Best Fertile Poems
Blowing Blissfully In Immense Wheat Fields Of Fertile Minds
Upon the soft winds and the unenduring pallid breeze
with its ragged, hot breath a flaming torch of frozen tease
she that keeps her knives ready to cut in so very deep
and poisons the pleasurable hours that tender heart sleeps
her beauty its mirage displays a glitterings of gold
and her spoken words cried by spirit far too damn bold
she that has the magnificent beauty of a siren's face
stole ravenous beating heart, without any to replace
as I drown in deep waters polluted by her foul breath
I feel the lying whisper of a very painful death
as pale sky and bold seas both cast their powers far adrift
and in glory oft Heaven sent, dear blessings that uplift.
Blowing blissfully in immense wheat fields of fertile minds.
Are visions from word magicians, immeasurably stone blind!
Robert J. Lindley, dark sonnet
March 25th, 1973
Categories:
fertile, art, creation, dark, deep,
Form:
Sonnet
HEAVENLY JOY
As Spring returns joyfully for all,
A life-giving energy returns,
“ To all creatures great and small,
The Lord God Made them all.”
The prettiest trees with blossoms
Are fruit trees,
“He gave us eyes to see them,
And lips that we might tell,
How great is the Almighty,
Who has made all things well.”
Some trees crave for warmth,
To say goodbye to bitter days,
And welcome golden days of sun
Which have begun
From time immeasurable.
“The cold winds in the winter,
The pleasant summer sun,
The ripe fruits in the garden,
He made them every one.”
Fruit trees are prissy,
Radiant princesses
Who bloom and burst,
Their seeds dispersed
By creatures of every kind,
Becoming blossoms of
Vivacious pinks, crimson delights,
Delectable orange, virgin white,
Breath taking lilacs and purples,
And Lemon spirited yellow.
Their fertile blossoms pollinated
By both birds and bees,
Which every moment do they seize,
To turn these trees into a heavenly sight,
Under our African sun so bright,
Each tree surrounds
It’s fruit with emerald, green leaves,
Protecting them from harm and thieves,
Watered by the heavens,
“The Lord God made them all.”
For humankind to be enthralled.
Words and verses taken from the Hymn “ THINGS BRIGHT AND BEAUTIFUL”
Categories:
fertile, heaven,
Form:
Free verse
Lilies plush, in coral-pink, titivate tidy yards
Swaying gracefully by manicured green lawns,
Alluring his glance there shadows dance
Where rabbits chase, and squirrels scurry by.
The lady in rocking chair, as always, says: hi,
Cheerfully poised, adoring red-roses rise,
Nonchalant of a poodle agitating on porch
Spotting a raft of ducks slowly, slowly cross.
He floats among clouds, his dreams amplified,
Buzzing amber desires in womb of eventide
Gawking fond musings that blush crystal sky
Lauding opaline aura glinting astral designs.
Ruminating jubilance, elated she’s feeling now
Lounging in thoughts by the pond in a park
As rustling winds imitate eve’s gilded sighs
Where she sits charmed, playfully beguiled,
Greeting him lovingly, garbed in mauve smile,
Caressing impulses that blazing passions vie
When Adele’s lyrics emanate from Love Song
Echoing tunes of romance from a car nearby
Scintillating lambency of love in longing eyes,
As fervid night muses of fairyland rendezvous
Divulging clandestine clues of lush stellar hues,
Riveting gaze, she proclaims: darling, it’s true,
Up high on amorous sky, the moon feels it too.
August 17, 2021
Placed 1st: This or That, Vol 5 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Title chosen: On fertile ground
Categories:
fertile, imagery, love, romantic,
Form:
Imagism
Across Mind's Fertile Fields New Seeds Are Cast
Across mind's fertile fields new seeds are cast
Oft spread onward by an innocent flame
If, if only, youth could forever last
Death would have to abandon its dark game.
Old age would vanish with its dreaded pains.
We would not be looking at sad remains.
Across flowering meadows oak trees grow
Near the lost graveyard where childhood once ran
If, if only, in June's heat cool winds blow
And more pretty girls show off their dark tans.
Old age would vanish with its dreaded pains.
We would not be looking at sad remains.
Across this great earth, life dances and teems
Sun rewards casting its bright golden rays
If, if only, river gifts cooler streams
We in our youthful zeal may pass our days.
Old age would vanish with its dreaded pains.
We would not be looking at sad remains.
Across mind's fertile fields new seeds are cast
Oft spread onward by an innocent flame
If, if only, youth could forever last
Death would have to abandon its dark game.
