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Best Plant Poems

Below are the all-time best Plant poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of plant poems written by PoetrySoup members

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New Plant Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Plant poems are below this new poems list.

The Plant Graveyard by McGrath, Brenda
I POTTED UP A PLANT by horne, jack
Plant A Seed Of Love by Rose, Mystic
PEPCON Plant Explosion of 1988 - 5 words by Ficklin, Lukas
office plant by Abegesah, Howard
Plant a baby by Harvey, Aa
Plant a thought by Harvey, Aa
Spider Plant by Jones, Jerrell
YOUR PLANT IN MY GARDEN by ONYEKABA, CHIOMA
Seeds that you plant Ninette by tor, michael

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The Best Plant Poems

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I want your SEEDS

**"And his name was Jack"**

No one perceives what abides above the clouds. 
A giant, a harp, maybe golden eggs. 
I demand to see and feel before I believe. 
A castle, a dream…. I want the magic beans!!!
~~~

I'm the daughter of a farmer. 
I have a donkey to ride, a story to tell.
“Jack and the Beanstalk” my favorite tale. 
 
Once upon, a morbid dawn. 
I inhale a tiny simple yawn
Like the morning sun levitating over the farm,
I rise towards the village square to sell my ass
Along the open path, my ass and I desired a drink. 
Near the rustic river, 
I'd seen an old Englishman, sitting on a log. 
It looked as if time was approaching his brink. 
In his hand, he had a sack.
A bag, a bag, embroil of ivory and black. 
His eyes were not from this ground. 
His body fragile - it uttered a moaning sound.
He was of dirt. 
I was pure. 
He pledged his life to me. 
I debated .... with many thoughts, 
Although his eyes... 
My eyes... Will never meet again.
"I want what's in the bag!"

In a gasp, he whispers, 
"I'll give you anything for that ass.
my legs and bones can’t hold up on their own!”
I knelt down to where he sat 
Smelling his essence of rot
I reached forward and grabbed his baggage 
He griped, "This bag is all I got!" 
 
I answered, "And this sir is a fine ASS!" 
He replied, "I have no cash." 
Scowling at him, “NO I want your demon seeds!" 
My blood grew thin... 
Inhaling and exhaling  - his sin 
The old man all shriveled and timeworn, 
Proposed the birthright of the seeds. 
"Yes, plant them! Plant them!" 
I cried excitedly! 
He pat the field. 
Said "there I am done, 
now clock as it expands"
 
To breed this story short... 
He dispenses his seeds. 
AND, I GAVE HIM MY ASS. 
 
  BY;PD   


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013

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Tears to Weep

When I lay me down to sleep,
And cry the tears that sinners weep;
To speak the words of a contrite prayer,
And know that someone listens there.

He cares for sheep that have gone astray,
Who willfully wander their own way;
They vex the pride that hides within,
And drink the bitter cup of sin.

The web of lies and dark deception,
Lie in defeat of Light’s conception;
To capture all and destroy life,
With passion’s fire and human strife
                 
We need to plant the gospel vine,
Where evil rules and saints repine.   
While martyrs lead with ransomed prayer,
With hope for life that tarries there.

Blood that was shed on Calvary,
Set slaves of transgression wholly free.
So we rise from the grave to seek reward,
Giving praise to our risen Lord.



Copyright © elizabeth wesley | Year Posted 2012

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I Think Of You - Ground Zero - 1

I Think Of You - Ground Zero (Part 1)

Leaving under a blood moon
                in a jet plane rising
  los angeles falls behind me
and I...

You.
Two.

                              Clouds dance
            to the song of the spiders.
Latent sun rays fall on me like rain...I 

...They say third time's the charm.
On planes again.
A sky...endless... and then finally 
from the other end of the world to here.
A continent, an island,
an australian flower drunk on wine.
Her...uniqueness lends to her beauty.
...and I

A fourth night.
A church spire at sunset.
At a distance bats fill the sky,
resemble a smoke plume.
...I 

I plead the fifth.
It's all these moons.
Tonight a hunter's moon.
She's unable to hide 
even with her bowl of clouds.
It's no help.
She has no spoon.
                     Her luminous rays give her up.
Moonshine in the moonlight over the sea.
...I 

I count...five, 
six...on the beach.
A purple nightshade,
a sand flower,
Irish eyes speak uniquely to me.
....I 

I, you...
you can't roll a seven with one die.

Back on a plane.
A snow fog blinding.
