Best Replanted Poems
Adopted early after birth
Replanted back into the earth
From small to tall, a tiny root
Withstanding all and resolute
It whispered and it whistled
Every wind song that it knew
It's verdant needles bristled
Glistening in frost and dew
A friend to all both large and small
Seeking refuge in it's shade
To rest and recline, with the fresh smell of pine
And a songbird serenade
From green, to red, to rust, to brown
Giving all it had left, back to the ground
A pine that spent it's time worthwhile
Living life with grace and dying with style
It taught me how to dance in the wind
Whenever it howls, be willing to bend
It taught me how to whistle a song
While giving back, as life moves along
Like you and I, trees live and die
When death comes young we question "why?"
The answer is, it's all by design
Down to the death of a hardy young pine.
Daniel Turner
Categories:
replanted, meaningful, tree,
Form:
Rhyme
It wasn't the usual Halloween night
Of parties and goblins, of which there'd been many
It was a year of big changes, for our family had moved
At ten years old, I was still struggling and shy
And, in a brand new school, where no one gave me an eye
I'd been replanted and torn,, forlorn and alone
Late in October...uprooted and lost
On Halloween night, it rained and it poured
It seemed the end of the world...I was unhappy and bored
Leaving what had been so familiar and sure
Where our old street had been filled, with a million new thrills
Now, here in the boondocks, ...no one came to the door
I was dressed to go out...but storms drenched the night
My mom understood....and tried to keep bright
She went up to her room, made up her face
She combed up her hair, until it stood on it's roots
Covered her face with black fireplace soot
She threw on her robe, and pulled on dad's boots
Crept out the back door, and to the front porch
When the doorbell rang....I jumped in delight!
Trick-or-treaters had come to our house this dark night!!
When I opened the door, at first I didn't see
It was mom, ...trying to hard, bring me some glee!
She grabbed me and laughed and pulled me to come
Out into the rainstorm....up the road we would run
We ran in the downpour, getting soaked to our skin
Laughing and yelling....such fun it had been!
Later that night, we warmed by the fire
She let me stay up....no one was tired
So cozy and warm...no longer so cold
With popcorn, and candy...and the ghost stories told
That one Halloween, on that night of the storm
Was the best Halloween....and reminds me of home.....
I'll never forget when each Halloween comes
The candy, the fun.... and the gift from my mom.....
Categories:
replanted, childhood, halloween, holiday, me,
Form:
Narrative
A strange blue rose - alone
midst an array of clustered flowers -
a few of them her friends -
the shy violets, lovely white lilies, and bold marigolds.
In the gracious garden spot the traveler singled her out -
his gaze resting admiringly upon her.
Each day as he passed that spot,
she was the one he sought. . .
And day by day the traveler came around,
speaking through the fence softly in sweet sounds
that wafted her way with the wind.
Persistent wasp, in guise of a honeybee,
he tried so hard to wear that flower down. . .
till unexpectedly, he strode right through the gate,
and blissfully ignorant of a rose's care,
plucked her up, swept her high up into the air,
and uprooted that blue rose from her safe soil.
But he did not a gardener make.
Knowing nothing of roses,
he knew very little of any flower he pursued.
Moreover, one mere blue rose cannot long compete
with the other bright fanciful flowers
which, along that traveler's path, he was sure to meet.
Those soft whispered words
that caressed her blossomed cheek
soon ceased.
And the water to her soul (if a rose has a soul,
he did not care to know), stopped its flow.
Scars he left -
new thorns on her stem that grew outward
from his cruel cut,
but she'd go on. . . .
Long time replanted now in solid refuge ground,
the strange blue rose
has gained self-understanding,
that one thing for himself (she imagines)
which the traveler she so briefly knew
has never found.
Categories:
replanted, allegoryday, blue, rose, flower,
Form:
Personification
He was airlifted to another place.
The heaths, the dales,
the high ridges,
all began to slip away
under throbbing wings.
(When you are unearthed,
roots still wriggle,
flecks of native mud
cling to your senses
and come with you.
A sediment makes its way
inside wrinkles and pockets.
Places you have slept on,
waded across,
had breezy sex over,
tether your turf).
He began to plant.
He left lichen trails
on the faux marble floors of shopping malls.
he placed moss under plastic rocks.
In time he discovered good clay in a new land.
If asked:
to what country he belonged?
He would show the dirt
under his fingernails.
Categories:
replanted, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
It's used as an afterthought, fattening festive
arrangements for Mother's Day, Easter,
someone's birthday. An underrated vine,
enhancing center-stage flowers whose star-power
doesn't wear well. It's the "coming attraction"
that's there after the clapping dies down,
replanted by doorstep or gravestone. "Grow,"
I say, "Change my life with your traveling beauty,
your common denominator, your scrawling
signature seldom sought for autographs.
