I didn’t plant that garden tree
But thinking, I just let it be
I knew I should have cut it out
But felt within to let it sprout
And so, as seasons came and went
I pruned this tree, its bole I bent
Around the gable of my shed
But left the limbs above my head
The years passed by and I grew old
I hated heat and shunned the cold
My garden work became a chore
As summer days my patience wore
But resting underneath that tree
Allowed me time to watch and see
The beauty of my garden wrought
And all the neighbored friends it brought
A bunny comes to taste my beets
While shaded so, I rest my feet
A bumble-bee’s contralto thrum;
A promise of much more to come
Badgers, robins, the house finch red
All come with hopes of being fed
And I, too tired to wield my hoe,
Am glad I let that elm tree grow.
Eli, Eli, bear unto me,
Thy brimming boughs
Of plump olive seeds;
Eli, Eli, bear unto me,
The bole of thy love
Hath risen from spring.
(after a painting by John Constable)
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day.
And ravens, weathering wild thermals, glint
blue-black beneath these clouds of graphite grey.
The strong, squat tower, formed of ancient flint,
has settled in the landscape, like the bole
of some decaying oak. The long-dead lie,
obscured by nettles. Nestling on its knoll,
the tiny temple shoulders out the sky.
What is compact is beautiful, to me.
Design with deftness guarantees a grace
that grander gewgaws lack: economy
is elegant, sublime in straitened space.
The more I practise, play and ponder on it,
The more I love the stature of the sonnet.
To have your picture on the face of a stamp,
Is a honor reserved for the ones who cultivated change
Among the mèlange of inspiring faces,
Lays the face of someone who served on the basis,
Of freedom
Behind a small black and white picture,
A mighty face lays
With eyes of a fighter,
eloquent hair, neatly parted
The words,
Black white
Trust danger
Defiance hope
All line the bottom
Words of hope, words of courage
That picture is of a strong willed soul
Oh what a wonderful life, one bloke stole
Late at night, she deployed her clandestine runaway
With peers, she warily walked, not knowing where she was destined
Little did she know,
She would make this trip many times again, not knowing what each bestowed
Harsh winter nights, where the breeze grew as cold as coal,
She walked, walked and walked
Till’ days grew into the lines of a bole
She is a freedom fighter
She is a activist
She is a mother
She is a motivator
She is Harriet Tubman
Usps Stamps Poetry Contest - 07/04/25
Sponsor: Robert James Liguori
I didn’t plant that garden tree
But thinking, I just let it be
I knew I should have cut it out
But felt within to let it sprout
And so, as seasons came and went
I pruned this tree, its bole I bent
Around the gable of my shed
But left the limbs above my head
The years passed by and I grew old
I hated heat and shunned the cold
My garden work became a chore
As summer days my patience wore
But resting underneath that tree
Allowed me time to watch and see
The beauty of my garden wrought
And all the neighbored friends it brought
A bunny comes to taste my beets
While shaded so, I rest my feet
A bumble-bee’s contralto thrum;
A promise of much more to come
Badgers, robins, the house finch red
All come with hopes of being fed
And I, too tired to wield my hoe,
Am glad I let that elm tree grow.
Cleopatra,
I investigate your eyes
through Nile mist that weaves,
jade butterflies that never fly
sable tresses hanging over leopards
bole skin on the border of Venusian dreamcatchers
Gilded diadems dance as burned suns
radiate from golden flakes of your crown
lightning demarcating the border between genius
— and ambition
wars are fought easier than your heart is won;
Cupid grieves your connections
Great men fear being made lesser by You
She of the God-like Mind
made Immortal for her Wise Counsel
I’m no prisoner of Fear nor Envy
nor Love
only Fate & Chance
Passionate war’s trompe-l’œil
A Shepherd's Day by Suzanne Alexander (SA)
Wee, from East then West!
Seen one side then Next.
Feel a beautiful day, start is laid
Sjoe, from sting of Ray.This said,
Baa, from Ewe - distinct face!
Moor from one side at annex she graze,
Aye mi smeel yummy scone buttered.
Lighe nam lips whilst I muttered.
Shoo, splish-splash rain came unforseen
raining stairs of rods clearly seen
soil exposed with heathered bole
the red pigment irks the soul.
Ewe, come, sinn cùm sàbhailte!
to the huge bole hole, wee time, to shed.
Close jist ower the way so near,
baa, from rascal Mule , mi clu from ear.
C' mon ye little mule so blue
Safe its here by bole used as hue.
The noo! Mule. He came then settled.