From my window seat a one of a kind view.
Alone,
...I

 I eight...ate...need to eat.

Africa...a Safari.
A plant chloroform green
has holes like cheese.
A large swiss leaf.
I laugh and I...I distract myself.

A stitch in time beats nine.
 Back in North America.
A dilapidated fortress stares down 
an overwhelming thunderhead.
...I 

I camp out.
It requires a tenth...tent.
An Eagle never blinks.
No eye lids.
An unimpeded view.

...but I...I surrender.
There is no place in the world
I can escape.
...I 

i think of you.

You are living art.
Here.
Now.
What I perceive 
is what I live.
I perceive us.

I can picture you.
I am photography,
the camera, the lens.
I absorb your image,
process it.
A form of plagiarism

I didn't borrow.
I stole.
Inhaled you but 
...I
I dream
and I...

...i think of you.



Armand
March 11 2015






Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2015

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An Epic Love For Women


I know you're not here

but you are in my heart 

so 

you are always with me

i'll just slip into you

with these words.
 
I know 
there are mountains
dwarf the cities below 
peaks that stride above the heavens
attempt to graze the planets if even so lightly.

That
there is a special star that rises daily
against shades of air lit.

They tell me
there is a wide deep void that is grand - a canyon
not too far for any adventurer who dares to look down its throat.

Our world is tightly splattered in miraculous views.

I remember diving through the horizon 
where on the other side
I found intricate scenes

I walked down a dock straight into an orange wine sunset
through to steps led to a bridge 
walked across to an enchanted glitter covered road
to a winding path with a floating pink shaded fog
until I wandered into an explosion of nature.

Once,
alone,
I witnessed a mud escarpment
with splashes of burgundy, shades of maroon,
tones in burnt copper and chestnut browns.
I found a rare waterfall 
rushing down into an inviting pool
a crystal clear deep blue lagoon unused
around it emerald spruces gathered in a cluster of trust.

All in all so alluring I willingly stripped bare and melted into
the refreshing fully chilled basin down to its coral bottom.
I was greeted by an array of tropical aquatic life.
Nude, free, happy
I swam in the simplicity of the moment.

Another time it was
a blinding white wavy desert floor 
totally stripped for miles,
then one 
just one live growing plant 
it looked like tall fanned out verdant fingers.
Remarkable,
however 
what a thin shadow it cast.

A bright blue scrim provided a contrast 
framed for a photographer to snap.
Floats in white, 
scarce 
were frozen in place 
and not a wire was evident,
just motionless etchings.

I sat on the burning sand 
took a position and meditated.
My mantra, 
rebounded off the thickness of the sultry atmosphere 
I heard my own voice return to fill me.
I bathed in the simplicity of the moment.

Yes
I love this world
All its treasures
I swear  

But you,
ah you

Not all of nature 

Not the sun that lights the day
sprinkles the skin in its brilliant sheen
or the moon that with 
its romantic smile
its alluring suggestions 
seduces even the least romantic of us.

Not the miraculous 
vegetation of every kind 
or the moss laden beds where lovers have often laid as one
linked to one another - inspired by natures erotic whisper.

Ah
but you,

I would sacrifice all else,

just to breathe in your love 
just to bathe in you.

You my passionate want.

Our love is my Mecca.

When I hold you softly in the strength of my arms.
Touching your face sends shivers through my consciousness,
holding your hand is like plugging into bliss,
watching your mouth,
the dent above your lips,
you know I overdose ecstatic 
when mine touches yours.

I want to stay - mine on yours,
as we speak, as we dream.
How I love your smile your laugh.

I hold you in the enchantment of my mind.
I caress you in the secret chambers of my dreams.
I cherish your scent - infinite, singular, invigorating.
I roll with you in the autumn leaves of my imagination.

I wish you everything - for you are everything to me.

I would if I could
I would reach beyond my grasp to,

to pull Magic from my hat.
Squeeze a snowball into a skating rink
just to dance on water with you.

I will love you into our after life,
no man as fortunate as me. 

They say reach for the stars 
you may end up with the moon.
I reached.
I got you,
my universe.
No man as fortunate as me.

Let me make every step you take safe, secure, pillowy soft
try not to faint from the sheer fragrance of you.

               Together we are sunset shadows,
shadows that will never fade.
               Imprinted permanently on the iris 
of the early evening sky light.