Old age would vanish with its dreaded pains.
We would not be looking at sad remains.
Robert J. Lindley, 1-25-2021
Rhyme,
( Memories From The Southern Meadows- 1968/1973 - to- 2021 )
Note:
Tis a terrible thing to look back and think of the time that
one once so wasted. Yet as noted- we are what the past has
made us. For better or worse, I survived much and believe
there is a reason for that survival. Perhaps could be as simple
as my writing.
Poetry has been in my blood firmly- as an addiction
- since age 15 - in 1969. The same year that my father died.
Now the ink that courses through these old veins.
Recalls the beginnings, youth and the wild years.
Life was crazy- living , loving, O' the pains.
Poetry cries, yes ink out those tears… ink out those tears.
Categories:
fertile, appreciation, art, blessing, deep,
Form:
Rhyme
It was you
that pitch black night
held me in the silk of your touch.
We strangers
had never seen one another.
I entered the youth hostel
late that night.
A young man
with a flashlight
led me to my cot.
I laid quietly
ready to sleep,
suddenly
your hand
moved up my leg.
It was you
removed my pants
put my hand
on your naked breast
wrapped your lips around me.
It was you
who mounted me
you
who rode me.
We never uttered a sound
not even a faint whisper.
I held them in
my screams,
my wish to yell your name,
had I an inkling...
what it was.
I restrained
my words of endearment
those words
those beautiful words
one shares
in the heat of pleasure.
It was you
who made me explode.
It was you
moved
so I could lap you up
like hot sweet milk.
It was you
scented in the fragrance of lust
as I held your shivering body,
as I inhaled it
over and over again
addicted to its effect.
It was you
left
before I awoke
that morning.
It was you
decided never to reveal
yourself in the light of day.
It was you
left me wondering
...
Who?
19~12~2014
Maurice Yvonne
If it was you
SoupMail me!
Categories:
fertile, longing,
Form:
Free verse
Fertile Crescent
Ghosts of pharaohs
Branded timeless in stone
Reigning order
Condemning the vilified,
as it is published by
The Royal Geographical Society:
Syria as the Gateway between East and West
Leonard Woolley
The Geographical Journal
Vol. 107, No. 5/6 (May - Jun., 1946), pp. 179-190)
And why shouldn’t this be so?
Beowulf, an earliest epic
Of Old English
How proud and agile to be able
To confer your legacy in written format
Onto your generations and incursions ~
Categories:
fertile, war,
Form:
Prose
On Fertile Ground
(A Settler’s Song of Thanks)
We settled here on fertile ground.
Trees filled the orchards all around,
and fields of crops would soon appear.
On fertile ground we settled here.
We bought some land – my love and I.
Amazed were we by spacious sky
from which rains fell; our crops were grand!
My love and I – we bought some land.
Fruits plump and sweet; gold-ripened corn;
our harvest truly was a horn
of plenty, with so much to eat:
gold-ripened corn; fruits plump and sweet.
With thanks much owed, we praised the Lord,
and I was proud of my adored
who by my side reaped what we sowed.
We praised the Lord with thanks much owed.
On fertile ground, long-settled here
with healthy children, it is clear
to this dear land we’re ever bound -
long-settled here on fertile ground.
Aug. 12, 2021 (this is a form called swap-quatrain)
For A Brian Strand Your Choice Poetry Contest
Categories:
fertile, thanks,
Form:
Quatrain
Fertile Crescent
The feeling of the sun, overshadowing
My morality, my righteousness
That sun over my left should,
Threatening to tinge me if
I pontificate platitudes that
Fail to connect me to a
Full stomach for my baby,
Solid comfort during my elders’ aging
And respite needs
That McChrystal was sacrificed at the altar,
The way Abraham (*pause) to show faith
O yea, my ancient ancestors from Ireland
Maybe they had roots in Celtic lore
Heralding Beowulf’s heroics
And maybe they had someone in some way connected
Categories:
fertile, war,
Form:
Prose
"I open the door and cross the threshold of imagination"
~ A Rambling Poet ~
Deep in the center of a lush green forest, I found it -
a lovely solitary door atop a three-tier stone platform.
By simply pushing through it, I had opened up my mind.
I found myself atop a center tier
gathering fresh ideas. . .
readying for descent.
Starting the last step with those ideas
that dissolved together like liquid,
I let the words start to flow like
a river through a forest
of imagination -
as if by magic -
funneling down
the last step
to this
poem.
