Best Germinate Poems
ORIGINS
Winter’s shroud
Urges meditation
Adornment so scant only
Heaven’s light to cheer the lonely
In springtime though
Peeping buds awaken
Tiny origins thrust
Ease one’s contemplation
Tulips germinate
Sans nature’s later flow
And mind’s eye gravitates
To roiling roots below
Spring’s full blown riot
Must pose eyeful question
But a moment chime perhaps
Soul’s true direction
Is such splendid array
A vein traveling invitation
To some hidden house
Of God’s creation?
Alas belittling mortal speculation
Winter’s origin winter’s shroud –
She sleeps sleeps as needed
By all of nature’s crowd
Dave Austin
She knows when the lights are turned off
there will be light somewhere else
Understanding of connections between life and death
The rains will come and the seeds will germinate
by the green youth trees
The attraction is there, but also the fear
her world is falling apart as a house of cards
through the soul's dark night
A transcendent and celestial experience
the arrival of the journey via divine powers
The frequency, sound and volume adjusted frequently
She testing the woven fibers with burning longing
against a background of nothing but bluish air
The soul longed for so much, a renewal
Listen to the sound of trickling streams
before they merge into the endless sea
A reconciling and humble journey has ended
04.03.2023
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
- ''J'' - Words - Poetry Contest -
Sponsored by: Constance La France
2nd place in the contest
Own emotional wounds
Waiting for a seed to germinate
Evergreen, my little bean
The child who was never born
A handful of soft down
Glass bowl with pink walls
with an opening to the universe
Death, no sign of life
A quiet heart
in this star-crossed trip
Blocked by rivers of tears
The painful experience
Unprocessed trauma
When things are difficult
frustration, sadness,
anger and longing
You become completely paralyzed
A piece of my heart
will always be in heaven
The inner dialogue ...
if you only knew
~~~
25.10.2020
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
If only you knew Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Silent One
2nd place in the contest
Gone are the fields of winter white
soon to be replaced by hues of greens and yellows,
in the interim, fields of barren brown and dirty gold
turned, to breathe warm air from departed winter chill
Plumes of black and gray from mans machine
kneading the back of Mother Earths desire,
before impregnating her with the many seeds
that will produce offspring to quench mans many needs
oh, how lonesome she looks, so alone
holding yet to some remnants of children past,
left only to cradle her dead, left by man
yearning to suckle new life, as only a Mother can
Above, from the heavens, Father prepares
to germinate those so many seeds,
with life sustaining necessities only he is allowed
sunlight and life giving rain, loosened from the clouds
within days Mother is impregnated
she can feel the multitudes of organic life,
moving within her womb, yearning,growing, needing
the escape, to be warmed and nourished by the Sun
Minutes turn to hours, hours to days
suddenly weeks pass,and yet another life,
giving rain, descends from guilded clouds
arms and fingers, of her children, open, sustained
nearing the end of a warm and wonderful summer
it is time for Fathers other children,
to reap what he has sewn
time for Mother Earth to let her children go
My, how they have grown, tall,lush and full
of the fruit they were meant to bear,
to provide nourishment for the masses of seeds
grown to maturity, in need from the father
Again, the gray black plumes of mans machine
come to life, they move through her fields,
her children, like a predator among prey
until, she is left again, with remnants of children past
Soon she will be blanketed again in winter white
gone will be the warm breath of life,
her children taken from her, she is again barren
only to be betrothed to a promise of new life.
I wrote this on a day trip to Illinois from Iowa across wide open farm land.
God Bless....Taz
She entertains fantasies
of unicorns and dragons.
And her discerning spirit,
often thinks outside the box.
She is an illusionist,
famed for her vanishing act.
And breaking with tradition,
she chooses how she'll live life.
She weathers stormy outbursts,
resistant to lightning's flame.
And with nothing but a smile,
forms rainbows from drops of rain.
She questions the relevance
of a closed reality.
And seeking enlightenment;
touts spirituality.
The truth forged within her heart,
tests the mettle of your soul.
And seeds of hope germinate,
in the light of her aura.
An inquisitive soul, she
wears innocence as a shawl.
And sparks curiosity,
with her accent of wonder.
