Long Herb Poems
Long Herb Poems. Below are the most popular long Herb by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Herb poems by poem length and keyword.
There is no moon tonight
Yet romance dances in the quiet air
There is no sunlight...in which we can bask
But there is our incredible light
Shining in me for you
As if it were the first kiss
The first embrace
My God
You are upon me in an embrace
Your fore head touches mine and I know your love is true
Honest pure absolute
I know our love never ever lied
It was quiet when it needed to be quiet
But our love was like a flood
A cascading torrent
A magnificent fire
It engulfed me
Refused me
Owned me
But it also fed me...
Nurtured me...grew me like a flower or an herb
From seed
In this garden
Please take your time
All the time you need
I will wait quietly like a seed for your water to come
My life is weather-stained with years,
my world a garden ravaged . . .
Since a child I have been collecting scars,
s c a r s that will never heal;
and storms shake the ocean of my sleep,
the waves of time keep rolling over me endlessly.
Oh, scars are the p a t h to the soul,
and my S O U L is a labyrinth;
of jagged, sharp pieces,
and my d r e a m s are flowers that have died.
My scars a long chain of heavy lead,
Yet, I drink from the deep blue sky each day;
but the rare herb, happiness, hides away from me,
my heart a window open but a door firmly closed.
Oh, will L O V E come to me unbidden?
Will a lover fight for me?
I dwell amid the dregs of past sorrows,
that hang from d r i p p i n g branches in the grey;
woods of my mind. . .
Will he follow the road where scars are the path to the soul?
Will he battle the demons in my S O U L ?
Yes, my life is weather-stained with years,
and my world a garden ravaged;
yet, my h e a r t is open wide . . .
_______________________________
September 7, 2018
Poetry/Free Verse/Scars on My Soul
Copyright Protected, ID 18-1220-316-01
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Submitted to the contest, Strand Choice 9
sponsor, Brian Strand
Honorable Mention
I fed the wild red cardinals
A special mix of seeds
They dropped them in my herb garden
Which now grows mostly weeds
Like bramble briars and poison
Oak with deadly effects
Upon the gardener's allergic skin
Which now is itchy specked
I have been trying to do a little care in my flowering plants beds.
Well, there is five sisters and poison oak growing plus bramble
briars..I am very allergic to poison oak..I have about decided
that I need to get a professional person to come in and dig
it all up and let us restart with some new plants..Now what
professional will come in to clear out poison oak???
thinking back
pulling out
putting on
vynil dressed in
a comfortable
coat
static free
stylistically
always came
with let me
roll up my sleeves
rummaging through
my own ancient
history believing
this is what i grew
up on and so
tapping my arm
finding a vein
i put the needle
on and within
me shoots
hot
things
forgotten
(my Mum always
twisting the knob
randomly to
today's station
[drum roll]
jazz
and
so we
would take
it in
not by
nose sniffing
but a russian
roulette of what
was played around
sometimes
symphonic
or r&b
whatever
i got my
kicks
off) and
follow
me
to the depths
if deeper
seeing
through my eyes
an album cover
more then
for me ****
at a young
age
Form:
Some sounds like the noise of bees
Hovering around the atmosphere
Or like rain drops on our roof tops,
I opened my round window
The window of my hut,
I wanted to know
Why my sleep won't mellow,
All i saw was sorrow
As the atmosphere turned green.
The cassava farm was over shadowed
Banana plantation feebled,
Apple orchard struggled
Yet their efforts stifled,
Lemon grass for mama's herb withered,
Rose flower shattered and our
Groundnut farm tattered.
Suddenly,the green army fled,
Tears exuded from my eyes
As i sputtered in pain,
Mother filled with melancholy,
Father tore his heart in grief
Villagers hope captured and crippled,
So their travail displayed as
Everyone mourned over
The locust plaque.....
BY: CHARLES MELODY (LIGHTNING INK).
Hear ye the testimony of my worth as a Dandelion:
Since I belong to a family of flowering plants
I’m a marvelous creation* of the Supreme Designer
With a blessed role not only to beautify nature
But also to glorify my Creator with my beneficial wonders.
Though recognized as the quintessential garden and lawn weed
I can boast of my high nutritional value, attested by research facts…
Greatly edible, tasty am I both raw and cooked
From the roots to the blossoms: as steamed, breaded, and fried;
I’m even used to make wine or as a coffee substitute.
Being a multipurpose herb, all my parts are useful…
I’m revered for my traditional medicinal properties
For centuries, I treated a myriad of physical ailments
With my diuretic and laxative strength of potassium content
Including being a liver tonic and an effective wart remover.
Beholding me midst my yellow color, you can feel heat’s radiance
Since I symbolize the sun and its power
Representing happy unions, resilience and re-birth…
With my name’s meaning as “the official remedy for disorders”
I, Dandelion, yield to God for me to praise Him in doing His will.
*Psalm 98:1 O sing unto the LORD a new song; for he hath done marvellous things: his right hand, and his holy arm, hath gotten him the victory.
April 6, 2019
3rd place, "DANDELIONS" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Line Gauthier; judged on 4/17/2019.
Edited on September 1, 2025
3rd place, "Let The Flowers Grow Again" Poetry Writing Premiere Contest
Sponsored by Mystic Rose Rose; judged on 9/2/2025
Ashamed of all the tears, the pain,
Pouring from her heart, like rain…
Feelings shattered but who could she blame?
Hearts are broken and lives – sometimes changed.
