Humus Poems | Examples

Humus

Think much of the soil 
Long live the Annelida 
Dwelling deep, it quietly toils
Health-giving rewards of Magna

Protect the sacred land 
Be grateful for the rain and the golden rays 
By this, man can stand 
May he heed so that he may grow his days

Tribute To Dear Harry

Tribute To Dear Harry

       Dear Harry
               You always touched me
                        with your pretty poetry.

      As you say,
           ' Life's Lottery '
      '' Some born free
             some with the bill. ''
            A deal with compulsion.
                 No choice ! No voice !

       You speak ruthless truth so easily.
         'Red Alert'
         " To justify one's fatal end,
            innocent blood to shed.’'
                       Well said
        by Harry Horsman.

        His View on Century Twenty Two :
          '' To decompose the humus of society
             to clutter the gutter
             untill the arrival of the street cleaners.''
               So true !  Might be
                on Century Twenty Three.

          Harry will visit and revisit
           with more and more stronger personality
          through Centuries.
         My reverence to Harry Horsman.
         I believe in reincarnation.
               
  2023
             
 First Place

Posthumous Humus

Four dead Jesuits,
now confirmed as child
molesters, but when alive
these monsters’ crimes,
were covered in
obfuscation.

And when they passed,
were the Last Rites recited
and are they buried
in sanctified grounds?

May their rest be as
unrestful as their
victims lives and
and the fitful sleep
of their confessors.

A Wonderful Creator Thus a Masterful Craftsman

God established the color of His children
Yes, we are all of God's children
Well, we are one big extended family across the earth
More than that, we are brothers and sisters, kinfolks to each other
Our skin colors are an evolutionary adaptation and process due to the environmental conditions that we dwell in

Meanwhile, in the Garden of Eden, every color possesses a natural beauty within itself, but somehow evil drifts in the opposite direction of the will of God

Thus, religion has played a significant role in propagating hate, slavery, and racism for control, profit, and power over mankind

Well, God did not create black and white people, thus He used humus (Dark, earthy, rich, black soil) to create Adam

Furthermore, God specifically made a rainbow race of people
no shade of black nor shade of white - just red-orange, blue and green and a little bit of indigo

Notice that a rainbow doesn't have the colors black or white inside of the bending arc across the earth.

In summary, God is a wonderful creator and thus a master craftsman!

A Life In the Soil

a spineless mass meandering
 through tubular tracks
 of the soil.
    
great antennae towards the sky 
pointing in search perennial.

    in wait without end 
    for some great and weird frequency 
    to register, to be able to respond to.
 
  the pupa of a dead insect
  enclosed in dark chrysalis
  rusty like abandoned iron.
  the deep redness 
  of dried blood 
  stain it until it has become 
  beautified through evolving.  

      i am the worm.
      i turn dead muck into humus.

              such is life in the soil.

Until a New Dawn

Returning from the date, he hides impressions 
into the nooks and crannies of his mind
like a fed dog hides bones and then can’t find.
Don’t, filthy dog, don’t do that! Nothing freshens
the memory like a new date. The grave
of his beloved wife was fresh enough
to dig it up. Oh, weird twists of love,
macabre curves of lust that make him crave
charm in decay, enjoyment in remains
of beauty, sentimental memories
of kisses smelling humus, reveries
of the ideal submissiveness in chains
of death. It’s almost day. “Goodbye, sweetheart”. 
Oh, how time drags before nightfall tomorrow!
In sickness and in health, in joy and sorrow, 
through death, until a new dawn do us part.

09.12.2019
Memorial Of A Loved One Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke

An Aging Forest

I’ve lived an age encased in far-off woods.
This place is desolate in seasoned sun;
a place of darkness holds a muted light.
With oak, a sapling's life's always too dull. 
But air below its crown is trapped and locked, 
except for gusts erratic, tugging trees.

Recall when I was young, a sapling oak.
My roots that riddled clay and clung to earth
then germinated time in vast abyss. 
Their tendrils wake and drill through tender soil
that break the cold clay of deep memories
that brim and bud with toil each dismal day.

I master time over ages and years
to grow and weather storms and rot endure.
Others consumed by man’s desire, all fell
to build furniture, homes and ships of war.
My arms contorted, fertile acorns grew,
that seethed with life, to seed the humus buds.
Their shoots were future's oaking legacy.

The sky is viewed in red. Like spider webs, 
my fingers ember ebony and black
that reach and call for help from sun and stars. 
I plead for birds to fly toward the sky
and hope to join spirits haloed above.
In flaxen haze my ambered essence flies
through skies azure to blaze with helios.


A contest on aging
Emile Pinet



1 June 2019

Sweet Poison

I know the charm I wear - fragrance as necklace.
 I'm a strange flower watered by bitter tears.
 My nectar's sweetness O bee buzzing near, is death with a friendly face!
 Woo me with sweet romance at a distance - poison my beauty bears.