A requiem can faintly be heard
in the springtime breeze
as dandelion's morph from gold
blossoms to a crown of
seeds in downy tufts to begin their
airborne journey to
germinate and recreate with a drive
to survive even the
harshest weather, a plethora of
pesticides, and weeding.
Ah, can not the feminine form be
celebrated in comparison?
As her entourage of suitors lifts her
spirits to soar blissfully
until she establishes that one special
connection that causes
her bloom, that innate ineluctable
calling to mate and procreate.
Though trials, illness, and hardships appear,
future generations ineffably endure
in season's springtime, as love renews life.
May 4, 2016
Animus/Anima--Part 1: Anima - Poetry Contest
Sponsor Tom Quigley
Definition of anima:
NOTE: Just for the etymology of the word Anima dear, Connie! Anima, Animal, Animation and so on are words that come for the Greek word "Anemos" which in the Greek philosophy meant the divine wind which filled the universe and which wind "anemos" Man breathed in and became "Alive" animated!
-thank you for this Demetrios.
Note: I may have done this contest all wrong?
Wandering the virtual
green fields of home,
I open the farmyard gate
fall into a haze of retrospect.
I see a “LMS Black Five” Locomotive
bellowing upon a utilized line,
ghostly sparks tantalizing
the embankment.
Below a paddock ploughed,
sown with scattered seed
to germinate this memory
of that time past.
I stroll the hoary lane
beneath a pale cold eve,
discover soft mist stirring
upon the low moor, in warps
of time, giving in to modernization.
Mile high bracken upon the Beacon
under a clementine moonlight,
in shadows drifting to and fro
like the tide upon the silken sea.
At the old cottage
in Sugar Hill,
I see a cut glass vase, sitting supreme
upon the polished surface
with rose, carnation and dahlias,
near by a collection of love
in all those wonderful bluebells
from Nesfield.
“In the old Jam Jar”
Entered 2022 Poetry Marathon mile 14 contest
Sponsor Mark Toney
13/9/2022
absence of sound is the deepest void,
where silence reigns farthest spots,
in that silence is heart beat of thought,
swirling colours of hope, mist of dreams
the din of noise like a turbulent gale,
sweeps away benevolence of such purity,
seedlings of truth germinate in quiet,
when eyes are closed and mind at rest,
when breath recounts the value of life,
mind remembers the time that is lost,
time that only clocks the material,
because in the void there is no time,
so void it was when it all began,
void it will be when it all shall end,
between the voids is myth of presence,
absolute reality is total absence of all!
find that void that binds us all together,
in that void is silence and voice of God!
Premier contest winner (6)
written 8/08/2021
The Void poetry contest
free verse
Unseeking Seeker sponsored
I challenged you, and you finally took the bait.
This was a battle that I had to instigate.
But, you only came when I gave you a mandate,
So now I will be happy to accommodate.
Now Burger King Mandelay is on my hotplate!
"YOUR" SELF-MADE throne...I will proceed to desecrate.
But, I would love to know what made your head inflate,
Because each one of your slams sounded so innate;
Not worth the effort that it takes to conjugate.
You would be better off trying to slam KUWAIT!
I am a master poet. You can not relate.
When I started this race, I left you at the gate.
The second best slam is what we must nominate,
And the other spots are what we must allocate.
I apologize for writing rhymes that frustrate.
Stop whining! Step up! And try to eliminate!
SHUT UP! So that you do not self-incriminate.
Males should not be JEALOUS; That is a FEMALE trait!
Baby boy...You need to go back and incubate.
Climb into the ground, so that you can germinate.
Then, much later, I will come back and cultivate.
When pest step to the best, I have to fumigate!
The day you beat me is the day hell frigerates!
Just give the jury a chance to deliberate!
Vows get recanted as passions flounder
on the shoals of betrayal and remorse.
And drifting dreams navigate in darkness
whenever love starts to wander off course.
Beware of lust, a cunning emotion,
touting trickery and deceit as truth.
The seeds of trust oft germinate slowly,
and patience is a virtue new to youth.
Naive hearts are vulnerable to lies,
for the truth often appears conflictive.
Yet when love creates tears of happiness,
their salty-sweet taste can be addictive.
The feeling of being unique and prized
is awesome, combining two into one.
And purges the hurt from a broken heart,
instilling happiness, laughter, and fun.
Intimate moments make life worth living,
a time when your heart's devoid of despair.
