"replanting" poems
these tempting and tumultuous times,
when the insect bite of attraction nibbles
your cheek, and first blood thickens with
intrigued,
the blood heated by, with a bewildering new sun's glow,
then bubbling boiling
over
with phantasmagorical fantasies,
and one endeavors to coax, to tease,
to preen, to adduce how best to ******
this persona, imagined or imaginary to be,
whispers a silent "no thankee''
and first bloom curls into a deathly brown doom,
you,
chastened by amorous hastening so quick evolving,
and the hither in come here, withers to a ghostly silencing,
one wonders, reminisces, and sadly recalls then forgets
the entreaties so eagerly received, how one wants to be
deceived,
for the once lay-buried-arousals now well recalled,
and quick to appear, faster to dismiss disappear,
and disaster cones and goes with light-speed velocity,
having fling,
now flung,
having crushed,
now crushing,
you caught laughing at your self,
still evolving long past the time
for youthful deceptions and silly indiscretions,
but not unhappily, for it was an acknowledgement
that good love poetry yet within resides, alas, alas,
it reciprocity seeds need replanting, and that notion
is quite pleasing...
Sep 13, 2025
Sep 13, 2025 at 9:00 AM UTC
you can hear the echo via Zizek the Slovak,
well, attire me in slavic myths and
i'll be mumbling purrs in mud too
for a helium bubble to become a comedian,
i know a jittery ******* addiction
when i see one...
if one thing the catholic schooling system
taught me was how to avoid
sniffing glue and how to recognise
a Freudian apostle - still, with all
the hippy **** you'd think
sniffing glue was what Ukrainian existentialism
prescribed with paracetamol,
catholic education just said: no no.
**** me it's the late 90s and we're talking
post-Chernobyl antics...
but that's how i see the left, leftist politics,
the right
utilises prefixes and suffixes in the
old stance of simple pre- pro-
anti-
qua-
-so so...
the left? oh they're right in there...
their prefixes are
Marxist-
liberal-
Hegelian-
whatnot...
they don't
use abstract prefixes,
their prefixes
are concrete,
they want the porridge in their mouth
to ensure a slur that never comes,
among a range of onomatopoeias they argue
from the perspective of the hushed and ushered crowd,
via one observation: Stalin clapped after a speech
to enjoin with the crowd, a real big brother,
****** never clapped, a sitting-duck method;
i'm not advocating, but by a proxy placebo dynamo
experimenting, it's called experimenting with
thought rather than practising with will,
former no chance of footstep evaluation for
cult status imitable -
the left intellectual
has no rubric of thought concerning to and fro -
it has to be concrete layered and a shut off
perfect architecture without fault -
it can't be what it is -
con-
has to be conservative
pro-
has to be socialist
you once said legitimate
transparency - but you didn't say legislation -
well, the left understood it as legislation,
the right too wanted legitimate transparency -
the green party said we could have neither
but could have the replanting of a thousand
oak trees with a Robin Hood placard on the first
oak tree replanted in Sherwood Forest...
b. ~ d. ~... shot ~100 bent arrows into a bullseye -
hurrah! hurrah! maid marian lost her virginity
too! to a broomstick rather than maradona's
fingernail toothpick!
at an essex market the cockney shouts (out of
place): *** yer courgettes! *** yer courgettes!
ta fa a pudding! ta fa a pudding!
*** yer cucumbers! tooth firth 'un!
Apr 20, 2016
Apr 20, 2016 at 9:50 PM UTC
To the woman who scolded me for moving on with my life after my assault at age 13:
"Your life didn't skip a beat, you went to school and hung out with friends and everything," is what she told me.
Yes my life did not skip a beat when I was entirely uprooted.
What happens to a plant if it is uprooted? Can a plant survive if it is pulled up out of the soil?
I have found that just as with any other situation involving injury, there as some steps you need to take in order to repair it.
First you need to assess the damage. Broken stems and wilting leaves are obviously very noticeable symptoms of distress. What is important is the condition of the main stem and the roots. This will determine whether or not the plant can survive. The sooner you can take emergency steps the better.