(pause)

do you remember back when we just met

do you remember when it started to sleet
when we used the bark from trees
to toboggan down the circled path of the mountain

dizzy 
we hit the brakes

brakes crafted
from the branches of a spruce 

but friction 
lit them like matches on kerosene 

and i really think the smoke filled
our lungs
travelled to our heads
because
even before the sleet turned to hail
we slipped under the lawn

spent hours and hours
covered in each other's silky embrace
and i confess i peered at every drop of you
treated my eyes to your 
unveiled 
natural 
naked 
nothing but you 
splendour
i held that moment 
fragile as it was
with the greatest of care
and hold it still with the same reverence

and i really think nothing should feel

that good 

because 

it just led us to lock lips 
and you know i could of kissed you 
an eon 
passed through it
as if it were a fraction of a second

our hearts synced
and i really think that
our breathing
our voices 
melting into the air
playing like music 
is what drove us mad 

and i get very creative 
when i go mad 
the stuff "crazy good" is made of

it must of worked because
we finally reached the peak of our crescendo 
laid in the sublime of one another
i must of loss consciousness 

because

i still don't remember our rendezvous ending

but it must of

because i immediately 
felt your absence 

and i really think that's why 
i wrote you

why i wrote

wanna slip under the lawn

   again

and i really think that's why
we've been 

why we've been 

     together forever

Dec 2015
armand 





Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2015

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COLORS for MOTHER

     COLORS for MOTHER,

Looking towards the blue sky
Every color camouflaged around the cloud
Tears of sadness began to dry
Watching all the colors display out loud

The dark needing to fade
The grey in my life finally made sense
Colors overlapping, forming a beautiful cascade
Shoulders of tense

I imagined your smile against the yellow sun
Giving light to all the matter of the things I've done
A warmness in my red heart-- together in the long run
Creating a new purple and pink sensation-- as one

My new rainbow doesn't come in black and white
Giving reason to follow the joy of light 
A gift of colors remind me everything will be all right
A guide blazing throughout the night

Lavender plant blooming for the world to see
A garden of every color just for me
Everyday I see the sunrise, rising up in colors of glee
My Rainbow will appear everyday without rain, no matter how deep the sea

Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet, the perfect skin tan
My sweet angel your the largest spectrum where ever rainbows span

:-)

by;PD 
I wrote this poem for my mom.
Rhyme


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2011

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Goddess of the Moon

.


                                          Shine, Mediterranean Selene
                                          unique goddess of this dark life
                                          glow with pride and forget the strife
                                          all my nights are lonely and serene.
                                          I'm yours, only yours, pure and clean
                                          and although your distrust is rife
                                          soon, so soon... you'll become my wife
                                          believe these words of sacred mien.

                                          Do not let envy plant those seeds 
                                          of fear, of jealousy and spite
                                          from the demons come those breeds
                                          whose gossip and lies seek our fight
                                          They're who expect your heart concedes
                                          to steal what lives just for your light.
.


Copyright © Ruben O. | Year Posted 2010

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The Flower -part one-

“A Flowers Wilt”	

Witness the small existence 
that abides the beauty of-----------
Freelancers all around,
Just to get a good look.

A baneful abrasion, the flower took
It captivates you -------------
Reels you, steals from you, 
WAITING, 
Until you pick the right flawless touch.

Dandelions swaying thin,
Here we fall like petals.
Ready to exploit, the beauty of-------
Inhale the fragrance,

Courtyard azure eyes, 
Embarking in a wishful eternity,
A crush they become, when loveliness up and left. 
A bully against arrogant threw feminine perfumed veils
Tulips waiting for the better auspicious sky
Asters claim the eclipse's,
-dinginess censors it from the brilliance of the sun.
~
A lonely rose
In My Helix World-
The out-and-out are born.
Cries in the dimness, 
A sweet Lotus echo 
Slight yelps of agony carried off by pollen breeze.
The earth revolves to fast,
Injections of herbal essence in the wind
For a split second, we feel pixie dust
Channel the essential, it fades
Earlier beauty, calmness-
A flourish smile,
Rusk of flower, a bluebird’s bread.

Like candles and dew, they stream and limber energy
Opposing others of its humanity, 
Against the command of its importance,
Pierced by its own elegance,
Thriving slowly of its own will, 
A short story, gone astray!