Jack Snipe seen in marsh nestled.
Far in the distance a thunderclap
Meat today with pap.
With money earned just a little.
and hands brittle.
As the rain drops snipes my face,
Content I am to run , this race
Yet a sadness for unfair wage
But joyful not being in a cage.
Day, from graft then came night
Hame my manor is in sight.
Safe the ewe and mule I put,
aye, that'll dae. Day in tear and joy shut.
Though the monsoon isn’t as cool as in the past,
they snuggle under the blanket.
This rarely used heirloom provides them
with an ethereal warmth.
The love-light illuminates their woollen chat room.
Every morning,
he goes to the north,
and she to the south.
They rust in work and worries.
Now they knowingly forget their duties,
don’t rack their brains with tomorrow.
They pray the rain to be steady,
the air polar-cold.
She entwines his bole and branches.
He plucks the red strawberries on the blanket.
Bites.
Juice oozing out is an elixir.
Thus,
they pick a precious day from the carousel of time.
First published in The Literary Hatchet
i wished to plant the seedlings of black tupelo
shumard oak, sugar maple, biloba-ginkgo
for its reddish yellowish beauty on the meadow
For its dance on the air with the wind blow
green all were lured to my eyes
but now on the midcourse of the fly
from its bole by death dry and cleave
autumn birds hovering on the air
trying to catch falling leaves
while children gambol on colorful litter-leaves on the soil
before the wind push it far and make all spoil
Love or hate
Each thought close eyes doom daam
Cracker blind do you miss when I say
good night when you sleep keeping your
Cellphone near your dreams
Our pure relationship with tie of fashion
Called to reach not till I failed in life the ten years I hate my hat off different perspective behavior and road to trip to
Find you just it's a taste of love
Hate
I'm sorry for the answer of any questions that because my identity is the fraction of bole nath I feel you in memory of past life can I say good bye NO it's my stubern that tell me what are you geting from this bulldy life your words Is my hate
my hate is my hat..
Thanks madam
With love all
Jagdish Bajantri
Om kaar
Identification off my soul is I
You are into the music with a meltification notes your bum bole your blessings are taken by sin
You are far away from arrogance and kill the formalities refrain to search his cilam as a parayness
You sprect Shiva (a) you dance with your friends on your dead body
You are ten dik avatars hey bole bum bole I my self feel that I am your ansha Sristrikarta vaibhav vilas
Har Har mahade
With love all
Jagdish Bajantri
Sunset spill,
Evening thrill,
Serenade,
Creeping shade,
Summer stroll,
Frog on bole,
Moonlit trees,
Pleasant breeze,
Hoot owl hour,
Rose power,
Rich red Mars,
Porch guitars,
Wild chatter,
Lavender,
Limpid moon,
Cry of loon,
Starry park,
Plum hued dark,
Hued flora,
Scent aura,
Teal ducks quack,
Love is back!
Grassy knoll,
Dreams unfold.
IDEALISM
Liberal, Modest, Noble, Open Personality
deserves reverence and adoration,
simultaneous admiration
to be followed by every soul.
Dishonesty, Envy, Falsehood, Greed, Hate
to control, to kill or to drive out.
Revenge in mind, never to sprout.
Peace of human should be the goal.
Abolish Betrayal! Crookedness: Do Explode.
For conspiracy to confront
in social or domestic front
stand straight as stable-rooted bole.
Respect Strong Truth, Universal Values
of morality on journey of life,
whether at ease or at strife.
In drama of life play courageous role.
08/02/21
First Place
Alpha Lines Contest by Joseph May
Her heart
Her heart give me a strength
I have a wings to fly but it want to obsessed to reach higher and higher
I hunt many sleep in to catch her dreams but she wants me to count
Many open eyes doom to search her teddy sleep
Her heart give me a strength
She knows I am deaf and dump with out her heart so
She pray to bole naath he is like you please boon my heart which is in him
Her heart give me strength from the first day of life in this universe
With love all
MRI Jagdish Bajantri ETD
Om namh shivay
Paal paal leyta mai sansey maa tere dhakan ki awaz par
Dhayan mai dhayan lage jisme ho bas devi apki awaz
Na raaza aaye koi kila na koi
Mandir bas intazar karti ho shamsano mai
Roz ogey jo sooraj garibo ka bharthi ho peyt kripa may daya bahva onkey mathey par
Shis dhery jo kar mahanant aagey badey
Bas ek vinti mere door hi shai kanth par sadah rhey om bole.
Om. Maa
With love all
MRI Jagdish Bajantri ETD
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