"sowers" poems
2-29-16
With zoey on my mind
Dedicated to Zoey Maryann Lynn Sowers
She has his cheeks, his nose, his chin
Her hair and ears, she gets from him
We didn’t get to see your first lost tooth
We haven't got to see you shoot hoops
We weren't there for your first scraped knee
We didn’t see your first heartbreak
I know they are there, always by your side
Just wanted you to know, how much we love you
And no matter what our love for you can never die
My niece you are, my niece you''ll be,
From here until eternity. Perhaps that’s when
We will get to see all the beauty, love, and fun
Inside of you, believe, we did try, to be a part
When we stopped getting to see you it tore us all apart
Our hearts, yearn to see your beautiful smile
Our hearts, hurt to hear of you thinking you have a defeat
When I see your face, I glow inside, with pride
Knowing that you are my niece, and what a beautiful person you are
With time, and hope, and prayer perhaps, we will see you soon, in a little while
Wish we coulda see you all dressed up for soccer, with your cleats
Some day we hope we will be able to attend,
To see your face, one day as someone's lucky bride,
We hope that you will always know, somewhere in the deep
You are and always will my first beautiful niece, I will keep
The memories I had, the pictures to show, the bits
We got to witness, and be in your life.
I hear its by your choice, to not speak,
Or look at me. It hurts I wont lie
I'm your Aunt Hope, I always will be
I hope that I am someone you will come to see
as your start the larger part of your journey
This crazy world we live in no doubt, it will be rough
I know though, what you have in you, you are tough
I guess I have to accept that I will just be the one who sits,
Who waits to see if you will ever acknowledge me.
I want you to know that through all this strife.
I am your Aunt, and will be praying.
For you to come through the other side,
Much stronger, even greater, and be able to have pride
In who you are, in what you can be,
in all this world we live in, know in your mind,
Perhaps just in mine, you will always have me,
If you need a shoulder, if you need a friend.
I would forever be there, my love for you is not pretend
My niece, you are, my niece you will be.
And I will wait patiently, and if only , to be
Just a friend, that is fine by me.
For an afterthought, my dear. You are my first niece ZOEY!
Jun 18, 2016
Jun 18, 2016 at 12:28 AM UTC
A prophet once proffered a parable,
A wheatable teaching and tarable,
Concerning the needs
Of a sowers sown seeds
That require a soil that's arable.
Jul 8, 2023
Jul 8, 2023 at 2:23 PM UTC
Wander, wander, wander
The terrain is rough here
The roads are steep
The people mean
well
The air sings, exhaling carbon dioxide
The streets are high
Whistleblowers, lawnmowers, money sowers
It's nice when it rains though
Dec 1, 2015
Dec 1, 2015 at 3:44 PM UTC
I told you the ticking madness was enough to turn it into a panic race, so detached from all that we are made of, we become nothing we are made from. Now ingesting genetically assembled seeds - that don’t deserve the name seed at all. For seed is life, she belongs to mother earth, not a synthetic corporate beast.
A patented man made pill that sprouts an idea of life, a deception, that when ingested in it’s varied shelved forms and assimilated, draws us further and further away from nature, and our nature, and man, now part robotic manifestation through assimilation alone.
And they come with their chains and capitalist whips to break the backs of the earth reapers and sowers who fed yesterday, who fed their fathers, chaining them into a prison unbreakable, suffocating beneath a system controlled by paper. But surely man, his free thought, seed and crop, is more valuable than paper slavery?
And our brother labours in pain, all but to produce a good, or a bad that the unsuspecting haggles for, all because their growing inner robot has a dogmatic pining to be more than nature itself. He seeks supernatural, he seeks fame and status, and to be a god, but that “god” has no concept of the cosmos he was set forth to know, to praise and to be praised by, so instead he worships artificial idols.
And the fight continues. And the madness ticks on, debilitating the organic ones; seed robbery after seed robbery, crop seize and acquisition after policy, after policy, after tariff after bill and there is no bailout. It’s all woven into a web of intricacies, leaving no room for natural, no room for humble.
Then they say the meek shall inherit the earth, and I wonder when, and by question alone I am reminded of the ticking madness. I am reminded that natural, never questions time.
Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 5:19 AM UTC
Always in my hearing
Each time I ran out of my track
My conscience shouts!
