Best Fertilised Poems
This beautiful journey begins
From a courtship routine
The male perch themselves on leaves
And create a glorious scene
Waiting for a female
Just to fly on by
Now he has his chance
But, she’ll be the one to decide
The male needs to find out
Whether she’s been fertilised
If she’s already pregnant
He’s soon going to realise
She’ll release a powerful chemical
Which is called ‘pheromone ‘
That tells him she’s unavailable
So he might have to fly and roam
Soon after they have mated
She looks for a place to lay
Laying her tiny eggs
Mostly oval in shape
She can lay two hundred or more
Just in a single day
But she needs to find a milkweed
On this beautiful sun spring day
The tiny little caterpillars
Start to grow inside
Eggs no bigger that a pin heads
And thats no word of a lie
They feed on the milkweed
And the enzymes in the egg
Until these little caterpillars
Start growing up really big
Now when they hatch
From their eggs
They will eat and eat and eat
Eating up everything
Of those milkweed leaves
They will start expanding
Getting bigger and bigger
Shedding their skin several times
Now that is really clever
Then they just stop eating
And know their time has come
For their stunning transformation
Four stages have begun
They’re find a special twig or leaf
And hang them-selves upside down
Then spin a silky cocoon
Where they won’t be found
It’s called metamorphosis
Turned into a shiny chrysalis
Inside the caterpillars’ changing
Into a beautiful butterfly
It dissolves itself into a soup
That’s truly organised
Inside a process is taking place
It’s forming disc’s, a body, a face
This wonder of nature you can see
When they emerge victoriously
This transition takes some time
For the birth of an exquisite butterfly
One of nature’s beautiful scenes
Celebrating new birth in spring
The reproduction of a butterfly
A remarkable cycle, that does not die
© Copyright KC.Leake
6th April 2015
All Rights Reserved
Categories:
fertilised, adventure, beautiful, education, nature,
Form:
Light Verse
In dead-man's land
red poppies grow,
Fertilised by blood,
sun and winter snow;
And on widows' weeds
streams of sadness flow,
Lost freedoms seeds
beneath ignorance goes
To no-man's land
where,there were but crows;
With Spring's new life
real peace they can know,
In the Morning Star's
perpetual glow!
Categories:
fertilised, death, life, war,
Form:
Couplet
somewhere
red poppies
grow
fertilised
by blood
sun
and
winter snow
lost
freedoms
seed
on widow's
weeds
sadness flows
to that
no-mans land
where
there
are
but crows
Categories:
fertilised, poetry, war,
Form:
Free verse
Barren land of illiteracy ,
Soil never having been loosened,
Not fertilized by education !
Prejudice from heart difficult to eradicate,
Aspirations vacilitate, soon disheartened,
Barren land of illiteracy !
Comforts and bad money marionette ,
End of the day, lie disillusioned,
Not fertilised by education !
Howsoever doodads may shipshape,
Barefaced soul eventually feels threatened,
Barren land of illiteracy !
Eyes riveted at the door go grave,
Impecunious mason carving in house darkened,
Not fertilised by education !
Succor will soon arrive I hypothecate,
A town feared seized will stand fortified,
Barren land of illiteracy,
Not fertilised by education !!
Sponsor- Juli Michelle
Contest- rhyme battle- round 4
A villanelle ,
19/3/2014
Now entered for contest "Only villanelle and terzanelle"
By Shadow Hamilton
Categories:
fertilised, desire, education, hope, prejudice,
Form:
Villanelle
She's a skilled fighter
Nests a fire-breathing dragon
Rests in the barrel of her gun
The rumble of thunder
Just a drop of her blood
The badge stood crime still
Time froze in her powerful spill
Injustice fertilised the ground
Against all tradition, she's a knight
Hidden beauty behind the vise
Maiden on the wings of justice
An angelic armour shinning light
I drink daily from her mug
A fresh cop of her love
Full of peace like a dove
Her shield protects me like a bear hug
Categories:
fertilised, community, peace,
Form:
Rhyme
Foretold? Angels?