 Give no more hope to my fears - I can not survive without tears.
 My thorns, don't pretend to kiss as a petal.
 I've stung my admirers- I slay my lovers.
 Dear bee, avoid my enticing nectar - it is gall.

 I've felt touched by your love poetry-I may not be kind to tell you my       story  
 You and I, flower and bee- bride and groom would be
 Yet I plead that you should not be drunk with dreams for they can delude.
 I am the horror tale of every flower and tree.

 Fly away! The field is full with the sweet and beautiful
 You deserve no sad fate from a loveless plant.
 I cry ruefully like an owl "Don't be fooled!
 Or you'll add up humus beneath me when you depart."

Bachelors and Spinsters

Unmarried clays they are
dreaming to pair with humus
to fertilize fragile red soils
destined to become poor dust
for the joy of fauna and flora
to enhance earth’s burdens

Growing Seedlings Within Walls

There are seedlings grown well somewhere
behind the walls in natural fertile soils
they are monocotyledonous fresh seedings
the radicles wake up first before plumule
to gain firm ground for branches, leaves
but some farmers do it with wit in style
watering roots with alcohol and iodine
pouring steaming water to remove pests
some do remove soil from the roots
allegedly to provide freedom and aeration
fertilizers, humus that are indispensable
are starved off the hungry, sick seedlings
small pebbles are spread in and around
to register beauty, seriousness and duty
and the seedlings grown behind walls
dry up with survivors yielding very little
but the farmer is proud, loud, and happy
to bolster pride the farmer packs leaves,
poor seeds, stems and export to markets
But then the farmer puzzles me;
Why claim farmer-ship but of scandals?
every activity of raising even bedbugs,
culturing snakes and parasites is divine
to best of sincere ability one must work
and it’s more demanding if it is humanity
at the center of functions and goals

Meru Mythology

Poachers and lumbermen illegally cleared
wild animals and century-old trees in the Mt. Kenya forest;
a sacred forest in Meru.
Angered by this deeds,
the Njuri Ncheke, council of elders,
sacrificed a ram to the mountain gods,
and from the gods' realm emerged a python-like snake!
If any trespasser is bitten by the snake,
he or she slowly turns to humus!
There's a boy who tested the forest curse,
and grazed his goats in the forest;
they all died......!
A poacher once chased a wild boar,
only to be swallowed by a lake which was a grass
field, only to become a grass field once again!
Dear folks,
don't try getting into the forest,
without the blessings of the elders.....

Good For Soup

Look at bulls
in blue suits
well fed, swollen
from the humus
of peasant labor
Good soup
they would be
if offered
for cocktails

She Is the Liquid Night

She is the liquid night
The fluid obsidian chalice
She engulfs me

Her breath is frangipani
It is the air I breathe
She permeates me 

In her starlit vision
In her saltiness
She inspires me

She is in lahara
The gifts she bares
She subdues me

Her laughter is gold
It is the sunlit day
She uncovers me

In her swaying presence
In her sand strewn hair
She desires me

She is the fallow earth
The orgasmic humus bed 
She gestates me

Her touch is dewpoint
It wets my thirst
She precipitates me

In her silken sweat
In her pounding pulse
She receives me


Contest: Limerence theme

Observer

Rich humus wafts through nostrils to my mind,
Musty fragrance of decay and rebirth.
The Milky Way in front, the grass behind
Strapped to the front of our rocketship Earth.

The tent flap gently rustles in the breeze.
Damp soil beneath starts to embrace my spine.
A chain of ants crawl gently ‘cross my knee
Roots of my soul sink into loam behind.

In cosmic terms, this moment but a blink,
Yet it’s my time to worship at this shrine.
Deeper into our mother’s breast I sink
For now this miracle is only mine.

A lonely reverie? It’s plain to see
The universe watches itself through me.

3/8/16

Fantasia Erotica Iii: the Dots

My darling! Tasting every piece of you when recorded
compresses the entire capacity of space.
Coming so close to keep our hearts taped
makes me share favour’s throne in its own empire.
I sing your praises and disturb nature’s peace
b’cos of the fantastic sweetness of your dot existing in a pair.

Its not just a sensual anatomy on the front side of your skin
but gentle, explicit and highly rated by the consciousness of men,
planted like a leafless stalk in the midst of well rounded carved humus
seldom growing to a shrub when injected with erotic transmitters.
Your vertical lips may possess the control buttons 
to my accessory limb when they begin the episodes of your longing
but they will have to pass through the toll gates of these paired dots
so tender and exciting but neurotic and psychotic to men.
Whenever they stand out to appreciate the sun,
natural laws demand, I stretch forth my hands in full acknowledgment
of their awesome beauty and willingness to my trademark adventures.

• Short Humus Poems
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