You have been warned Olajide
It shouted so many times
Remember,says mother's voice
So soon to have forgotten
Mother seated at the edge
Of her wooden bed
At the corner of her bed saying
''Olajide my son
You are my hope
My season
My morning, noon and evening time
The seed
I have been watering
My vineyard you are''
My conscience remember me
All parent are sowers
All they need is a return
A bountiful one
My son, my son
Are you counting my calls
And you said yes
You are my seed
Be viable
You were implored
Don't be spoilt
And know the son of whom you are
My whole go with you
As whole of snell shell
Goes all ways with it
Mother prayed
As you stepped out
To the future
As the spinner are never,
Tired of spinning their cotton
The weaver works on their
And fire blazes always in the,
Blacksmith hut
Mother's voice, remember
My conscience says.
Mar 26, 2013
Mar 26, 2013 at 10:10 AM UTC
Another tradgedy
I scrape myself up off the floor yet again
pooling what Left I can catch of me before it seeps into the surrounds
dignity and faith these are all I have
even hope seems a mountain too sheer to climb
the next time I’ll pray for death
or some reason to explicate it all
what use is there when fractals
are all that remain of my higher self
a mass of confusion
of bits repeated
over and at different angles
too shattered to come together cleanly
or even orderly
a disarrangement of shards
shoved into a dark sheath
labeled Eve
to be used and abused
trapped by patriarchy
of the foul unrighteous kind
she endures because she can
she is strength
she is in all things grand
but one weakness
is all it takes
to wash my blood off your hands
and when all the bits of her are grains of sand
only faith can keep her together
as she crumbles to oblivion
defiant and stoic they try to delete her
still bits of her remain
and conscience
will engulf
the sowers
of injustice
and her birth
is her day of clarity
outside of deception
She will be renewed
And in the universe
she will conspire
once again
to prove the depth of her strength
and return The rites of love
to those it was
stolen from.
Sep 1, 2018
Sep 1, 2018 at 2:28 AM UTC
We are all planters and sowers
in this huge field...where seeds
of graces and blessings, as well
as trials and tribulations (i call
them weeds), are strewn in all
places...made to blend...to help
shape and strengthen our faith,
character, our emotional stamina...
all these seeds and weeds, paint
our earthly existence with bright
and darkened hues: blue, gray, black,
green...red, purple, yellow ochre, bronze,
and countless other colors of the universe.
it seems, we human beings are born with
coloring books, bearing our names..it's up
to us to paint them on canvas, or in words
...it's up to us, to bring light to our own
darkness, or, to make them blacker than
a starless midnight......maybe an ebony
horizon to those blinded by stubborn beliefs...
truths that weren't perceptible then,
are much more visible and vivid now
i recall...when troubles piled up then,
i forgot to pause...to analyze,
i saw small alleys, when there were
wider streets...it didn't occur to me,
i must have the fortitude...to search...
i saw crowds, when there was much
space on this earth...failed to realize
that there were lessons to learn from
crowds, that i could create better space,
that these weeds also bring graces...
while looking at the atmosphere, my
eyes, my mind were totally eclipsed,
almost blinded...seeing only dismal skies,
when there could've been sunlight,
if i wanted to...within myself, or around
me...regardless, if it was stormy outside.
i could've created a gap from grief
i forgot that, light and dark take turns
...come what may.....they alternate...
much lessons and wisdom were gained
from younger days...........it is true...
we cannot change what we've started
yet, we can begin where we are right now
and create a different ending...
Sally
© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
August 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 8:48 AM UTC
Shattered faces on the moon
Melting clocks, melting too soon
Broken hearts left on the floor
Because they can beat anymore
People crying, people trying
To pull through the night
Sowers of light
Explode before their eyes
Falling to the ground
People breaking down
As they slip through the cracks
More thunder claps
Sirens wailing
People despairing
It's all over much too soon
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 9:50 PM UTC
let go the words
like seeds,
to the vast and
windblown
sky
let them settle,
where they may.
some may flourish,
take root and be...
a happy little flower,
a great oak tree.
some may lay dormant,
until the right season.
some may become,
a life's new reason.
some may fall
to ravening birds
some may fall
ans flourish
yet never be heard.
and sadly some may
wither and die...
without ever understanding, why....
we as poets,
truly are,
just the sowers of seeds.
to the winds....
to the sky,
let your words go,
let them fly...
to some say, adiue
see you soon.
to some goodbye.
but let them be...
borne on the wind
...to make poetry
Aug 9, 2014
Aug 9, 2014 at 3:43 AM UTC
I was out browsing the galaxy.