When you have sex, and you really love the other,
You know sometimes if you’ve fertilised and conceived,
And Mary and Joseph’s love must’ve been strong,
As marriage was the portal demanded and perceived.
So Mary hallucinated after some months and knew,
She was pregnant as an angel to her appeared,
When fear overtook her because of the derision,
That would occur from the social scene feared.
So she decided to turn to god, to the Jewish temple,
And be inhabited by the holy spirit admired divine,
And she coined the term Son of God most high,
For her bastard boy who otherwise wouldn’t be fine.
John the Baptist was simply the boy’s friend, same age,
Knew him inside, loved him and understood his heart,
Comprehended his capacity to attend to the poor,
For their health and longevity so ignored and tart.
So John, as Jesus’s best friend, prepared the way for him,
Set him up with his career, said his work should be accepted,
By just equating Jesus with god, love, justice and liberation,
For the poor and downtrodden who were very much rejected.
Luke 1
Categories:
fertilised, angel, baby, birth, christmas,
Form:
Rhyme
My little seed in its soft pod.
My little egg fertilised by love.
Splitting and dividing.
A little gift from up above.
My little silver blackberry of cells.
Floating like a balloon.
My body getting ready for you.
I'd hold you in a cocoon.
My little sprouting bean.
Little buddy arms and legs growing.
Little heart beating.
My love overflowing.
My little fish,
In your bubble of water.
I still couldn't feel you.
My sweet darling daughter.
My body kept you warm.
My body helped you grow.
Everything was wonderful.
Little did I know.
Something happened my baby girl.
At fourteen weeks I miscarried you.
My womb empty, baby gone.
I loved you.
Love you still.
Just wish you'd grew.
Categories:
fertilised, baby, growth, loss, love,
Form:
Rhyme
The pink flowers of the honeysuckle rise
Like crocuses in springtime on the green
Like eager maidens wanting to be seen
While sunshine glitters on their shapely thighs.
Too much sun has made them over-bold
They are at risk from their own desperate joy.
For all the rain and clouds made them annoyed
They must be fertilised or die before they’re old.
And this same sun makes me a melting splodge
A lick of oil paint mixed and uncomposed.
Who was this artist; what did he propose?
And will this portrait in my memory lodge?
As flowers will inevitably die
They do not lose by hurling up their joys.
But should we women imitate their ploys?
For we might live in shame, amply supplied.
Each child of nature feels the touch of sun.
Some stretch out in joy while others run.
If you might vacillate and never choose
She who chooses has the least to lose .
Categories:
fertilised, nature,
Form:
Quatrain
re-post inspired by SO contest
In dead-man's land
red poppies grow,
Fertilised by blood,
sun and winter snow;
And on widows' weeds
streams of sadness flow,
Lost freedoms seeds
beneath ignorance goes
To no-man's land
where,there were but crows;
Categories:
fertilised, sad, war,
Form:
Elegy
Our Freedom was bought at a price
Slaughtering Of the innocent paved our
streets in blood.
The carcases of our beloved fertilised our ambitions
Nurturing the growth of our consciences
And as for their future, fantasies of long ago.
Is it not still written in your eyes
or sealed in those hands of purity,
your feet pure and without the blisters of
discrimination.
While you were feeding and growing
strong from the unadulterated milk of truth.
Reason itself was to safeguardyou.
Put your bonds in better straits.
While it was that you were herding sheep,
the sons of a better future saw it wise to herd time
itself to a peaceful era.
Yes indeed, do not think that the water you
drink now is of known origins.
It is indeed blood from the yester-years,
the sources of which are not made clear,
except to say,
that they put life back into the ambitious
heart.
We sleep on a bed of bones ground by the
mills of our oppressors and yet we sleep at
ease.
In our minds now set is a blueprint of
a wayward peace, a land too far to see and
too close to dream.
A land not bound by
sea or gravity or the laws within men's
comprehension.