Tonight, we plant a tree, 

The Flower wilts
The gardener cries


03-06-13


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013

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Magic Beans


It was magic beans you placed in my hand as we held
Ones you nurtured,  embedded deep within your love
I know because it tormented me with euphoria planted
Stalked me earnestly  with your charming advances
You know I climbed walls 'til next you stood at my side
 
When you  occupied me and I  began to grow, the eclipse 
Was gigantic, extraordinary, a wanting wildness sublime
You were my mystical hen, the one who laid Golden Eggs
You made our home a  majestic castle suited for royalty
 
It was magic beans you infused in my hand as we held
Made me spin searching for a long pole to slide down
Escape with you  my loving wife from the Giant Ogre 
Inside me, I who feared commitment, a long time alone
But now you are the only enchantress I need or crave
 
And when it is my turn to die, take with me to the grave
The feel of you deeply rooted beyond my meager frame
From the soil above my coffin will grow beyond the sky
The largest plant with leaves shaped in awe of our lives
Steps beyond the clouds you'll find me playing my harp
 
An angelic music and song that will herald our union
Speak of our story in fable for children's open ears
Adapted to capture their imaginations, inspire them
Lift a glass in cheer to magic beans entrenched in you


01~12~2015
Maurice Yvonne
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A 
Contest Name: Magic Beans 



Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2015

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The Four Elements in Nature and Humanity

Fire catches fast, then sweeps through grass and trees.
The lion of the elements, it roars,
and burning hot, displays its awesome might.
Fire signs are one of four triplicities.
Bravely, like lions, those of fire will fight.
A fire-born person is one who adores
his life, and what he wants he’ll simply seize!

The element we need to breathe is air.
This carrier of currents none can see
is spaciousness surrounding everyone.
Those born of air may seem aloof!  They’re where
they need to be; their thoughts float toward the sun.
They analyze and then effectively
communicate to us because they care.

Sweet water! Always we can see it flow.
It flows to sea; it ebbs, then flows again.
Without it, plants and animals would die.
Those born to water are the ones who show
emotions freely. Hear them laugh and cry!
They touch our souls and give us solace; then
entreat us. .  . let imagination go!

Earth, the final element, is the land;
God put us here with feet on solid ground.
Sustaining us, it gives much that we need. 
Those born of earth are stable, for they stand
for practicality. They plant the seed
of reasoning.  Four elements abound.
When they’re in harmony, life can be grand!


Written Feb. 9, 2016 
Now for the  YOUR POEMS ARE NOT TRASH Poetry Contest of Marugu Mo
for the  HUMAN NATURE - 4 STANZA, 7 LINE Poetry Contest of Marugu Mo


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2016

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Tangled Vines

I walk along the old familiar path in the wood of my childhood - the place that I willingly abandoned for the lure of new friends and activities that carried me ever farther from my simple carefree days. Nothing here is quite the same, and all that once was large to my child’s eyes has grown small. How can it be? The houses on the fringe of this old wood are the same houses we always came upon as children as we ran - exuberant wild Indians of our enchanted forest - away from our foes and into the safety of “clearings” - those back yards of neighbors whom we never really knew. Our small legs ran so quickly down that well-worn long-ago path in the days when we were soldiers hastening to secure our forts. Other times we searched for treasures in the wood's crevices, finding - one day - bed springs, metal pieces, and old mattresses and converting them into contraptions for jumping. I tread slowly, noticing how many spots along my way are now overrun with weeds and tangled vines. How did I ever not notice there were vines here at all? They must have been well hidden off our path. Perhaps a kindly neighbor kept the pathway clear of them out of consideration for all us kids. I cannot know. . . It was so long ago. I glimpse the raspberry bushes we used to happily discover each summer when fuzzy berries showed brightly red and plump. And there’s old man Miller’s house, whose fence we used to climb so we might quickly steal the juicy apples fallen from his tree. Sadness tugs at my heart. The tree has vanished, and in the place of old man Miller’s shed now sits a swing set looking barely used. I head toward the center of this miniature forest recalling how it used to hold such grandness in my young imagination. The pond where we used to skate in winter has disappeared as well. In its place is a broad high pile of dirt, and at the north outer edge in the distance I can see diverse machines used for excavation. Maybe soon the wood will be cut down. Though small, this place was once so wondrous! I think back to our Christmas vacations, looking for the perfect little hill to drag our sleds up- and the thrill of barely missing trees as we slid back down. Everything was magical, crisp and clean. Suddenly I trip on tangled vines I’ve failed to see. The vines are stumbling blocks that have blotted out the utter charm this locale once held for me. You’d think that being smaller to my grown-up eyes, the wood would seem even simpler now. But no, it’s lost the grace of my simple and easy childhood days; It’s become a labyrinth of too lush plant life. I think how - like my complicated life - this old familiar place is decaying and is overwhelmed with all these obnoxious vines and how one day - like the pond and Mr. Miller’s apple tree - this dear wood will have vanished. inspired by events of my childhood and the contest of Constance la France and now for Caleb Smith's In the Woods Poetry Contest


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013

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THE WHEEL HAS COME FULL CIRCLE

What goes up must come down. 