For the Contest of Constance la France: Three Gems
(using three different forms
Categories:
fertile, together,
Form:
Sijo
I saw her prior to the night
Many nights before
In the cold dimness of the light
Right outside her door
Nor for rejection could I speak
Too thirsty my tongue
Her laden breasts were mountain peak
Like ripe fruits they hung
I only meant to cast a line
There, the moon and I
Alone dangling in the soft brine
They caught my eye
The clothes folded on a bright stone
The figure lost
Surprise, O I am not alone
My smile broke frost
And then bushes tattlering
Then sudden hush
My heart like lost words stuttering
The sudden push
Out, out, the coiled joy entering
And rush relief
The piped starch, skin smothering
Uncovered grief
Gone so quickly, love's first flash
Moon's breast, milk sweet
The fallen robe, the loosed sash
O no repeat
To the censoring eyes here
I trembled still
Before the cold knowing stare
Gone the sweet thrill
Awakened, no river nor sea
Only white sheet
Stained with more than wet memory
Needs hold deceit
Tongue cannot tell but as dream
Manhood blooming
The first world's lost in a stream
Love births meaning.
Categories:
fertile, childhood, fantasy, lost, lost,
Form:
Kimo
Although fertile were the fields, I plowed
That self-same earth lies barren now;
Barren evermore.
Still I shall not fear the wrath of God or Anyman
For my seeds were sown in the wild and unsullied season
Albeit the earth which absorbed the substance of my labors
Yields neither fruit nor flower.
Still what remains behind us after we have passed u nto nothing
Is it the perception of ourselves by others
Or the small and humble things that are the substance of my struggle?
Although tertile were the fields I plowed
That self-same earth lies batrren now;
Barren evermore.
Still I shall not fear the wrath of God or Anyman
For my seedswere sown in the wild and unsullied season
Albeit the earth which absorbed the substance of my loabors
Yields neither fruit nor flower.
Categories:
fertile, devotion, inspirational, introspection, life,
Form:
Ballad
Let’s dive into our mind
Look around – perhaps nothing is as it seems
There’s a unique perception
An amalgamation - of what we call me
Like rich fertile soil
Brimming with potentialities
Nature verses nurture
So grow the seeds
The roots grow deep
Manifesting in the subconscious mind
Breaking the surface
Revealing the crops – behavior becomes defined
The harvest can be bountiful
We truly reap what we sow
The health of the product
Contingent on the knowledge we know
Thoughts left undiscerned
The weeds spread like wild vines
Effecting the crops
Damaging – the internals in our mind
So let’s dive inside
Look around and take a mental note
Let’s clarify our perspective
Our humanity – our future will grow
If you don’t like the crops
Take action – not poetic hyperbole
It’s all in our mind
An amalgamation of you and me
Categories:
fertile, allegory, analogy, appreciation, blessing,
Form:
Rhyme
Lover #1
cherry tree blossoms
sweet scented perfume distilled
your lush fruit revealed
Lover #2
rutting buck rattles
virile stag catches sweet scent
drifts through fertile fronds
nubile does snuggle closer
suitor fondles coy lover
Categories:
fertile, love, nature
Form:
Haiku
woman on her scooter scoops chili
from her insulated bag
onto plastic plates
deftly juggling movement while the motor idles
wounded humanity, street people with shock eyes
that smash against the heat,
form a line
their off beat grins that recall the fertility
of hope
men accepting plates of food, paper thin pride
soreness in bony bodies that have no words for
self pity
stitched to her bike, she dispenses hot food for the
mercurial
in city streets, a sparse ground with patches
of charity
fertile soil for those tossed like bags in a storm
burdened by a brutal calm
devoid of the green weeds of ego
Poem composed: August 18/21
Categories:
fertile, character, city, dedication, environment,
Form:
Free verse
Petals as accordion folds swell
Flowers leap from each, bulbous shell
Soft pastels brim on hill, in dale
Of blithe spring bachanalia fortell
Bees, butterflies breathe succulent smell
To waiting nests, hives tidings braille
Around perimeter, birds twigs, grass bale
Thatching the twines to kindred scale
Under nests, in mating dances flop, flail
Masculine birds strut in bland coats of mail
Feminine birds in bright dresses chivalry hail
Lads, lasses swoon under libidinous spell
Love's sweet nectar their holy grail
From barn to field, musty odors sweet scents trail
Frothy libations stream from every, tapped well
Categories:
fertile, april, beauty, bird,
Form:
Rhyme