"seedlings" poems
*
What an "ANGELUS" time it is
These times of LOVE
The "SALATS" of the moment
embraces everything around us
Is it the "FAJR" of birds kissing?
Is it the "ASR" of cats stretching?
Is it the "MAGHRIB" of peacocks screams?
Those are the sound of LOVE I suppose
I can see on the cheeks
The wetness of the kiss
That has not dried yet
Who is the LOVE
(BELOVEDz / LOVERz) who causes
The tears swell in the eyes
Of the one who LOVES?
Why is the eagerness to touch
The bare shoulders so enticing?
Why the heart longs to
drown into LOVE
(BELOVEDz / LOVERz) core?
Placing one's face on the lap
The flower smells jasmine rains
Close eyes and experience my LOVE
When I seal your pores with my lips?
Can I sing you lullabies
When you sleep besides me peacefully?
Can I snap a new art sculpture
Out of your hair every morning?
Forget your thoughts
While feeling my LOVE
By being in LOVE with me
Why the words become worthless
When we share
A common breathing between our lips?
Who is listening to the music
Of our heart-beats?
Why do roses rain over us
When we share our chromosomes?
Who are they?
There, below the waterfalls
Behind the mountain caves
The two magical unicorns in LOVE?
Who will pray "TEFILLAH"
When we are in
Ultimate union of LOVE?
Who will "TENEBRAE" our lives
To illuminate our souls?
So that we "THEOPHANY" the
LOVE deity of ONENESS
Now tell me...
Will the clouds answer our LOVE-call?
Will the first ray of sun ever find us?
Will the moon ever illuminate dark lives?
Will the stars sparkle over our springs?
Will the dew drop give birth to seedlings?
To save the cosmos & planet EARTH
Let us embrace into
Single semantic of LOVE
*
Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 12:04 AM UTC
A black crow's darting eyes
spans the wheat field
and an orange pumpkin patch.
She sees
tall grasses of brown
seedlings,
bristling in the wind,
soon to be bushels of grain
and a pumpkin pie that she never savored.
She sits, atop her tree perch,
at times warm and storybook,
hidden by tree branches,
and at times out of harm's way
and infamy.
Her friends, the sun, and clouds in concert,
dancing along.
Her other friends bring alms and smiles.
Life is so good at times.
Down the road sits a mill
next to a waterfall
and a cabin,
with reindeer horns
hanging above the doorway.
She is in her element, happy,
carrying for her nestlings.
Back and forth her parental eyes dart
the hilly fields, a smoked filled chimney, and her babies,
all crawling with sustenance and awe.
Storybook.
A mother feeding a worm to her baby.
Storybook.
Off to her side is not a blind eye
watching her,
scary stick figures of
straw tucked under red shirts and hats,
with a tied tinfoil strips dotting
her eyes and tease.
Scarecrows, cease.
At times life is good nature, hand in hand,
knock on wood.
If only life could be circumspect.
Than darkness filling the light
and a stutter of life.
For a sad page is turned,
pause
... tears.
Then, feathers fall.
Hers.
The sound of a thud.
Silence and tears of her friend's swelling.
A baby's cry, missing her mother.
More orphaned tears.
Who would be this despicable?
On that rogue day.
A kick of a donkey,
an ***
one bad rock on her path,
breaks the air,
as three little elementary kids were walking along
to school.
One, me, with a rock in his hand,
taking aim at her perch
and the death of the black crow's pages.
I confess.
... Bless me, Father, for I have sinned
it has been fifty years since
my last confession ...
a Tom Sawyer-like childhood gone worse.
I repent.
Some fifty years later I think of those first cairns,
including stealing the reindeer horns and milling
my brother and sister's storybook.
Waterfalls
stream tears, and a sorry boat
rowed downstream
sadly
thereafter.
Logan Robertson
7/25/2018
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 6:02 PM UTC
Galaxy gardener sailing a ship,
through endless horizons it makes a trip.
She/he looks into the inky canvas blend,
then scatters some seeds in the spacial rend.
What does await this brave lovely soul,
when we see the universe's gears roll.
Ionizing radiation penetrates through,
while watering can always holds true.
Space turf gingerly shovelled over seeds,
her/his forehead adorned with water beads.
Nitrogenous nutrients now nuzzled into,
the serene slumbering seedlings to be.
Galaxy gardener greets growing greens,
lively lushscious leaves forward leans.
