Best Replant Poems
By Dawne Zacharias
The sexual roles have been reversed, woman now lead the home, men follow.
Men, Can you return and become in all righteousness, the leader of the home, an effective father, a role model for your family?
Women, Can you submit to his leadership, meaning the yielded, intelligent, humble obedience, to an ordained minister and will you support the leadership role of the husband? If you will the children will follow.
Ephesians 5:25
"Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church, and gave Himself for it."
How did Christ love the church?
With a sacrificial, giving, compassionate love, a husband's love should be like on to it.
Father's represent God. They should reflect, therefore, as closely as possible, the Creator. It will take work to replant and establish the binding taproot to our creator.
Acts 5:29- "We must obey God rather than man."
Child
follows
parent tryingly.
Step by step learning
everything with new start.
Rejoice and replant. Thoughts
become action and action blooms
~~~discovery~~~
blooms action and action become
thoughts. Replant and rejoice.
Start new with everything.
Learning step by step,
tryingly, parent
follows
child.
P.S. This shape poem is a palindrome.
Recycled Wisdom Lost
by Odin Roark
How common to recycle today
bottle,
cardboard,
can,
or bubble wrap.
How rare the regard for pleas from
mind,
heart,
memory,
wishing also to amend anew.
How satisfying,
To arouse the sleeping heart,
thrusting its comfort-beat
upon new rhythms made aware,
ensuing musical notes of clarity
not yet upon the staff of boundaries,
affording dissonance where only
harmony's familiarity once reigned.
To revisit memory
offering bygone experience,
wiser tools of perception,
scrambling dog-eared indexes
cross-referencing fact and fabrication,
allowing waste to fall free,
encouraging truth to persevere.
To sort through mind's many strategies,
discounting some,
discarding others,
dismantling exhausted cogs that
advance little the unknown begging at the door.
Such is…
To complete one's desire to remain conscious,
allowing distinction for that worth rebirthing
from chaff heretofore but a friction urging resolve.
How obvious to some:
the take-to-the-curb days of consciousness.
How misunderstood by others:
the smothering effect of effort
to treat excess destined as garbage.
How aware
those who
like the winged flights on high
weave today's nest
from yesterday's exhausted remnants,
knowing well the destiny of permanence
is but to replant where burnt forests once thrived.
And yet…
We often think recycling is confined to aluminum,
plastics, glass and other fabrications of man’s intellect,
but what of...
I passed a church today
glanced at the 12 foot cross
with hanging replica of Jesus
beaten, flayed, crucified.
I slowed my pace,
almost turned to ask:
"Why do they think you'll come back?"
I pondered the question
walking slowly in the darkness
trying to see in passersby
what he claims to have seen...
the divinity of man....
I once held out hope
that it was still hidden
buried somewhere deep
awaiting re-awakening
then tortured myself
wondering how it was
allowed to go to sleep.
Perhaps it was drugged,
incapacitated by some
satanic aphrodisiac
lulled into lethargy
waiting for someone,
anyone, to replant
the mustard seed
of faith, of belief
in themselves,
in their inherent nature
to express the divinity
that is their heritage,
their gift, their essence.
I walk still in the doubt
that he would return
to awaken a world
of slumbering saints
disconnected from the
ancestral roots of angelic expression
sitting idly inside a church
praising an iconic God
while denying
in their actions
the truth of His.
John G. Lawless
3/2/2021
It's Game Time!
A New Year, a new mind
Never rewind; fast forward to our grind time.
Our Shine illuminates the world with some simple rhymes but knowledge.
As we are attending college, pray for our profit.
Pray we stay honest in a barrel full of crabs.
This world is trying to grab our soul, eat us whole, sink us below, but we cannot go low.
The only way we know is home, heaven-sent.
We are Pitching to the kids because the grown mind is already corrupt.
Struck with illusions, pornographic confusion, we are living in ruins, building on top of death.
There could never be true peace until God sends back his seed, replant his garden.
Eden Reborn, it's more than a dream, but a vision that's has been created, outdated.
