in himself
In painting a future, ending seemed more promising than hope
So in that wheat field his chest kissed the bullet of a relvover
And he walked patiently towards death
Van Gogh,
Didn't anybody tell you it gets better?
Didn't anyone say that even if it doesn't, you can?
Van Gogh,
Don't you know that nothing lasts forever?
That we are merely existing to make it to tomorrow?
Vincent,
I know this world can be cruel
I know that eventually flowers turn to dust and the sky turns black at dusk but even you could see stars in darkness
You made an entire galaxy out of the night and we are still finding ways to admire its beauty
Vincent,
I know the sun can be harsh some days
I know the air can be too cold for motivation on others
I know sometimes getting out of bed can be a battle with yourself, seeming impossible
I know how it feels to be heavy with the weight of too much
And I am sorry that you couldn't bare it all
But this sadness wasn't made to last forever
Flowers will regrow and bloom again even brighter than before
The moon still shines against a dim canvas
Winter is only temporary and the gloom will pass when the seasons change
Before you know it spring will be here
I wish you could have stayed to see it come,
It is the only certainty in this eternity.
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 3:02 PM UTC
I am a mother
Although I’ve never carried a child in my womb
Or pushed life out of me
I am a mother,
Although I’ve never had any children who came from my blood
Or called me mom
I am a mother,
To the cat I care for so tenderly I would lay my life to save his
Or the little bugs and spiders I let out into the garden after
Storms have brought them in
I am a mother
To my parents, who needed me to grow up and be strong enough
That I could take care of them, and provide a safe place for them to regrow
I am a mother
To my family when they've needed a shoulder to cry on, or a hug
during times where life only seemed to hurt
I am a mother
To the team, I listen to and support when they have nowhere else to go
I am a mother
To the stranger that only needs to see a smile as we cross paths
I am a mother
To the lover that never had one
I am a mother
To the sister, I ferociously protect and will forever do so
I am a mother
To the boss who needs to know he’s is doing a good job
I am a mother
To the community that needs a voice to stand alongside them
I am a mother
To the friends who know I will always be there
I am a mother
To nature as I thank her for the beauty she is
I am a mother
To the world, who might never notice me but who I will love regardless
I am a mother
Although I’ve never carried a child in my womb
Or pushed life out of me,
I am a mother.
Mar 29, 2021
Mar 29, 2021 at 6:33 AM UTC
I pluck the weeds out of my head every season,
All the bad, the negative thoughts, the unhealthy habits,
so the flowers have room to grow.
Until the next season,
when the weeds regrow and I must pluck them again.
I grab the base, pulling up the roots,
Without roots, they won’t grow back.
They do.
Apr 12, 2022
Apr 12, 2022 at 3:26 PM UTC
.
*A shepherd gently tends his flocks,
on the night of the Autumn equinox.
Patiently guarding his wayward sheep,
as the Oak King prepares for sleep.
And the Holly King from slumber wakes,
with solemnity his tired head he shakes.
Then joyous laughter he openly roars,
his half year reign once more restored.
Guiding all Nature to a bed of rest,
to energise, regrow, is his duty quest.
Bringing his peace and tranquility serene,
for the comfort of his bridal Queen.
For She is Nature, there all year long,
loved and celebrated in many a song.
No greater love could She invoke,
her two wild husbands, Holly and Oak.
So Oak pens his warm Summer verse,
and Holly writes of cold Winters' worst.
Her heart draped upon their royal thrones,
bringing joy to this eternal Game of Poems.*
© Pagan Paul (03/10/17)
Oct 3, 2017
Oct 3, 2017 at 3:42 PM UTC
The Plains of Africa
when you touch down here on the African plains
you can almost immediately feel the pains
of a life that grew from nothing at all
greatness achieved but still the blood stains
cultures of complexity started here
somehow they understood but still there was fear
they created technology science and a division of labor
and learned somehow to live with their neighbor
they created transportation writing and math
they started it all they created the path
without their skills in agricultural tricks
we could have never grown just chewing on sticks
and though it all started here so long ago
this area suffers did they forget what they know
this is where my future all began
here was the beginning the beginning of man
we owe it all to these beings so humble and caring
we need to find an end to all of their despairing
it seems funny that they were the ones stretching the brain
and now they need educating when there is no rain
infestation of some kind has continually been a thorn
either insects or bacteria for even the newborn
yes they were our beginning the life that we know
we owe our tears and support to help them regrow
David Nelson ....