The next step is performing first aid. The plant benefits from little additional trauma as possible. Torn branches need to be cut back, to avoid any additional tearing. Keep in mind that any cutting done should be gentle and done with sanitized tools to prevent disease in the already weakened plant.
One of the final steps is replanting. The plant can now be replanted even deeper than it was before, and watering it regularly can reduce its stress.
Lastly, monitoring the plants success is important. The key to restoring a plant that was uprooted is patience while waiting for it to adjust through a period called transplant shock. Note that the situation may look worse before it looks better. Large leaves may wither or drop. Transplant shock can last several months or even seasons. Provide persistent care to the plant, and do not judge it until the next season of growth, usually during spring. It is usually worth the wait.
So, yes. I did not skip a beat.
I did not skip a beat after I was ***** and my life became uprooted because the sooner you can take emergency steps, the better. I learned how to replant myself instead of letting my life wither away. And do you know what? It was surprisingly worth the wait.
Dec 12, 2016
Dec 12, 2016 at 6:46 PM UTC
You found me
Heart of abuse turned peaceful
Eyes of disgust enlightened
You winged me into security,
then played off my vulnerability like a scavenger
Peeling my walls down like flesh from a carcass
You reeled me in like the catch of the day
hook attached, you left me dangling with the hope of repair
As you caught a one way to California
The days that followed brought your beasts with them
Gloomy deceitful minions of broken trust
Your "love" had evaporated just as quick as the oregon wind blows
Making me regret every ounce of compassion I'd given you
despising the sincerity I had offered
Regurgitating every lie you'd bestowed upon me
However, with every passing day my memory of you fades
No longer do I cry over your cowardly decisions
There is no hate or grudge held within my soul
Soon enough I realised I'd never loved you
I was faking contempt with every kiss, every hug, every word
& my heart secretly craved your absence
months have passed without heartache
I've doused my wounds in gasoline and set your memory ablaze
regained that fire in my eyes that you once so carelessly saturated with tears
There are many that patiently waited for my return
Finally my golden emeralds are cleaned of deceit and deception
I'm done searching, waiting, and hoping for my happily ever after
I am my happy ending
I'm the best architect and gardener I know
Continuously rebuilding myself after demolition
& Replanting my roots to fit my desires
Repairing cracks, sowing holes, stemming leaves from ashes
I've been reborn.
Aug 6, 2013
Aug 6, 2013 at 6:20 PM UTC
Replanting a Cactus can be tricky
where children cannot see the problem
Prickles in nature come in all shapes and sizes
and we lose the moral battle, often
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 9:37 AM UTC
Deep into the rainforest, a struggle to survive
From insects to leaved trees, wanting all to thrive
The habitat of animals, species all around
Living things a-plenty, crawling on the ground
The four main layers play a different role
The bio-diversity forms part of the whole
The dark forest floor and the understory
Shorter plants existing, many bugs to see
The vibrant middle layer, yet forms the canopy
Climbing the emergent, just like a monkey
The strong plant materials, helps to build a home
For people of the Amazon, food that has been grown
Tropical regions, Equator ever near
A moderate climate, giant trees are here
Forests on a mountain, misty all around
Coated in a moss, such an eerie surround
North and South America and Oceania
Asia and Europe, as well as Africa
There’s a cycle of life, yet deforestation
Affects the homes of animals for plantation
Removing ecosystems, can cause erosion
Droughts as well as flooding, less cohesion
The modern ways of man affects vegetation
Contributing to a silent devastation
Replanting, recycling, assisting with crops
Steps of preservation quench like raindrops
The precious seeds and life, of which can be found
Yet, it’s not too late to turn this world around
Written by Geraldine Taylor ©
Jun 14, 2017
Jun 14, 2017 at 12:36 PM UTC
~
~ for my knowing friends~
~~~
so simple the notion,
that healing's potent potions
are non-directional portents
coming at you
like a Bob Dylan, Avettt Brothers,
rhythm and rhyme,
tunes injected from the outside knowing,
from the first time
that they were residing inside,
all the time
in, on and under the skin
the conflicted battle rages between the
coursing forces of
I believe
and the low grade infection, incurable return of
faithless disbelief and irreconcilability
a parental entry knowing,
despite different routes of administration,
there is no pharmacology for a limb lost,
any prosthesis healing supplanted
from without,
never achieves
anything approaching next to normal
*but from within,
the heart can heal itself,
trying a natural bypass,
doing its imperfect best
to correct the uncorrectable,
resigned to accept the unacceptable*
the slight edge felt from
cutting a garden's new growth for replanting
an act of belief in the future,
witnessing a sunset's nightly color sky's return rebirthing,
knowing, admitting to oneself,
that miraculously better than all ever seen prior are
medicines that come from the outside,
and inward bound daily injections,
they are:
*"healing, from the inside out...