Wormhole worn star systems she/he fixes up,
as does she/he proudly prune her/his wondrous crop.
Many a plant has grown under her/his care,
yet she/he never feasts on the fruits they bear.
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 1:49 AM UTC
There is a place
Where insecurities rule
No one is safe
From the voices that live in the dark recesses
The Kingdom of Insecurities
Walls of confidence crumble
Seedlings of doubt are planted in the gardens of love
Hate lives among love
Flowers of fear grow tall
The fruit of all relationships is rotten
The Kingdom of Insecurities is dark
The lack of light does little to hide
The terror that lurks behind our own eyes
There is no King or Queen of Insecurities
We have no master but our own internal fears
Someone
Anyone
Please help me escape this yolk
Get me out of
The Kingdom of Insecurities
Nov 29, 2016
Nov 29, 2016 at 7:02 AM UTC
When first shower of monsoon
Touched the emotions
Of my innocent heart
Its strings began to ring
Drops of rain began to open
The windows of my heart
And with its tender touch
Heart began to pour out
Pearls of positive thoughts
Now everything seemed positive
Seeds of inspiration
Sowed by a rain shower in my heart
Began to reverberate
Everything now appeared inspirational
Seedlings of love and compassion
Began to germinate and
Fresh winds of peace and humanity
Started blowing in my heart
Monsoon shower roused
A new hope to live and
Left a lasting legacy
Every corner of my heart
Heart bells started ringing exaltation
And raising wave of happiness
Monsoon shower taught the heart
A new art of living
Darkness changed in brightness
The heart began to rejuvenate
The monsoon shower infused
A new life with peace and prosperity
And kindled the lamps off
Bright and prosper tomorrow
(Written by Kishan Negi)
Aug 7, 2016
Aug 7, 2016 at 11:25 AM UTC
In the murky depths of muck and mire
hope flickers in hearts
courageous enough to believe;
sending out ripples in the waters
like a domino effect rewound.
Insignificant seedlings to the cruel eye
filled with light and promise
as yet unseen turned
Fragile sprouts in healing green
reaching up and out
to rest hopes on the water front,
as if to console one another -
we are not alone.
Against all odds, bean of India,
Keep going –
Power through the sluggish resistance
Of this darkened plane.
Though life seems lost in loneliness
Listen closely,
Hear the Whispering rumours of life beyond the deep
Of basking in light and life
beneath the welcoming heat
of a dancing sun.
A triumphant act of faith indeed,
to content oneself with growing,
never really knowing
what lies beyond the darkness.
I weep for you
with joy, O little pocket of hope
as you propel yourself forward -
such strength, such courage
for one who as yet knows not
of that rosey happiness,
that snow white purity
that lies beneath your shell.
I stand in awe of you;
You with your absurd elegant beauty
tracing your journey
accepting it as part of yourself
embracing who you once were.
The original rags to riches tale;
Roots in putrid, ravenous foundations
yet you yourself remain unstained.
The journey every bit as beautiful
as your glorious destination –
a testimony to your essential self.
I see you take up your stance
Front and centre, finally ready
to declare yourself to the world.
Budding beauty of new life
awake! open your eyes, your heart,
you dont have to hide anymore
the world is missing who you are.
And time births healing and growth.
Every flower blooms at her own pace;
Tentatively unfolding - delicate and fragile still
with gentle colours begging will I do?
Caught up in a lighter life
becoming bolder, blessed, nurtured
blooming bright, opened out
hello world, here I am.
Your wary days drowned, you claim your space,
Fill your space,
Make it your own.
The ethereal splendour of your gentle petals
Succeeded only by the loveliness within,
As you build up your legacy of hope
So wonder will not be lost in the falling petals
but made more beautiful still
in the healing gifts,
in nourishing others,
in the gifts you give of yourself
back to the world.