Aug 31, 2011
Aug 31, 2011 at 9:31 AM UTC
Cloaked eyes of white
Open throat cries dry
Echoed padding cadence
Panting tremours
Unable to get away
The streets are unsafely empty
Equality to walk
No illiberal clocking in
I have a cogent life
Will not cede segregation
The struggle, snapped the stem
Stole the stamen from my flower
Shook my pollenous verve
Scattered my soulful scent
Destroyed my confidence to regrow
Sneering the lonesome wolf
Crushes the very flowers that will save it
Without heart of virtue
Praying on those they cannot have
Betrays their own soul without anguish
Proto-stalkers seek help
Decant your desires
Throw off your fur coat
Open up and do not venture into a nightmare
Your Samaritan will always befriend and guide
Lay down your sword
Change the parochial pathway
Magnanimous now live
Fields of flowers beckon
Don't be a brick in the wall
Embrace the feminine essence
Yield flowers their blossom
Steer the legislation to counter the wolven spread
More tulips amongst thorny parliamentarians
Educate the children and those in power
Mar 14, 2021
Mar 14, 2021 at 7:39 PM UTC
As I look back on the past year
I realize my mistakes
are blessings in disguise
Falling from the skies
like the leaves off of trees
to be buried by Winter's snow
and in the Spring
to regrow
making my brilliance shine
when it becomses Summer time
and when its Fall
again
the leaves will fall again
creating new blessings from above
for future mistakes to come.
Feb 28, 2012
Feb 28, 2012 at 11:11 PM UTC
Two ducks quack a lover's fued
Coffee steam is rising well away
From he that burns here in
Ashen lava pools my hand
Falls in and melts away only
To regrow holding a snowdrop
Unscathed by wrath which boils
She turns about and says speaking
Low to threat 'go then' I can
Only offer the flower which melts
In the act. I entreat the flames retreat
The belly of the world spits souls
Into fresh bodies morphet anew
From old, not so but middle-aged
Sacred **** lived beyond the reach
Of time that ticks and claws
All downward were it not for life
Anew time might win.
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 9:37 AM UTC
So, next week, I lose a limb.
I have it marked on my calendar in neat, purple letters.
Humans, unlike starfish, spiders, or Dr. Curt Connors, cannot regrow limbs.
They can be amputated or removed surgically to prevent disease,
But this is different.
You see, this Friday, when I lose my limb, I won't get a replacement limb.
And the disease, if you can call it a disease, well,
As far as I can see, it'll spread faster than ever.
Have you ever loved someone so much that they become a part of you?
First of all, it's very unhealthy.
Second of all, it's the most wonderful feeling in the world.
Well, if you've ever felt this way toward someone else, it's safe to say that someday, you will start to think of them as an actual part of you- like your other half.
The more time you spend with them, the more you'll read their expressions, pick up on the nuances of their speech and expression, the more you'll open up to them and sync up to their moods and habits-
It's frightfully parasitic.
And when they leave, it's like losing a part of yourself-
After all, you've put so much into each other,
So much that you'll never get back.
I'm in love, and it's beautiful and terrifying.
My love is a part of me that's getting ripped off this Friday.
You see, he's moving three hours away.
He's a year older, and he's going to college.
I'm more scared than he is about it.
Luckily, we're only separated by physical distance.
But honestly- you know that gag in movies where the villains tie the protagonist limb by limb to four horses and send the horses galloping off in four different directions?
That.
It feels like that.
This Friday, I'm losing a limb- for now,
I'm losing him.
So, soon, I'll have to learn to live as just one part of a whole.
That is, until Thanksgiving break...
Aug 14, 2016
Aug 14, 2016 at 2:45 AM UTC
Achia,
That's the name of my town.
There's a path surrounded by yellowing bushes that go green in autumn,
Brown in the harmattan,
that joins Achia to Jato-aka town.
At the head of this path is a junction
You'll notice another path to your left here.
And that our own path is to the right of it
I call it our own because that's the only path followed by the villagers.