This Freedom was bought for the slave
and the master.
That the little stag might indeed Tower
to the glorious future
Categories:
fertilised, patriotic,
Form:
Free verse
You came to be here gradually,
from the whirling chaos of the dreaming infant,
anchored by the maternal hand to earth.
Do not try to fly back to heaven today.
Be patient;your guides will,with no effort,
Teach you the patterns and the dance.
All you need is to be open and to trust,
For you have a place in the world.
We need your contribution.No-one else
will see this world from your perspective.
And as you trust the chaos now,fear it not
Should it return.Every creative act
involves the breaking of these barriers
by which we keep the chairs and tables
anchored into themselves.The patterns may break up
but new ones are somewhere near.Patience
with this suffering is the only route now.
You cannot go back.Heaven comes only after
you have grown roots into this earth,
grown sunward,and travailed the storms
and stinging blows;
have grown your flowers and leaves
And let them fall.
Accept.
The only way you can go
is the earthly way.
You are part of us.
We love you.
Our hands are reaching out
If you just lift your eyes.
In the Chaos,God danced and rainbows
Flew from his hands and tears fell from his eyes.
Those tears which fertilised our earth.
He wept, knowing of the pain to come;
And yet,he did not cease to dance.
Categories:
fertilised, allegory, introspection, love, mystery,
Form:
Blank verse
To fulminate against the hands of fate
To vent our anger on beloved friends
Will not repair our ills and our mistakes
But may bring friendships to a bitter end.
For who are we to know what is the best?
Who are we to choose when loved ones die?
And do not think this is a needed test.
As if on us God wastes his time to spy.
Once we were a joining of two cells
The lively sperm, a salmon riding high.
The egg awaiting without need for bells
Is fertilised and grows that which shall die.
Astonishing that we should live at all.
Unsurprising, that a loved one falls.
Categories:
fertilised, anti bullying, life, longing,
Form:
Sonnet
What's Love.
Love is like a rose it blooms in the sun
fertilised with affection warmth and fun,
love is like a river that ebbs and flows
currents getting stronger as it grows,
Love is like a mountain with its mysteries
awaiting investigations of its liberties,
love is like a sea or oceans unpredictability
total unacceptable rage or gentle stability,
Love is like a breath of fresh unpolluted air
sweet refreshing, affection unreserved care,
love is like a sound that soothes the senses
breaks down barriers and emotional defences,
Love is like a field of golden barley or wheat
a sight to treasure, wholesome and complete,
love is like a sense like no other emotion
nondescript feeling just unconditional devotion.
Categories:
fertilised, love, uplifting,
Form:
Rhyme
She became his ex after they had had sex.
He told her to relax even though their act was lax.
He drove away for he owned a car.
She owned nought and couldn't go far.
His name was Max, at least that she knew.
After three months her gnawing doubts became certainty.
And so she gnawed at her nails.
For Max wasn't sending any mail.
Meanwhile, Max was enjoying the halcyon days of his youth.
What mammoth task did he have?
Inside him there was no fertilised ova.
Between him and her it was over.
It was after three years that she spotted a car so much like Max's.
Her hopes which now were high dwindled as the car came nigh.
As tears rolled down her cheeks
She managed to say,"that car looks like Max's, your father."
Confused, the young lad on her lap looked up and said nought.
Categories:
fertilised, pain,
Form:
Verse
Bio Mass.
I have had an intimate connection with effluence or
to use a more proper word, **** of the animal kind
I could by the aroma alone know which animal had
passed the track. Most animal dung smell is sweet
except dogs they have lived so long amongst us they
even crap likes us, but dogs love their own excrement
so much they even eat it. Horses` evacuations are like
rare wine and you promise yourself to buy a horse
when you can buy a bigger garden or vines that
have been fertilised by foals’ morning pee. Having had
your hands in the muck nothing can offend you.
Categories:
fertilised, allusion, body, farm,
Form:
Burlesque