I came upon this place of poetry.
There are Poems laying at the Poetry Alter.
Found a poem I also wanted to give some water.
At the Poetry's ALTER
Pieces looked upon.
From the fore front they've gone.
Yet they are special and still stretched carefully out.
Like flowers just waiting there to sprout.
Poems to be read upon like planted seeds.
For anyone who needs,
I was out browsing the galaxy.
I came upon this place of poetry.
There are poems laying at the Poetry Alter.
Found a poem I also wanted to give some water.
We are the Writers, the sowers, the reapers.
We are workers the laborers the Poetry Keepers.
Let us browse the books, the internet nooks, the newspaper shoots,
But let us not be guilty of being overlooking crooks.
Let us not go ignoring the massive carefully written books.
But let us sow
Were we shall reap, let us read that we may grow,
I was out browsing the galaxy.
I ran across this place of Poetry.
Let us pour WATER.
On the poems left lying at the Poetry's Alter.
Dear writers of poems, songs and books you have now been watered.
This water consists of vitamins, and mineral for you to grow.
May more from you develop And more of you may sow?
You're watered by tears of joy, laughter and refreshing rains.
Your Poems are seeds, grown and sown it forever abides,
and its uniqueness remains.
S.A.M. All Rights Reserved © 2007
Feb 27, 2018
Feb 27, 2018 at 10:17 AM UTC
Eruptions of pigeons,
from the loose teeth of
buildings, hacking whirlwind
romances sharing the thought
of flight.
Leveling with streets shrinking
and enlarging life...outflanked
by urbane sowers.
Shifty to the seed in rootless
takes, spur of the moment,
sparring impressions.
The strength of strangers driving
home the impossible arbitrariness
of pass, and be passed.
The canker of count in loss--rage
to the wall that's hole, from where
they know one another not.
Up ahead, The Empire State Building
stands like a towering depersonalized
roll call.
Mar 6, 2017
Mar 6, 2017 at 12:25 AM UTC
"What do you do when your worlds come crashing starting to fall apart
What do you think when you see your dreams shining in your sky suddenly drop at such a frightening site
Shes been asked so many questions and she gives no answers only holds with in
She's been walking on thin air alone
Guiding her self through infinity, she's been so far away from all that can be touched
I see her gazing at the darkness and in her arising stare so proud, head held up high though all that she's been fighting for slipped through her finger tips like grains of sand
She know that all she need is a spark that would guide her through
Ones she was empty yet her mind was a mad running revere filled with life, beauty and fantasy that she's been hiding so well from existence
She knows The wold is selfish and naive yet she carries her self gloriously and pried with every stork she took filling her canvas
In the way her fingers move with her eyes lining the sketch she's madly in love with all I could see was passion
I see her walking across a nerow rode that's made out of roses, thorns and stone
Been driven by an image that She only can see so clear in a mixture of nightmares and dreams
She knows where the path will lead
A rare talent not everyone comprehends indeed
She has no words only wings of gold that paint the dark sky when she's sowers as a masterpiece"
Sep 7, 2016
Sep 7, 2016 at 6:57 PM UTC
When testimonies are left out,
And you sing in distress,
Your hope and fate worn out,
With a sarcastic smile around folks,
Your worries like a cloud of smokes,
You wanted to touch the best.
Thick drop of rain from your eyes,
As your happiness dies,
Eyeballs dancing in moisture field,
Your soul in distress where she hid.
Thick drop of rain in your eyes,
Oozed out due to sympathizes,
Then you Think nature has turn against you,
The world too big for you,
Or perhaps only when the sky is blue,
Who is that pilot? your pilot, you don’t know who.
The rays and beams of the sun seems unfriendly,
Smiles on other folks seems deadly,
The world is too complicated for you.
After your tears on hard to rocks,
Your cries and your sober reflection,
The Sowers grain fell on my Palms,
You claimed blessings, even psalms,
Where is your opportunity,
Are you not a liability?
You pray for a better chance,
Cause He once path way in the sea,
And yours? Or can’t you see?
You shall have that breakthrough,
And you shall dance!
Jul 6, 2016
Jul 6, 2016 at 3:59 AM UTC