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 5:44 PM UTC
If I could
pinpoint the
exact moment
your breath
touched mine
washed me over
in ocean waves
sea creatures glowing
in delightful recognition
as the seedlings
of connection
shimmied into our being
and, dancing within me
in its own lifeforce
your mind a living,
breathing animal
your heart, purring
and whirring its sacred forces
into my molecular structures
your soul throbbing
in mitochondric pulsing
(*oh what
a delicious vibration
of ribosomes*)
Between us, we hold
the true treasures
close, in frothy
tenderness
a purity of the expanse
of our universe,
swathed in prismatic color
colors that shift,
these fresh hues
for which there are no name
they are lucid and fine-woven
as silk histories
yet deep as earthcore
your eyes, voice
are forever burned
into my own
every day scriptures
that rock my shattered parts
into wholeness
and,
like ancient magic,
I conjure forth
the holy gospel
rising from our bones
every second of
every minute
as our deepest fires
our most secret filth
our murky corners
our darkest hours
we weave into light
brilliant and lustrous
multi-layered in the richest
folds of the earth
and as you place me
upon the shores
of your garland-graced
throne
Now I'm alive in a new
kind of light
and
all I can do
is love
and love
and love
Feb 3, 2018
Feb 3, 2018 at 5:23 PM UTC
Gliding through the fog,
She comes to the clearing,
Bluebells, Bluebells everywhere,
Violets and bluebells,
You can almost hear them ringing,
Ding-a-ling, Ding-a-ling,
The breeze whistles through,
The newly sprouting trees and seedlings,
Sep 25, 2012
Sep 25, 2012 at 12:35 PM UTC
We both have felt like charred trees,
Tearing out each other's roots and
Setting each other's roots on fire.
We've fought
Tooth and nail
Clawing out each other's eyes,
So we can't see.
But today you smiled.
And for once I felt bad.
You were alone friend.
And yet I left you.
I meant to be nice.
But what to say?
Reconciliation.
We need to replant our
Scorched roots
And hope that the seedlings
Sprout in the wake of our
Beautiful disasters.
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 4:56 PM UTC
The freshly severed heads
of dandelions
explode, silently, at the gentle
puff of a child’s breath.
Their hollow stems shed milky tears;
the seedlings fill the air.
Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 4:20 PM UTC
Karma?
I don't adhere to it
But I do believe
We reap what we sow
One cannot expect to have peace
When one has sown nothing but discord
Anymore than one can expect a golden crop of corn
When the planter has actually sown beans
And roots of bitterness will sure grow deep and destructive
When not thoroughly torn out of the ground
For a thriving garden must be rid of invading seedlings
Of anything that does not foster, but fights its growth
To reap an abundant harvest
Sometimes, it is starting all over from scratch
For we've all been guilty of poor gardening
Have failed as farmers to one degree or another
You wanted succulent peaches
But you got shriveled prunes
You wanted wheat
But you got weeds
To produce a healthy garden
The fruit of forgiveness must grow as freely
As wildflowers in a field
Row upon row of compassion and love
An orchard of plenty for the desperate in need
Is the most rewarding harvest to reap
It will quench the terrible thirst
And satisfy the yearning soul
Aug 26, 2012
Aug 26, 2012 at 7:39 PM UTC
The flowers are exceptionally cold this season
The rain leaves much to be desired
Mr. & Mrs Sunflower are expecting seedlings.
Good old sounds of pitter-patter on the mud;
"Delve deep little ones - for the earth is rich and good".
Standing two meters tall
Where did I leave me shovel?
Grannies dead and buried,
Grandad he went to war.
Yes, in our house, like a bees -nest
There's honeydew; it feeds us
Gosh, I am so very tired
I need to take a rest
Lying here - just catch my breath
Let Mother Nature do the rest
R.I.P as they will say
One day upon my grave
Lest we pray; behold, my children laugh
And rise again shall I,
Through the wonders of an age old myth
Of time and evolution - life!
Now praise the Lord my soul to give
And keep me warm inside
A glow of peace in troubled times
My memories, a myth
God Bless You!
© all rights are reserved B M Coldwell
Oct 13, 2011
Oct 13, 2011 at 8:34 AM UTC
The urgent care is the nursery
Where I choose my seeds with thought.
The doctor is the gardener
Who knows how to fix what I’ve wrought.
She sows the seeds inside my skin,
Yet not with a trowel or ***
She uses a needle and surgical thread,
With budding knots lined up in a row.
Then she leaves me with my tidy ground
And some knowledge on how I should care
For the lined up plot she’s left to me,
Whose potential I’m required to bear.
The deep rivet I slashed into my skin
Is where the seedlings take root.
The blood from my veins keeps them moist
As the new blossoms stand resolute.
But when the weather grows dark and dreary,
My sprouts need cover from the cold.
So I bundle them up with jeans and sweats
To protect them and let them take hold.
But despite the layers I pile atop,
The small spiny blooms poke through.
I run my fingers back and forth,
And marvel at how fast they grew.