Even though it is intangible, love's
physical impact is beyond compare.
To be loved is to feel wanted and whole,
instantly giving life a brand-new start.
For it's a miracle unto itself,
asking only that you believe your heart.
(Quatrain)
9/30/2017
..............Baby Steps Out..
..........There's a waiting world
.......Doctors nurses eager staff
......A doting father, mother in pain
.....It is said that we chose our birth
....An act of free will, desired destiny
....The paths are all charted by our will
....This birthday I decided to recall..loll
......A memory jog, back to time of birth
.........An unborn peeping into his future
..............The little steps on roads ahead
.................Unfolding destiny milestones
.....................Cherished moments in wait
.....................Some vivid some smudged
.....................Hand drawn on masterprint
..................Paths to travel people to meet
................The resting places n thirst stops
...............Careful leaps on stepping stones
...........The journeys that were yet to unfold
.........All vivid in storehouse before take-off
.....In the sojourn I was told: Precious is birth
...In baby steps or our giant strides a purpose
.The joys or sufferings are like passing screens
There is an axis a polestar guiding & connecting
A constant the unchanging in all that is changing
Distracted get our senses by colors cacophonies
.Not difficult to lose the picture in such a journey
...Precious is birth- holds many a promise....es ....
......like many seeds...finding ground.. ..yes !!
.........pods germinate ..stored... ..loved ..
...............friends near far ...unmet :)
......................thank you.....<3.....
.................................Fam ....frnds
.........................................................for remembering
.............................................................flowing wishes
POETIC BIO
Alliteration,the starting place, alongside
cinquains,apace in time,crystalline
lanterne and rhyme.Inspiration drew forth
footle,broken monoku for a while short
imagist was my style.Sequenced longer
poems metamorphose within this crysallis
changing into ekphrasis.Open,and free to be,
as you see,structured prose poetry.With
cadence and pause,others hear my voice,
aural phrasis now this poet’s choice.
as exampled below
What intimacy is its cause,perhaps
an immaculate conception of words;
too swift to comprehend,see or
recognise.The moment is there
and then is not.Gone with the wind
the seed of idea remains, to
germinate and gestate,fanned by a
mental fragrance of elation.Slowly
self-transcending a word into a phrase,
a sentence to a strophe;a rhyme
rides a waterfall of cadence,
into a chasm of verse. Terse or
long, the sonnet becomes a little song,
struggles to arrive.Thrust forth upon
my page;a bastard-born of pain
trickle down trauma
generations germinate~
treaties them like weeds
***
I Know
If I should abandon myself
In the seed of your heart,
I know, I would germinate.
If I should cry
In the lines of your palms,
I know, you would dry my tears.
If I should confide myself
In the sea of your love,
I know, I would not drown.
If I should lose my sight
In your brighter light,
I know, I would go no blind.
If I should lose my tongue
In the preaching of your course,
I know, you would not let me down.
If I should lose my hands
In your forever fullness,
I know, I would not be wretched.
If I should abandon myself
In the beauty of your mind,
I know, I would not regret.
If I should forget myself
In the caressing of your soul,
I know, my life would not be the same.
If I should take the bold step
And scale through those narrow paths to you
I know I would be victorious
English version by Liviu Martinescu
- a solo nijuin renku -
waves covered in wind
in our blood the salt of the sea
is seeking the shore
autumn clouds scattered
by viola d'amore
insatiably drinking in
the image of those conches
lurking amongst barren poplars
devious ways in
a square black against white
stuck between word and shadow
time
a salamander
I would twirl your red hair
in yellow rings
through rolls of thick fog
to meet the axolotl
bearing the face of my beloved
afloat away from our own selves
among unknown engravers
in the foreign harbour
anemones
sink the eternal sky
in the long forgotten bell
crickets have taken shelter
melting wax
covers the books
of metamorphosis
smoky chrysalides
rise from among vowels
the shape of the larva
slowly yields the contour
of your absence
my palm feels the vortex
of your frozen name
a scream snowed under
albatrosses with myrtle in their beaks
shattering the moon
how changed the last
water dwellings
a cluster of birches
from one being into another
music will pass
it's only the sound of time
that entices grass to germinate
amongst plum blossoms
the hourglass sends up its sand
up/down to the last grain
deep into lilac woods
fire devouring fire