just as it was meant to be!"*
Nov 26, 2016
Nov 26, 2016 at 10:41 AM UTC
a quote from Samuel Johnson, or Dr. Johnson, the storied eighteenth-century poet and essayist who once said:
“The sole aim of writing is to enable readers a little better to enjoy life, or a little better to endure it.”
<>
our “sole aim,”
Oh what burden the doctor places on our shoveling pens,
to be earthmovers
that dig trenches, uproot earth,
that lies and hides our faces, entombing our hearts,
eliciting and erupting emotions that cannot be contained,
nor controlled,
indeed, deserving of replanting in
our shared selves, transplanted into a communal flowerpot
of our multi bursting colored commonality
lift my composing tools,
peer into
winter blue skies guarding the towers of
Manhattan isle, longing for guidance.
lusting for specificity of direction,
how,
how, to easy our burdens
with carefully selected and
careless wonderful words,
words that deal out caring uncarefully,
with a graceful recklessness of abandon
that open thy tears,
lift up the edges of your lips,
so that my duality is your duality,
the burden shared.
the burden eased…
to cry and laugh simultaneous,
lift and lighten,
a momentary distraction,
a cut flower in our vase,
that lasts but brief,
yet with each gaze repeated and
repeatedly,
well stains us with
eyes uplifting
Feb 4, 2024
Feb 4, 2024 at 8:37 AM UTC
I put my roots in warmth
and what is comfortable
sending them down
thick and deep into the soil
only to be stopped
by the desires of others
uprooting and replanting me
over and over
while my leaves wither
curling in on themselves
for dislike of
change.
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 2:18 PM UTC
Awkward girl
Tries to keep up
Awkward world
Says never enough
Says create new oceans
With tears too heavy to *****
Says create new paths
With roads of vision, take rough patches of torn decisions,
keep tending, keep mending
Keep filling these cracks
Nourish these conditions
Maintain stable mind, steady heart
Says there is growth in replanting
New pots for greater expansion
Says transfers are still modes of transportation
Just minor shifts to new locations
Says just keep moving
Says awkward girl will never be enough in awkward world
So create a world of your own
Apr 12, 2016
Apr 12, 2016 at 8:46 PM UTC
Somedays, I feel like I sinking.
I can fill it in my ribs, as each one breaks from the heaviness of my heart.
I feel the flowers I planted inside my soul, dying.
Each petal slowly falling, and cracking from the lack of nourishment.
Tears fill my eyes, and run down my face like a heavy creek stream.
I fear the power of my emotions.
I fear losing insight, for life is so beautiful.
Life is precious, easily ticked away by time.. yet, makes us feel like we've lived centuries with the wisdom we gain through our darkest corners.
Im holding onto my sanity; my strength.
I'm letting myself reep away, so that I can grow again.
My roots will flourish; my soul will be crisp.
Until then, I'm only a vessel, a floating soul, trying to find its way back home again.
Oh, the thoughts over coffee and ticking of my mothers clock.
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 12:57 PM UTC
How do I write all these emotions flooding my thoughts that I should drown and my body be held captive by its sea. You woke my heart that did not beat until the moment in which you called my name and brought oxygen into it. My days were dark and lifeless before you and you brought them to light with life. The moment the storm came I should have recognized my folly, oh how foolish my little pathetic heart was, enraptured with the promises of your love. I only wish then that I would’ve lain frozen in the rivers love than to have tasted the sweetest fruits from the world’s best cup. How could you water your rose garden with so much patience and tender care, but tear it from its native soil and sell it to another man in the name of replanting? I did not want this. I did not ask for this. All my days I spent wishing and longing for someone I imagined to be just like you. I never wished all those long and lonely nights to become a prisoner trapped inside her mind, and paralyzed the moment I realized my blindness in love.