No colors can define who you are. 
You may own a cart or limousine. 
We'll still reach the end when it is near. 
I may be poor today and eat from trash. 
Tomorrow, you can't tell. I'll earn some cash. 
The bed where you lie is soft and wide. 
I sleep at a sidewalk and the stars are my lamp. 
You wake up each morn' with a feast on your table 
While we are scavenging to fill stomachs when we're able. 
Our destiny isn't written in the stars. 
We work for a living to thrive in this life. 
Be thankful every morning you witness the sun 
And pray tonight that no one lives same as I. 
Wheels come in full circle,rolling round and round. 
Today you'll be on top, 
I am watching from the ground. 
Let us bear in our minds that we are better than birds. 
Our loving Father ensures each mouth is fed. 
Not even the smallest details can pass by His eyes. 
So plant a seed of kindness and reap a better life. 



sponsor:FRANK H.

name of 
contest: SHAKESPEARE

*5th Place winner










Copyright © Aiyah de Torres | Year Posted 2014

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Lives to Live

I need more lives for me to live
In this universe of beauty;
I plan more days to find new ways
Of doing freedom's duty.
I need not more joy than this
For I am life's dear lover;
And when I wage to turn the page
I'd never want another.

The glorious pledge of sunny Spring
With sweet June coming after;
Bring autumn sighs and summers cries
Lost in winter's laughter.
With virgin moons and scorching noon’s
And stars of a thousand nights;
I'd need no heaven if love be given
With all its sweet delights.

There are many splendors for the eye
And such music for the ear;
The mind would reel with all to feel
And see to touch and hear.
There's many ways to spend the days
And more to do what's kind;
For bread now cast on waters past
Returns again I find.

There are such gifted souls to know
And many more to learn;
While a promise rests in earth's warm breast
And unknown stars still burn.
In six days God made all the earth
The bible is known to say;
Six lives I need to plant a seed
Of love with one for each dear day.

But sad if love should fly away
Or hide his face from me;
Six lives aren’t much if I had such
But one’s all that need be.
With unhappy May and sorry June
Sad dawns and weary night;
A sorry world through space was hurled
When love had lost her light.


Copyright © elizabeth wesley | Year Posted 2011

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Giggles and Splashes

I had waited for you seemingly forever
So long did it take before you were to come into my life
But in so many ways you had always been there

Your hair so white more than once people 
Said that you glowed
Your eyes blue gray 
Soft but piercing. 

In the spring we’d plant flowers and you quite the digger
Would never tire of ‘replanting’ oh the control God blessed 
Me with that summer

On the porch we would swing and sing until my throat would be sore
And still Id manage one more
Lavender Blue, You Are My Sunshine, Red River Valley
I can still hear the wee small voice

In the summer under the big maple the front walk
Would flood and we’d run back and forth barefooted and splashing
Your face, pure joy, your eyes animated, your smile so wide
And those cheeks I could tweak them right now
Is there any better sound than giggles and splashes

Autumn we would take long walks and picnics down in the woods
And sit on a fallen tree. We’d find ants and worms and spiders and rescue the most
Precious of treasures. Feathers, milkweed fuzz, acorns, so much
Bounty for the taking. We’d bring them home and glue them
On paper or cardboard or make touch books

Winter oh please let’s have snow for winter. Snowmen
And snow forts, snow balls and mmmm snow cream. 
I remember the look on your face at your first bite as
If you had just made magic. 

We read books by the fire, books and more books
Then you would touch my lips and ask me to 
Read one with my mouth, which meant to make
Up one just for you.