Walking by Faith, Pray we Graduate on our new start, never park
We going for it until we win it all
We are PoeticVibes
I had this old potted flower just sitting there on the window sill
And with each passing day and hour it was none the better still
Half dead it never really seemed alive with only a few leaves left
Where what once had thrived was some how taken like a common theft
So sad did it seem to be slowly wilting away right in front of my eyes
It's beauty I could no longer even see no matter how hard one tries
And with everything that I tried nothing ever seemed to work
So I sat there and sighed thinking what happened to all that perk
As a last ditch resort I decided to replant it with some new soil
And using just a little effort with this meager job I began to toil
Putting it back up in the window just to allow it to come to rest
And now at least I would know that I had tried my very best
The next day as I entered the room something seemed different
I noticed this little baby bloom and it had such a fragrant scent
And in the following days I really couldn't believe what I saw
That plant began to amaze, one of the prettier one's that I ever saw
And so it is with our Children for they are all planted somewhere
You remember way back then as everyone has once been there
So if the blooms always spoil and they just don't seem to grow
Put them in the proper soil and their beauty will certainly show
Is
global
warming
another
conspiracy?
It takes no genius
to figure out that if
you hack down millions and
millions of hectare of forests
each year and replant only
but fraction, there surely then
will be an imbalance, you will get
wrong answers, the sums will not work
out. So global warming is not just another
conspiracy but a global warming down to
earth gospel fact. Plant trees to feed the earth.
Plant trees to bring on the rains, plant trees all over
the world, plant trees to turn deserts into oasis's again.
Plant trees to prove that man cares, plant trees to keep
the drought away,. Planting trees to cool down the suffering
earth. Planting trees feeds the peoples, the animals and the birds
so now please
believe that
global warming
is a global
fact, plant
trees now to
save the world.
Plant trees for mankind to survive.
As a young man I was not very smart,
for brain cells they were never my game,
but I did what I could for without any doubt
through hard work I had ample to gain.
The cleverer folk seemed to learn things with ease
while I had to struggle indeed.
My memory it seemed so pathetic at times
that I had to replant every seed.
But working things out just came normal to me
and this is what carried me through.
Instead of just knowing the things I'd been told
I'd learn what the reason was too!
My total approach was directed by this
for to seek was the way I would gain.
It just didn't sink in what they meant me to know,
though I found it myself with some pain.
So the things I know now are unique to me
bought with searching, acceptance and time.
I know that my views are the bricks of my mind,
foundations built up in my prime.
But the things that I feel are the sounds in my soul,
they're the voices that all play their part.
No knowledge or learning can wash them away
for these things are entrenched in my heart.
A bond strong indeed to all mankind’s seed
where my being is mingled with soul,
the place I must go when my God makes it so
for it’s there, that I have my prime role.
Sometimes to share in everyone's care
but at times just to offer my hand
or to help someone there to release the despair
that they found as they entered this land.
Sometimes just a word is still needed here
to convince folk that death's not the end.
A few personal thoughts shared only by them
to prove they’ve still bonds with their friends.
At times evil people who never were nice
will cause people harm though the veil
and if not deterred from their mischievous ways
leave hate and despair in their trail.
It’s then that my strength is assisted by God
in fighting his cause with my mind,
for closing the pathways to evil‘s intent
takes an army of goodness combined.
No master's degree that I never would gain
could help bridge the path to the soul,
but the voices inside that you feel with your heart
Is the way that lead straight to the 'whole'.
So be not afraid of those who would scoff
then denounce you and chuckle with mirth,
let them proclaim that it's all in your mind,
for it is…. and it's been there since birth.
Ivor G Davies
The Earth is my Grandmother
caring and gentle, whispering
to me upon her breezes to nurture,
replant, enjoy the world. She
call to me in the echoes of the
mountains to remember, to relax,
to keep the world a better place.
The Moon is my Grandfather
rock hard and silent, watching
me, instructing me on how not
to turn Grandmother into a
barren wasteland. He is bitter
and yells form the skies raining
dust and debris, turning this
world into a bitter place.
I am the dam, keeping myself
from turning a gentle, flowing
world into a barren floodplain.
I honor my Grandmother and use
only what I need. I fear my
Grandfather and the destruction
I can cause. I am the dam,
steady, looking out for both sides.
My children are educated and grown
Live a thousand miles from home
A road of books paved their way
Still both read everyday
Passed years were but a score
They were what I was working for
I'd come home in the middle of the night
A little hand would turn on the light
"What are you doing awake?"
"Where have you been,daddy? You're late!"