Then after they’ve grown for fourteen days,
I return to the nursery at last.
The gardener plucks and prunes and picks
‘Til the wounds and the blooms come to pass.
So now the perennials have passed us by,
And the sprouts have been taken to bin.
The wound that watered my seedlings’ through,
Has left but a scar on my skin.
Jan 23, 2022
Jan 23, 2022 at 11:20 AM UTC
When you're around
Someone slips down the thermostat
Plays it like a violin
Drifting a decent toward
The most poignant Minor cord.
I feel lost within myself
Like an island watching a beautiful ship
Sail by without stopping.
And yet-
You leave and it aches;
Hurts like the thud of pulse
Behind a ripening bruise...
Feels as though my heart is about to
Rend my ribs and squelch
Painfully though the cracks
To slither away in your general direction.
In your absence
I realize that simple things
Can grow into necessity.
Tiny seedlings who take root
Can somehow cross time to become
A redwood with roots so deep
The foundation of the earth is never the same
When it falls.
Air is everywhere
And yet when its gone
Beneath tidal waves
It's more precious than gold;
Riches mean nothing when you're drowning.
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 1:12 PM UTC
You know who you are
Bruised Peaches
Those hit, hidden
Shamed
Belittled and bitten
By the very people we loved most
Mocked
For staying with the bearers of our
Bruises
We warrior spouses
Some of the peaches are lucky
we rolled from the pain baskets
Others have to stay for seedlings
This particular peach
After years of bruises
Nearly got squished between the fingers
of a bruise bearer
And I'm bitter mush
But I'm still whole
And all the while
He whispered,
I love you, I love you little peach
He gave me a seedling
She grew
and with her
My knowledge grew
It took the kingsmens axe
To cut me from that dead tree
But thank God
This peach, is free
~A
Apr 20, 2017
Apr 20, 2017 at 8:16 AM UTC
It's not the time of dandelions;
they've all been blown away;
those fragile fragments now remind
the shooting stars of day.
And though the seedlings blown away seem gone;
they float as static light and air along
as pieces of a never ending earth –
a universe recycling its dearth.
All matter is
and always is.
A dandelion
may be his
smile. And think – drink water from your sink –
it may be reimagined stars you drink.
Aug 7, 2012
Aug 7, 2012 at 1:11 AM UTC
Draw the warmth off of every person you should meet , each and every soul , hold a seashell to your ear and listen to the ocean , blow a kiss to the past and present , make a wish , flurry dandelion seedlings across a green field .. I pray for you to receive great imagination , my dear child , love with all your heart, be thankful as you lie in bed each night , dream of adventure and tall tales , puppy dogs and honeybees , sand dollars at the beach , exploring high mountains , climbing Chestnut Trees ...
Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 12:13 PM UTC
**** off mankind,
And give the Earth a chance!
Nature might find
In her inheritance
The seedlings of a race
Less infinitely base.
3.5k
i tried to overlook
but like seedlings, you germinated
roots around my phalanges (like a dandelion)
from where we last touched.
over time and frigid winter weather, the roots
spread. around my metacarpals, intertwined
between my ulna and radius, all the way up
to my humerus and scapula.
by the spring, flowers sprouted just above my
collarbones, embracing my mandible.
little wilted blue petals surrounding me in my bed
each sunrise, but by noon, new petals already have
attached themselves to the receptacle.
by summer, i pluck their petals for amusement. as
they drift away in the breeze i can't help but to
remember you. us. we. and another thing i haven't
determined is whether you have forgotten me
or not.
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 7:39 PM UTC
~~~=<♡>=~~~
In the morning of a
Breezey mauve-pink air
in the peace in a time of silent prayer
in the breath of a
newborn child's sleep
there are memories
we will always keep
when a mother first holds her child
in the strength of a mustang
running wild
in the hush of an ocean's
silent depths
there are memories
We will never forget
eagles fly
and soar on lofty wings
infants cry when their
time of life begins
seedlings grow
from the fall of gentle rains
these are things we know
but can we fully explain?
in the rise of a harvest moon
in the scent of a rose
in fullest bloom
in the grace of a
dancer's swirling form
then our senses make us
glad we're born
in the flames of the setting sun
in softness of night that's
just begun
in the lights of the pinpricked sky
there are times we pause
to think and ponder why?
breezes blow
and yet are never seen
there's a mind
that can only think a dream
can you touch the light
of falling stars
these are things we know
but can we prove they are?