You have been blessed with intelligence
You have an uncanny ability to fix things 
You’ve never seen before
Your sense of humor can put me away
Until I beg you to stop
You have a sense of logic beyond your years
You will sit on the floor for hours and build block towers for babies
Most importantly my son
You have been blessed for an unquenchable thirst for God’s own heart

At eighteen our time together will be changing but sitting here
I remember the words from a book we used to sing to each other

“I’ll love you forever 
I’ll like you for always
As long as I’m living 
My baby you’ll be"

To Noah


Copyright © Laurie Ginn | Year Posted 2009

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The Prophet

The Prophet


I read the words of a poet
From the days of tomorrow
His verse flowed backwards in time
And rhyme 
I, a fair maiden, doomed to a fate
Of obligations unseen
If only the book on my lap
Was not ahead of my youthful station on this earth

Verses seeping with promise
I long for the voice of this master of the pen
I day dream, and lose my place in this world of pain
To hear his softness in the blowing wind
Alas it must be the times he lives

No man can carry such passion
Inside a book within a book of dreams
Yet, here I am, to ponder
The romance of a tomorrow I shall never see

I am doomed to village laws and customs
A stoning that is so unjust
For I unveiled my eyes to the world before me
Staring into the depths of mans possessive hatred
I ran in fear, I ran towards the forest of hope

As they drag me by my feet
The book clutched close to my breast
Bloodied and in the moonlight, I open it
To find out, even in the future of majestic noble poets
There lies evil still
Stealing the breath of innocents and infants

I hope one day
I shall meet the author of these words
I may slap him across face for my silly fantasies
So long I dreamed the world would change as does the seasons
For better days filled with peace and kindness

I hope one day
I shall meet the author of these words
I may plant a sweet kiss upon his soft lips
Singing of songs he has long forgotten
I slowly wrap the rope around my neck

They will not stone me
They shall not claim any victory over me
The poets words, hidden deep between my legs
Shall melt within my soul
For better days filled with love and kindness
I shall kiss him sweetly in my death


Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016

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Loving

Loving is to through a pebble into the sea
and the ripple become a wave
to plant a seed
and it become a tree
to cook a meal
and it become a feast
to build a house 
and it become a home
to shine a light 
and it become a beacon
to speak a name
and it impart trust
to see what lies benieth
what is seen on the surface
to hear the secrets
of the heart being told
to touch and give 
comfort to a human being
to feel empathy instead
of sympathy in time of need
to let love be measured
by decades and deeds
where words are the least 
of expressions of these
but summerize the tears, fears
and tongue of our God
a relationship with both 
mate and Diety we laud
with works and prayers
love is more than words
it is the path we trod
love is a blanket
covered to keep warm
love is a needle
sewing socks while a fire burns
love is waking
before the break of dawn
love is baking and taking out
before it burns
love is a love note
found 
during the day
love is thought
finding words to say
love is sometimes saying
"You can have it your way"
and love is duality in saying
"Lord give US this day"
where hell and high water
have no say
a sacred trust
in giving time away
love is forgiving all that
is abroad
love is not giving 
that which belongs
to God
the only place to find this love
it is the place we call heaven
up high above


Copyright © john loving iii | Year Posted 2010

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Before My Pen Is Hushed


      Before my flowing, poetic pen is hushed in Quietus,
And I have reached my journey's end with folded hands;
            Departed into my dreamless sleep beneath violets,
Let me write one everlasting, eternal, immortal verse;
                  Of the ravaged garden of my life.

      I want to hear a bird song when I quietly glide away,
With a sigh, I will lay my pale form down peacefully;
            I have willed my Keepsakes and my musing poems,
The Angel of death, will take my hand into another realm;
                  And the drums of time will cease.

      Oh, it has been a life full of happiness entwined with sad,
I have travelled many different roads to get to Tranquillity;
           The chapters of my life are full of the dead and undead,
Memories of childhood, family, friends and pets I loved;
                  The scars of life stab my soul.

      I do not fear death and I am ready to go through the gate,
But I will miss nature, the woods and the waters moving;
            And as I walk the silent passage alone to my eternal night,
Think of me as being set free and soaring high up above;
                  I lived a life weather-stained with tears.

      Leaving life is something we all must do; it is written,
I was held by a thread in this earthly realm until that last gasp;
            Now, all I know is the peacefulness of a leafy tree above,
Drifting blue clouds and rain falling gently on my resting place;
                  I was a shadow on the wall of time.

      Do not weep over my eternal grave heartbroken my dears,
I have followed the beautiful Angels footsteps to heaven;
           My poetry is timeless, ageless, and will always remain,
I have shed this earth bound life and I am a butterfly set free;
                  I drank from the deep blue cup of life.