The other hasn't been in use in recent years
You can see the undergrowth,
Bent and unrepentant,
Daring you to trample on it and watch it regrow
Everytime we use the right, i always wonder
Where would you lead me to, Left?
Are you like many of our life's (in)decisions,
The unexplored choice?
The one that time will eventually erase?
So I've decided,
That the next time we get to that point
I'll take the road less favored
And see the quiet secrets that it has had to maintain over the years.
And i hope that that will make all the difference to it.
Mar 18, 2018
Mar 18, 2018 at 11:59 PM UTC
Flowing under winter
Is the warmth of a fading love
That once was on the surface
But now struggles to be shone
Cold hearts once bled red
Broken, they needed repair
Grey was too stiff for the aching heart
So blue was the color of the broken part
But Jotunheim and its giants can be melt
By the prowess of Asgard and its heroes
As the icy, depressive cover has formed
After the heart had been healed
So, many times passion becomes a fuel
To extinguish the fear of the person who never knows
And this gas perpetually ignites
And the water that once thawed the rime
Won’t remain covered, buried under ice
That is why love always resurfaces
With the heat of hope and will
Querying if the person the heart beats for
Doesn’t has her beating in sync, still
But like a snowflake, love falls in pieces
To find a place to regrow, as fear overpowers the fuel
Where memory and reluctance troubles the loving soul
While life seems dull to his aching state, as time never ceases
My appreciation for her burns wild
Maybe its youth that feeds the flames
Or the personality bonded to her beautiful name
But, which is enough to love her, the air that I inhale
Will soon be few as I drown in the water, doubting if “we” will ever be true
Jan 14, 2021
Jan 14, 2021 at 8:59 AM UTC
Hope.
We all need this. For many it seems to be the only way that they can cope.
It pushes us through the dark, helps us to see the light.
It coddles us when we are scared at night.
It is the beacon that we are always aiming for, big and bright.
Sometimes you may feel that it is shrinking, this is only a natural way of thinking.
But the thing you must try to keep in mind is that so is a renewable source.
An unstoppable force.
It will continually regrow.
You may ask me how but my answer is always simple: "I do not know."
It's just a feeling.
That aids human healing.
It is the medicine that I find most appealing.
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 9:26 AM UTC
As we consume our crust down to the core
and bring our soils to decay,
we securely watch in trance from our luxurious homes.
Ignorant to the state of our true residence.
Concrete slabs go over forgotten paths that could once regrow,
now only to be replaced with concerns for indulgent behaviors and the ease of convenience.
Leaving us entangled in a web of super highways, leading us
back and forth on a monotonous pursue
to gluttonize any peace left that continues to thrive.
Over excess and leave non for the rest.
God Bless America.
Jul 18, 2011
Jul 18, 2011 at 10:51 PM UTC
I guess what I'm trying to say, is I want to take a bite out of your soul like an apple.
want to leave a bite mark in who you are,
to give my antibodies to help fight infection,
build a scab over the tooth mark
want to regrow
slightly darker scar tissue over the bite mark I left there.
Leaving a little island on the orb.
I guess what I'm saying is
I want to mechanically be a part of you
want to digest who you are to help fight diseases in my body.
wanna take you like a vitamin
wake up every morning to take my daily dose
like a nice clean bite out of an Apple.
Wispy Orb of you. your essence
then stick it right back in your chest.
with a tiny little tooth mark indent left by my bite.
ready to heal where I left it.
I want you to take a bite right outta my soul too,
want the nutrients of who we are to coarse through our bodies
repair the bite marks.
leave scars on us.
Dark little landmarks so we never forget the bite.
we both love kissing scars
so much that why wouldn't we want our own personal landmarks
i guess what I'm saying is, I'm allergic to apples.
but i'm not allergic to people.
If I run out of allergy pills and vitamins
I might as well get my daily dose of happiness.
i'll be ****** if you aren't my prescribed dose of happiness
no doctor handed me papers or charged me a fee
i don't have an insurance plan to help me pay for you.
but at least I can't run out
so i don't need to worry about faxing my doctor to renew my pharmacy pickup
I guess what I'm trying to say is
if my personality was an apple I would be allergic too it, but I'd let you take a bite.
I guess what I'm trying to say is:
I already have a scar for you, and you already kiss it.
Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 12:43 AM UTC