Snaking around graves at our family plot,
it's an ongoing gift, out-giving the giver
with its "overwhelming darkness", reminding us
where there is life, there is also death. Surviving,
thriving in hanging pots the less hardy exit,
it surprises and delights, reaching down from limbs
of trees for soil, unchallenged there in pine straw
until tender tendrils insinuate their way
to daylight through tapestries of needles
When the ivy becomes dense, I will know
you are there: ivy of my heart, ivy of essence,
the graceful way it swings and sways, how
it takes to new habitat in the way you, Julie,
cut a swath through New York City after lifetimes
in the easy South. We are old souls, older
than the hedera, cousin to ginseng, reminder
of the movement of the heavens, the ability
to bring things together. You were shelter,
the poets' headpiece, bringing peace
to my household. Resurrection and rebirth,
Julie, in this Easter of ivy.
Categories:
replanted, friendshipeaster, cousin,
Form:
Narrative
In an effort to immortalize you,
I gilded ocean size frames in gold leaf
and painted your portrait with peacock feathers dipped in oils.
I spelled out your name in bumble bee wings
still quite attached to tame bumble bees
hovering in obedience and formation in the sky
I built a piano from felled red wood trees
and carved your likeness on each key
which I then filled up with ebony and abalone polish
I traveled to Old Russia to the Crimean forest
and pulled every wildflower up by it's roots
and replanted them just for you, on the cliffs, overlooking the Black Sea.
I tamed a black leopard and rode on her back
'round the world, with a banner, a list of your accomplishments
flowing in silk for miles behind me, past onlookers reading your life.
I sang gypsy music, as a siren on the wind
while I wept and flooded each street with the depth
of one tenth of the emotion you harnessed and kept at bay in your infinite quiet.
I started with one person, your granddaughter, with your blue eyes
her sitting on my lap, looking at me with a maturity past 3 years of age,
and imprinted every memory of you in the air, for her to grab.
You are not immortalized in portraits, or wings, or notes.
You are not immortalized in flowers, or banners or sirens.
You are immortalized, forever remaining, in the humble prayers of this innocent child.
Categories:
replanted, death, family, life, loss,
Form:
Free verse
The estate of my spreading life
has been plowed over many times.
Plantations have withered and been replanted,
grain fields have turned to dust,
have laid fallow for years
yet now the corn is high and golden again,
trees felled and burnt now grow tall.
Mind body and spirit maps
have had to be redrawn,
shorelines and boundaries moved.
However now I can walk my mind back into past times
and circle all the seasons of my existence
at once.
Barn doors are wide open to tomorrow lands,
My earth is still rich and good,
my store runneth over.
I am not the master here, just a worker following
a tilling, plowing, and seeding Owner;
I am charged only to oversee
this landscape of me.
When this soil I have worked
at last is blown away on the winds of time
a plantation of plenty
will be reflected in the mirror of eternity,
and I will be a servant of my most High Self
at home once more in my Master's mansion.
Categories:
replanted, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
I have always liked the hollow dark,
the cave, the sealed carcass of the night,
the lightless womb of the closed seed.
You said you were human,
and I laughed until my belly shook the earth.
I Imagined your bones cracking
from the heat of a great fire.
I ground my teeth with the ash
of a few brittle words.
"No one is 'human',
we are alien seeds replanted,
into a fertile blindness.
Humans are the shells,
the pods, the skin of a reality
they have yet to realize or reveal.
The garden,
what you call 'soul',
is a transplanted being,
it lives concealed,
within that alien you.
Keep that garden,
hidden from any who would,
proudly claim to be
remotely human!"
Categories:
replanted, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
I was born in a muddy time
created to be a field of broken bricks.
Years wove their weeds.
There was hope,
enclaves of suburban heavens
old men in grim pubs spoke of.
You might think
that I pulled myself together,
dug my boots out
of that land of bitter muck.
Not I,
I killed the weeds only,
carried still, the rubble and smut
inside my belly for decades
only to give birth to an inner life,
small green shoots I then replanted
in earthenware pots,
tokens left on the bare platforms
of railroad stations
Categories:
replanted, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
It is crop time in Beantown.
The people of the City have the seeds to plant.
Their best harvest is the orange that is yellow.
Jake Castle is a great farmer.
His wife, Nefreda Maria, is one of the conservators.
Their yellow orange yields a greater harvest.
The children of Beantown are full of excitement.
They are the ones that florae.
This year is hyperactive because six years have passed.
The yellow orange is now in vegetation.
Once picked, the seeds are replanted
making the next garnering even more fulfilling.