      So come, dear hearts and plant some pretty flowers in Spring,
I am at last united with all my beloved who have gone before;
             Touch my name and remember me for my beauty,
And although my life was but a whisper, I loved every moment;
                  Now, I exist in another realm.

____________________
August 26, 2015

Epic


Submitted to the Premiere Contest Number Five
Sponsor, A Skat


Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2015

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Please Give me Wings

Wash my heart and make it clean
Remove the grime from where it's been 

Take my idle hands make them yours
Use them to open holy doors

My cracked lips long to sing your praise
Be my Misto the rest of my days

Guide my calloused feet along your path
I wish to know Love and not your wrath

Take my arms place them around the poor
Help me realize I need less not more

Plant your precious thoughts in my mind
Change me from selfish make me kind

let me see your face with my eyes
Remove my ignorance make me wise

Apart from you I cannot be whole
Thank you for this reconditioned soul

One day my life will end I know that's true
Please give me wings so I can fly to you


Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2013

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Touch Me, Dream Weaver

.
..
...
Dream
Weaver,
Where are you?
Caress my hair,
drift through my mind's eye...
Let your fingers dig deep,
unearth the day's toils, plant seeds
that give birth to joyful tendrils
Use these, weave me rivered reveries...
Stay by my side 'til Sun kisses my cheeks


                                                 Blanket me in your kaleidoscope warmth
                                                     let silken threads of dreams tickle me,
                                                           so smiles meet my lips as I sleep
                                                                     Unravel my wrinkled mind,
                                                                 smoothen it, breathe new life
                                                                           with your magic touch
                                                                                    Let me feel you,
                                                                                     Dream Weaver
                                                                                                     Visit
                                                                                                       me...
                                                                                                             ..
                                                                                                              .






Date posted: April 25, 2011  6:40am


Copyright © binibining P.iNk | Year Posted 2011

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Murder in Randolph County

 (Spenserian Sonnet) 

A flagrant man is Robert Brown, a swine;
his eyes glow red like ember coals of fire.
Will fate be kind or bring him bitter brine
and will his soul the evil one require?
Did in pretense he seek to prove desire
and rise to plant a kiss upon her lips?
He sliced her neck and watched his wife expire,
as blood streamed down and dripped from fingertips.
Yet rumor spread as neighbors came to grips
with horror of a murder in their town,
and newsmen raced to pen details in scripts
while lawmen flocked to chase the villain down.
          I held my mother in my arms and cried;
          her eyes met mine in sorrow as she died.



Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2014

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Love In The Trenches



Now this is my definition of love It's much like wrestling in the mud You get down and dirty And say things quite flirty Then it all comes together with a thud You scream out bloody murder together Promise your undying love forever Roll over and whisper The name of her sister Then you realize that wasn't too clever She pummels your head without any mercy You attempt to defend 'gainst her fury You start to see rainbows And a bunch of pretty halos A ferocious little dynamo this girlie Well eventually you recover your senses And are able to put up some defences You plant a big smacker On this sweet li'l attacker Then it's back to love in the trenches © Jack Ellison 2015


Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2015

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Living In Your Dream

Floating across rivers, valleys, and streams I'm thinking of living inside of your dreams Run barefoot through nature, you chasing me End up tripping and falling in love by the sea We're two eagles that fly, soaring high in the sky Let the wind take our bodies, as life passes on by You're a delicate flower, I'm a young honey bee Sucking your nectar and starting a new family tree Sliding down rainbows after a warm springtime mist Laughter and giggles when on your cheek I plant my kiss Your dream will not end having me inside you Our days will get brighter and our night times will too


Copyright © Tim Smith | Year Posted 2015

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To My Guardian Poet II

There is not a poem that you fail to read
Or time that I’m away you don’t ask, “Why”?
There is not a time when you don’t plant a seed
Of joy into my heart when tears I cry

You’ve helped me to believe in what I give
Seen beauty in the silly lines I rhyme
You’ve helped me want a better life to live
And shown me Godly love time after time

You will not leave my writes without a thought
Oh what things need to change for smoother flow
A friendship true like yours cannot be bought
You’ve helped my heart to breathe, expand, and grow

A Guardian poet you have been to me
Accept my thanks and loyal constancy

Jade (Eileen to you, Richard Lamoureux)

This is my second poem by this title. Richard Lamoureux has been a constant friend, mentor, and guide. I so appreciate his integrity, honesty, and spirituality. He's encouraged me over the years I've been here.....to keep writing, to enter contests...and to believe in my self-worth, a precious gift. When I'm gone...he'll visit my older writes and leave a note. :) I've gained so much by reading his book- Dummy: Hurtful and Healing words which is so full of precious insights on the power of words to heal or destroy. Well I know this power. Well have I suffered because of it. 