Lives, sometimes remain, never spoken,
In darkness, haunted by the shadows that reign,
Silhouettes of a heart who can’t, can’t – can’t
Let go of the past, the fears, the tears, all the years,
Bleeding sorrow and regret,
Losses that remember what if is to feel rejected,
By the very one who held you – helped you to forget,
The sting of a yesterday filled with grief,
Aching like the fresh tingle of a gash,
Melancholy flowing black,
Denial, dread, denouncing the past,
Hesitating to remember where love might last,
Beyond the fading of a tear who falls, quietly,
Surrounded by memories, yesterdays,
When life wasn’t blurred by the sensations,
Impressing on the heart, deepest expressions
Rebuffing the creativity,
Colors of light, glowing intimately,
Remembering why there is glory in grace,
Soothing in the stories that abide,
Sharing the past, where there once decided
Hope was the hour just before dawn,
When life moved in stardust glistening,
Glorifying the One who knows when to wake the sun,
As the beauty of a heart is worn, born…
In tears, like dew clinging to the petals of an herb,
Risking every weather, every storm,
So that, with hope, the song is soon born,
A song of faith, promising His truest grace,
Rising like the Son, who never comes undone,
The One who abides in the heart He’s won,
The One who the spirit praises, with a heart who is sure,
Whatever is to come, whatever is revealed,
In the silence of the dawn,
There lives a soul felt harmony,
The joy that comes from believing in One
Who is light, love, life…
One who knows the spirit’s truth,
Even in the past, even in youth, there is a measure,
Of intense pleasure – that comes to those who see,
Yes, that was then – this is now,
But nothing is greater than knowing the peace,
That comes to those who simply believe,
Just believe and you will see…
Beyond the past, into the love that will last,
The One who heals hearts, restores souls,
Abides in the spirit who truly knows…
What it really means when love makes you see.
hell in heaven
man made world
still remain polluted
when the hunger
of control remains
the ultimate goal
they need to see us
all the time
so we pay not for
our own purpose
but for the system
which only but bleed a
hell in heaven
hell in heaven
man made civilization
bleeds confusion in
the hearts of the commoners
those who never live in
man made world in peace
those which hands are free
but chained by the system
those whose eyes are open
yet blind in manipulation
those who got voice
but voiceless
so in an era
of brutality
man made world bleeds
nothing but a
hell in heaven
hell in heaven
the earth is blessed
by nature
the world is healed
by the air
the herb can't grow
in hell
so what other heaven
do we hope for
when we oath to be natural
yet we chose illusion
in a man made world
were they bleed nothing but
hell in heaven
hell in heaven
our planet remains
our greatest gift
from the supreme
our greatest source
our greatest miracle
how come we exist in
this heaven
with it beauties
with it mighty colours
a planet bless with
the sun
a heaven for human
yet in man made world
Inside our planet earth it
still bleeds nothing but a
hell in heaven
Walking along a road, diagonally,
through someone's house briefly
and back out where there isn't a door
across their vegetable patch and
eventually over the bones of some buried
unknowns.
Cows are currently grazing in someone's
hallway, while a tree grows in the kitchen.
As I walk, I trample through a Roman bath
where in a different time a rotund, well fed
Roman is relaxing in his water.
My next foot down stamps the hand
of a warrior who has just fallen to the sword
As he, in his battledress and beard,
lays in someone else's hearth
where a herb-filled stew is being cooked.
I tread effortlessly over walls and pits,
rooms and murder scenes, above oceans
and below oceans.
These layers of time leave layers of life
which layer the ground silently screaming
voices and echoes of stories once told.
There will then be a layer to come
where someone will tread their feet
over my life, my house and my bed.
Beauty And The Feast
by Gabriel Magno
April 25, 2015
sea side adventure, in a distant tropic island,
waves relentless, as the morning sun appears.
mind is sharp, durable as a diamond,
a stranger carrying fur pelts, stumbles as he nears.
sunken eyes and mouth agape, he stares as in a trance,
following is a wife and child, the girl begins to dance.
offering his goods to sell, things I could not ever need,
I give the girl a silver dollar, she smiles as I proceed.
far into the jungle, miles away from my hotel,
to see a certain scene, I’ve learned to know so well.
monkeys leaping tree to tree, as in a Tarzan movie,
the herb I hid in my suitcase, is making me feel groovy.
the beating of a drum, is heard not far away,
I wonder carefully should I go, or should I opt to stay.
no, I will forge ahead, in spite of all my primal fears,
I only hope and pray, not to be slain with poisoned spears.
I reached my destination, I found it just by chance.
running ‘round the fire, the natives formed a dance.
hands pointing to the sky, then down over and over,
my courage now my only guide, as I moved ever closer.
suddenly I felt the fear, a hand upon my shoulder,
as I turned, I now became, a mesmerized beholder.
of something I could not dream to see, in all my sweetest dreams,
there she stood in front of me, beauty bursting at the seams.
leading me by hand, we walked to where I stood, amazed,
as the chief halted all the dancing, pointed me and gazed,
some words were spoken, as the natives cheered out loud,
they held me by each arm, as the beauty left and bowed.
a spear was raised, the lanky native took his aim,
pointing straight at me, my legs were weak and lame.
as the spear began to fly, I closed my eyes and prayed,
but just then I awoke, as the words came from my maid,
“you will be late for work, it’s best if you arise”,
I dreamed it all, and in the end, it was not my demise.
but in my mind remains, a vision I cannot now conceal,
the vision of that beauty, who would have made of me a meal.