–Love the brokenhearted girl’s truth.
Jul 29, 2016
Jul 29, 2016 at 1:29 AM UTC
The coast shakes
quakes
falls to crumbles.
People cry
over those who die,
souls stolen
in the wake of earth's destruction.
Alas
love pulls us together,
replanting roots unbroken;
we begin this life anew.
But.
Lucky are the soulless
who've left this world unseen
as it's my single skeleton
that lingers under me
(I was your last act)
(a tragedy scene).
In the wake of your destruction
I'm ***** and unclean,
And because of this,
I shall know no other end,
than to hopelessly exist ---
as there's
no reconstruction.
no humanity.
Sep 13, 2012
Sep 13, 2012 at 6:23 PM UTC
It's most likely just my ****** disposition
Picking flowers just to watch them wilt
Maybe I've just been wilting
Losing petals and color and life
I can't keep ahold of anything
Possibly just tearing out my own roots so no one else could do it for me
Tired of replanting myself and tired of trying to become acquainted to new soil
Adaptation is ******** and I don't want to play with change anymore but it's so ******* unfortunate how you usually have no choice or say in the matter, it's always so forced
Forced to change or sit in the ruines
And sometimes, I do
Sometimes I stay there until I can't breathe in anymore ash
Ether streaming to my lungs making its home there
Sometimes I stay there long after everyone has left and I sit in it as long as I can
Sometimes I leave before it can happen
Sometimes it never does
I tell myself it would have if I'd have stayed
It would have changed
Maybe it's just my ****** disposition
Telling me that no matter what changes I make
None of them will ever constitute as enough that your heart could ever feel the same as mine
Now it's pounding in my temples telling me that I'm wasting my time
Not enough, unloveable
Not enough for anyone, but you aren't just anyone
You're so much more and I have so much less than most
And then comes the rejection of the thought, the tantrum, the dissociation, the I don't need love, the I'd rather be alone my entire life than deal with the pain of loving someone like there was a knife pressed against me and having them shove it in
I don't need love
But no matter how long that last
I always want yours
Jun 30, 2016
Jun 30, 2016 at 1:55 AM UTC
you think
you can cut me off
for endless weeks
then spring up
and come back to me
whenever you please
like cutting down a tree
and all of its roots
then suddenly
replanting seeds
for a tree that won't
grow back to you
z.f.
Mar 20, 2017
Mar 20, 2017 at 10:20 PM UTC
Have you ever been lost?
Lost to the point where you didn't know which way to look.
Which direction to point your feet? And every street looked the same?
Have you ever lost yourself in a transcendental feeling where you felt that up was down,
And down was up?
A constant wonderment where you couldn't wait for the next moment to come?
A split second that turns into addiction- a moment that feels like your first kiss?
The moment your mouth waters almost out of control,
Wandering about in your garden of thoughts. Replanting every seed. Harvesting the fruit fresh grown by the sun.
Have you ever lost control of your breath?
Hyperventilating into a circumstance where time itself has gotten away
And you weren't at all bothered?
To relive all of the feelings that feel like only yesterday.
Mere seeds that are scattered into the very garden that has become root of where you truly felt your happiest.
A moment where you left your bookmark at home and revised a whole chapter of your favorite book with the biggest smile?
If at all you've ever been this lost, you deserve to be locked inside an insane asylum.
Because most people need a passport to visit the things that truly make them happy
Sep 19, 2017
Sep 19, 2017 at 11:06 AM UTC
Your eyes meet mine
They say mine
Like an anchor burying into my cornea
A window to your heart
You’re mine; I’m yours
But
Mine means
Rewriting
Undoing
Replacing
Replanting
**** I wish the eyes could talk
Dec 3, 2018
Dec 3, 2018 at 2:46 PM UTC