This year Jake has a plan.
He will visit Giant’s land to plant the yellow orange to grow afar.
He desires the experience of a different crop.
He knows the rich soil of Giantvillism will bring forth a larger fruitage.
This is an ultimate gain to a more endowed yield.
Therein, the next six years will culminate in both places.
Once the harvesting was completed in Beantown,
Jake journeys to Giant’s sphere of influence.
His bag of seeds was his gift to the Land of the Big People.
Giant of the Big People embrace Jake
while Maddy shouted “A hearty hello to Jake.”
Tomorrow they will scatter the seeds of the yellow orange.
Six years later…
Beantown sings as the yellow orange gleams
in the photosynthesis of the sun.
Every family harvested their fruit and
people from other realms travel to purchase the fruition.
Beantown economy flourishes.
In Giantvillism, Giant harvest was grandiose.
The yellow orange fruition was up to
twice the size of Beantown’s fruitage.
Jake and Nefreda along with their three children journeyed afar
bringing back seeds of Giant’s yellow orange to grow in Beantown.
The next six years will make all very proud.
But for now, Beantown wealth is the show stopper.
All over talks about how those people of little means
henceforth a world of meaning.
______________________________________|
Penned on December 30, 2014!
Categories:
replanted, character, children, environment, faith,
Form:
Lay
When I found you
you were like a plant
trampled in the mud
of your tears.
I picked you up
and replanted you
in the garden
of my love.
And I let my sun
shine on you
and my rain
nourish you.
And I watched you heal
and grow, and flowered...
Now I cannot stop
looking at you -
you are the most
beautiful thing
I've ever seen.
Categories:
replanted, love,
Form:
Free verse
I moved onto the farm when I was eleven,
To the farm eroded of trees.
I’d stand on the hill in the middle of summer,
Unshaded in a blistering breeze.
Then the winter shook hands and my work it began,
Iron barrow, saplings, and a spade.
I planted, I nurtured, hundreds of trees,
Before I realised I’d been betrayed.
It took a plague of rabbits a week to destroy,
Every tree in my little plantation.
So I replanted each tree, surrounded with plastic,
In a war of land occupation.
Then the sheep we had, broke through a fence,
And devoured every little one.
Damn, new strategy, wire mesh for each,
The regrowth had, now, just begun.
Then a drought, “you’re kidding” every tree turned to dust,
Every tree I’d planted with care.
The drought broke when I was fifteen, so I replanted the hill,
Replanted on a wing and a prayer.
Now, thirty years since, you can’t see the hill anymore,
It’s blanketed by leaves on the trees.
You can now stand on the hill in the middle of summer,
Shaded with a cool, calm, comfortable breeze.
Categories:
replanted, farm, success,
Form:
Quatrain
The festive season is nigh on
give thoughts and prayers, to those who have none
of the simple luxuries,most take for granted
the felling of trees,mostly never replanted.
The elderly afraid to heat their homes
the rich don christmas lit dwellings, and garden gnomes.
Our troops all around the world,families apart
parents and children missing them, with all their heart.
No fun at all people living the street
a hungry stomach,searching for heat.
Most passing them by,no second care
what if one day,they were there?
The starving millions throughout the land
walking bare feet,on rubbled sand.
Christmas morning being just another day
it`s the 21st century,it shouldn`t be this way.
Giving thanks to what i have got.
Sponsor Leonora Galinta
Contest Name CHRISTMAS EPIC POEM
Categories:
replanted, caregiving, christmas, peace,
Form:
Rhyme
Wisdom
awaits discovery
experience The explorer
pearls of productive insight
needing excavation
exposed and nurtured
by devoted empathise
then replanted
within the fertile fields
of open minds
Categories:
replanted, integrity, society, wisdom,
Form:
Free verse
Sunflowers in Winter
I planted seeds, at the wrong time,
never thinking they would come up.
Why would I do that?
Hope, faith, joy, and ultimately…
God.
He told me to keep moving when things were dead stop.
He told me I had value, when the bills were more than I could pay.
He told me there would be enough, and there was.
Every time.
I probably would do better, if I followed directions.
If I could do more in an hour than I do.
If I had a better memory, as I once had before.
If…,
if.
I am just me. I bring my bible to church and read along.
I do the work set before me.
I miss things on the dishes, and forget to put out the trash.
Not all the time, but some time.
Did you know that the ends of celery and lettuce could be replanted?
Did you know you could make your own soap, and pour paint pictures?
The world is moving faster, and I seem to be slowing down.
I listened (to God’s word), and continue to follow… “move forward”.
I will just have to be the last one there.
That too…
will be okay.
Categories:
replanted, courage, happy, motivation, relationship,
Form:
Free verse