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"ripes" poems
I am an agriculturist I plowed the field I tilled the soil I planted the seeds. Until the seed cracked And life begun I watered the plants And applied fertilizer. Now the leaves are ready for photosynthesis To transform water and carbon dioxide into food. Insects gathered both beneficial and harmful But God is in control. One day i saw a fruit It was a perfect fruit. I waited until it ripes I harvested it and fed the world. It was all because of you Lord.
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Nov 1, 2017
Nov 1, 2017 at 8:22 AM UTC
I am an Agriculturist
Can you feel the winds blowing? Can you feel the moon pull the tides? No, No I really can’t. I walk down a dirt path through a certain wood, alone, Wearing courage…and folly, for the Laestryogons Are of another land, far from here, where Pythos slithers, But that’s of another matter, another matter completely. Regardless, recant and reiterate [here you must leave all wariness Behind, all trace of cowardice must be extinguished.] Well I relinquish my stronghold over to the others. It may be insidious to some but I must ask, Why the stripes, why the stripes? They did not unify all different types. The apple is useless after it ripes. I think I’ll sit and drink tea till the sun sets, and repeat. And when I’m stretched out, stretched out thin I will sit and gaze and grin, At a passing cloud, a squirrel, a tree, At the warbling from the aviary.
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Mar 8, 2012
Mar 8, 2012 at 11:17 PM UTC
It’s A Dense Wood We’re Walking Through
Running trees and sun rays, wind brushing and pressing on to my skin Saline taste, that will be with me, always. But a genuine smile will be a sin. Yes, I am almost there, where i found myself, where i found them crystals, so rare. Before that i was hidden in the shelf. My sorrow and pain will wash away, the second I touch that ground. The power of the mask will be tamed , and the masked people will be astound. Loving people and their vibes. The epoch of my past will be revived. The fruit of jollity, again, ripes And the agony resigns But something scares my heart. The goodbyes. Will I be able to start again after the depart? Would I have to, again, live in lies? No! My mind is ready to take it all. To absorb the pain of the departure. It will sure be a hard fall, but it will merely be a fracture. So, yes, I'm here, where i found myself, where I found them, my rare crystals, who pushed me out of the shelf. But the departure will hurt me with a pistol.
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May 22, 2017
May 22, 2017 at 3:15 PM UTC
The Place
*Platter platter, raindrops sink as I breathe along. Like time do clouds melt, revealing the dark of the dawn. Grey in the blue as dreams fly, the clock haunts the night. Memories, like a two legged throne, feed some devils in disguise. Cold, as the sleep ripes, questions finally meet destiny. The throne now sees no might, light remains to be my darkest mystery.*
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Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 9:45 AM UTC
Day?
I Travelled the weary tribes of willow, mellow the climes of starry up above fellow; the waning grace shined with no diffidence, well oh well the white berry ripes in confidence Follow the path which goes to the lake of the wild, One I spend as a child, some thousand nights staring at the Argos with starry eyes, painted and clothed by the skies of thousand nights with pearly whites, soul tainted and clotted, one cries and dies for the beauty is of no mild
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Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 8:37 PM UTC
The lake