People come and go...It's good to know some are there for the long haul. Some are there simply because they care...nothing more...nothing less. Thanks, Richard.


Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015

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Court Green

Her shadowy cloud-cloaked figures are reaching,
clustering at the creaking bridge end,
waiting for me, beckoning silently,
fitting their footsteps to mine.
Russet rust dots the ground like blood spots -

maroon flakes flecking the quiet earth.
The gaping church mouth
has swallowed too many blood-soaked sunsets,
girning and regurgitating the red.
The Gothic spire of the yew keeps its churchyard vigil,

overshadowing the elm's distress -
troubled trees that bleed through the sigils of her desk.
Each ancient taproot sprawls to the grinning maw
of a corpse, kissing this quiet necropolis.
It is too still, too silent,

not a breath, a whisper, or a flicker.
On a green hill faraway narcissi raise white faces;
they nod and bob above an echo chamber of old cogs,
ancient wires snaking from walls,
ivy ropes strangling worn wooden doors,

softly rotting boards, shifting floors.
Slow sun on moss-smothered walls,
turning and churning amber and gold.
Her history haunts here, hanging like a pall.
Old memories snag between slats of sunlight;

vaporous spirits stirring, rising before me
like a heat haze in the sweltering, melting air.
Cubed cottages line the lane in spun sugar pastels.
What is that sickly odour throat-choking me
in the sultry air? Is it only the saccharine stench

of the lace-capped cow parsley? Cautiously I place each foot
among sodden sod clods dark as blood clots
and a snare of plant roots, the throttle-web nets
of Queen Anne's lace. Wending a winding pathway
through weed-choked abandoned allotments

shimmering green as the sea; the sun funnelling
its suffocating heat to me, the sick hawthorns
sweating a feverish odour of malady.
Bean flowers peer meanly from their cages of canes -
little hostile black eyes following me.

A murder of crows converges, blackening the hot blue -
bits of scorched paper soaring near the sun's searing inferno -
squawking souls immolating; a panicked flutter of sky cries.
And at the end of it all, this sinking into sunken soil
as the cloud-cloaked shadows lengthen to swallow me whole.





*Court Green is the name of the house where poets Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes lived in the village of North Tawton, Devon. The 'abandoned allotments' in North Tawton were the setting for Plath's poem 'The Bee Meeting'.


Copyright © Charlotte Jade Puddifoot | Year Posted 2013

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If I could change the world

If only it was so simple, to be gifted a magic wand. With one composed command, creating a peaceful bond. Plant a beautiful garden, blossoming harmonious serenity. Cultivating unconditional love, forming perpetual affinity. Eliminate all forms of adversity, from disease, poverty and pollution. Free education and clean water, are foundations to our constitution. Each nation economically equal, eradicate imperialistic aims. Bring an end to nuclear weapons, so the world does not go up in flames. It's not easy, but we have a choice, to sit and ignore or to take action. Think about tomorrow's generation, who deserves to live with satisfaction.
12 April 2016 If You Could Change The World - Poetry Contest by Dan Kearley


Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2016

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The Whispered Song

The warrior lays her weary head, 
With heavy heart she cannot bear, 
Burning tears stream down her face, 
As whispered memories touch the ear.

Her armour tarnished by remorse, 
Her battle-cry a wimpered row, 
Her wounds, of which bleed solitude, 
Will never know forgiveness now.

The song began two score ago, 
When two came knocking at her door, 
In need of refuge from the world, 
Of that, and love, and little more.

Forced to fight for every smile, 
Her only solace found in song, 
She longed for love to rescue her, 
And plant her where she could belong.

Jealous tongues are seldom kind, 
Self-seeking hearts know nought of love, 
The caged canary only sings, 
When coaxed to praise from up above.

For the steely spine that now I own, 
Forever shall I grateful be, 
A gift from her, and from her own. 
Courage mounted inwardly.

I'll not forget how I have loved thee, 
And youthful memories I will prize, 
Til on the shore of His forgiveness, 
Whereto now, we both shall rise.




Copyright © Yvonne Evanoff | Year Posted 2011