While fighting back happy tears
From dreamland the other would appear
In the room of the daddy hugs
By the fireplace, on a furry thick rug
Each brought a book and a plea
"Read to me daddy, please?"
As if I were counting sheep
I'd read them back to sleep
Carry them in my arms
Tuck them in safe and warm
I drove a thousand miles
Straight through, just for a smile
Replant them back in tossed beds
To dream of a story we read
Now at night when I read a book
Think about the time that I took
A voice from proud memories
I hear, "Daddy read to me, please."
an original poem by the "poemdog" Daniel Turner
I spent my days inside my backyard for most of the summer
I have a pet visitor who loves cherry tomatoes and finds them succulent
and juicy. She checks the fence everyday for items that could be used for
cheek stuffs. I watch her flit this way and that and sniff my tomatoes
until I lose composure . I hate it when she leaves remnants atop my fence.
She definitely makes a mess of things with her squirrely shenanigans.
She's a finicky eater who eats only the red tomatoes and leaves behind the green.
One day a raccoon decides to emulate her by jumping onto my posts.
He is so hefty that he causes my beautiful plants to break and fall.
On that particular day, Ms Lady Furette stays at a distance. She knows
I am not pleased. As I replant, she patiently stays by the wayside and keeps
a watchful eye on me. "Tomorrow I'll bury the pulp behind that awful
beluga of hers " she thinks as she wags her tail. I eye her and wait for her
to throw me that furtive glance that says, " Aren't you done yet? "
The End.
When you pluck a flower, the tree remains silent When you remove a leaf, it reposes to relent
When you climb over, it shields When you sever a branch, it yields
When you harvest the fruits, it doesn’t demur When you cut a portion, it doesn’t murmur
When you replant, it don’t quit When you cut the whole tree, it is quiet
For the tree treats you, as its’ master! So your needs, happily it does cater!!
By silence, it symbolizes surrender It silently shows a noble order
The tree, to its’ master, contently admit Like the tree, to your Master, learn to solemnly submit!
Above poem is adapted from the eBook “WHEN DESTINY DATES! AND OTHER POEMS ON LIFE ” by Mr.V.Muthu manickam. Copyright is held by V.Muthu manickam.
I didn’t think I would miss him,
and I was right.
There are brown spots in the yard where
I scalped it with my lawnmower,
I don’t care, it’s just grass
and it grows to fast anyway.
He would have been sure to point
that out to me, if he’d hadn’t gone.
I’m glad his son took his old dog.
I can fix that hole in the fence now
that his dog won’t be coming
through it to beg scraps from me.
I sure won’t miss his bad haircut
and I’m glad I won’t have to laugh
at his poor, worn-out jokes --anymore
now that he’s gone.
I won’t have to show him
how to play dominoes, or work
on his beat-up car, or
fix his antique tiller before
we replant that garden in his back yard.
I will miss our tomatoes
now that he’s gone.
This ain't your depiction of forever
Actions confined by my feelings
Far from foreboding, distemper, fear, and double crossing you know all to well
Unsettled questions wielding a sword of ignorance
Lost dreams lifting your shield protecting
Me from me
You from me
Sorry
A meaningless word attempting to heal deep gashes
You see it regardless of you dismay
Hence your patterened placement of me in your garden laid low
Fighting myself choking on staged complacency.
Ripping up your flowers you place me back only because I equally destroyed your weeds
Sorry
A weak word in attempt to replant.
My pain creating naivness ignorantly asking you to be a superhuman driven by self hatred and a future unseen
Hoggish
My pain asking you to cherish my highs as repite for the dirtiest darkest lows
Sorry
and a weak thank you means nothing.
Only a sad acknowledgment to imprisioning you as my mortal soldier.
I didn’t think I would miss him, and I was right.
There are brown spots in the yard where
I scalped it with the lawnmower,
I don’t care, it’s just grass
and it grows to fast anyway.
He would have been sure to point
that out to me if he’d been here.
I can fix that hole in the fence now
that his old dog won’t be coming
through it to beg scraps.
I am not going to miss
that old dog either.
And I sure won’t miss
that bad hair cut he wore for years.
I’m glad I won’t have to laugh
at his poor old worn jokes anymore.
I won’t miss having to show him
how to play dominos, or work
on his old beat-up car, or
fix his worn-out tiller before
we replant that garden in his back yard.
I will miss them tomatoes thou,
now that he’s gone.