in the roar of a breaking wave
we are kept from the
cradle to the grave
we may know
in our last and final hour
a loving and
ALMIGHTY POWER
soulsurvivor
4/21/2009
~~~=<♡>=~~~
Jun 26, 2015
Jun 26, 2015 at 11:50 AM UTC
in this
pocketful
of limbo
the distance rises
in curls of smoke
a prairie fire
siphoning into
crisp edge
of forest
Inside my
uncloaked ventricle
primeval forces
turn my blood into
dusted gold
as they pump
sacred texts
into my oxygen
They roll your quintessence
upon my fingers,
playing inside
my psyche's
wild ache
a spread of orifice
in spellbound mantra,
as I spit out
the
hairy thorns,
a holy purge of
internal
engravings
Somehow ---
like a miracle,
I grow ripe seedlings
from deep within
my womb
as I trip into
a universe rising
I take wisps
of your grace
as it brushes
the jut of my
astral collarbone
You are always
grounding me
like this,
my tongue
tripping
over velvet
stance of warrior
assuaged into silk
Without you,
I might be
whisked off into
the periphery
of chaos
but instead
I am simply
tied to
the urgency
of the little novas
about to
explode
While I wait
I tend to
the wildfires.
to make sure they
are still burning
I keep my honey
wet and fresh
upon your
lips,
let my pores
drip moonpools
into your glistening
wet of mouth
and only when
it is time
I let the whole of
me burst
into the
fire -wrapped
tips of
stars
Oct 21, 2017
Oct 21, 2017 at 12:56 AM UTC
The ground was turned
We sewed the field
Toiled though,
Night
&
Day
We sewed the harvest of WAR,
Seedlings of Death
Bullets were littered to flower
Different calibres
Bearing the fruits,
Those picked ripe on the branch
Magazines
Armour piercing
Tracers,
Explosive,
Rounds, best not to drop.
C4 planted watered
with
Nitro-glycerine,
Like a ripe melon it grows
Till it is plucked form the stem,
A war head hangs heavy
lest it falls,
Wiping out the harvest & more,
Planting the seed of destruction
Is a hazardous Job,
One wrong step
And a spoiled mine
Can take off,
Toes,
Legs,
Insides,
Spill out in to the field of WAR
Feeding those objects
That would spill more blood
Once harvested,
This field full of the seedlings of WAR.
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 5:53 PM UTC
Take egg, invite *****
Mix for five minutes to two hours
Dependant on assistant
Feed at about body temperature
After 9 months or a little sooner if needed
Your childling will be ready to *** out
Decorate in nice new clothes and feed
After 5 years place in greenhouse with others
Come back in about 12 years
It will be totally unrecognizable to what you started with
Now dependant upon cross pollination in greenhouse environment
You may have unwanted seedlings of its own popping up!!!
So choice of greenhouse at an early stage is essential
If that doesn't present a blight they are now hardy enough to plant out!!!
Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 5:05 PM UTC
Hey there, little light bulb.
Look beneath your sunny glow.
There lie a dozen empty flower pots
filled with seeds waiting to grow.
Hey there, little light bulb.
Stay lit, please don't turn off.
You're the life of the empty flower pots
and for their seeds you're warm enough.
Hey there little light bulb.
You've got quite a job to do.
Give those seedlings energy
and bring plants to life anew.
Hey there, little light bulb,
did you see that little sprout?
It's because of your great energy
that this sprout could come on out.
Hey there, little light bulb,
be proud of what you've done.
You've made the first sprouts rise
and their journey's just begun.
Hey there, little light bulb.
I know you're getting tired,
but look at all the growing plants!
It's something to be admired.
Hey there, little light bulb.
I'm sad you died today,
but in place of your sweet energy
are a thousand trees to stay.
By: Kevin Kurt Nepomuceno
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 6:12 PM UTC
Through the sunlit valley they dance and sing
smiling with constant purity in the arms of spring
in the dales, new born lambs are bleating
daffodils push up to the sun, kindly beating
The buttercup pixies start to find worm holes
to pop there little seeds in threes into
then by night and day they watch the seedlings grow
underneath the shelter of a nearby toadstool
Then at six in the morning
when most folks are yawning
they gather their red hats as a team
and skip to the nearby crystal stream
Then with hats in hand scoop up the water
no more then just over a quarter
then bound back to water their seedlings
sweetly fastidious and tending with feeling
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 11:39 AM UTC