Long Transplanted Poems
Long Transplanted Poems. Below are the most popular long Transplanted by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Transplanted poems by poem length and keyword.
HAIKU BLOOMS #3
People parade
One after another;
Workday charades
~~~~~~~~~
This tembusu tree
Transplanted here;
Wears heavy memories
~~~~~~~~~
Wise up
Tell all;
Spill the beans
~~~~~~~~~
If only
You knew;
Icy hurts grow
~~~~~~~~~
Ink stains
Haiku strokes;
Push and pull
~~~~~~~~~
Wise words
Contradict fact;
Insight intervenes
~~~~~~~~~
Feel then deep urge
Gut feel strong;
Instinct disrupts
~~~~~~~~~
Sense a flair
In the thin air;
Seize affair
~~~~~~~~~
Fond caress
Sweet embrace;
Merge deep space
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
07 February 2016
Singapore
Beyond The Open Door
She stretches her arms across your abyss,
so that she can covertly open your door.
She cries as she peeks into your eyes,
for you hold onto a grief that does not belong.
She promises to baptize you with positivity.
Sadly she cannot promise you wholeness.
Eternal bliss waits until the end of a journey.
Your place is here, within this current heartbeat.
Do not fear, you will find deliverance.
Tick tock, tick tock, time whispers,
as you grasp for sanity.
Roots and branches are different
and still they are the same.
Above and below the grass,
they stretch beyond the boundaries of shame.
They know there is fresh spring water
and a blue sky to claim.
Root rot happens if you choose blame.
You will burn through obstacles,
for you are one who possesses an ancient flame.
“Ooh ooh the rain comes,
my eternal heartbeat drums,
ooh ooh my heartbeat drums!”
So she caresses your leaves
with fingers and thumbs.
She’s thankful to witness
one of the blessed ones.
She listens to church bells
singing in the night.
Under your branches
she bathes in the moonlight.
There above you is a star dotted sky.
Together you absorb that pure bright white
Thump thump,
thump thump.
You whisper her name.
You are both different
and still somehow the same.
You live on the thin line side of insane.
She feels no shame,
no need for blame.
Ooh ooh the rain comes,
your eternal heartbeat drums.
ooh ooh your heartbeat drums.
She desires to caress you
with her fingers and thumbs.
Your branches stretch across that abyss.
With your leaves, her lips you kiss.
Thankfully she opened you to more.
Not a slave to fear anymore.
Together uprooted to an ancient shore.
Yes transplanted at the edge of paradise,
just a few steps beyond that open door!
By: Richard Lamoureux
Along Iran's alluvial fan,
spanned a virgin, untested
train
A scourging blight the tender,
fecund suckers did restrain
A heartier tulip bloomed on
Tunisia's arid plain
A docile wave the royal
Jasmine blight to stain
Transplanted in Egypt; a more
fertile strain
Leaching the arid soil, the
tyrannical oasis did drain
A hybrid sprouted on Libya's
fallow terrain
Fertilized by a torrential,
nitrous rain
To Oman's tepid steppes,
uncultivated varieties shrouded
fenced row and lane
Disparate pods releasing
incendiary seeds seeking an
aggregate gain
In Syria's suburban parks a
mutant variety skirted eminent
domain
With underground cisterns to
water it's hostile mane
In desolate Sudan, a floral
chalice did simulated hope
contain
Anon, pilfering hands it's
potting soil did obtain
Feeling kinda cruddy, yup, that's the word
Too many fries, too many burgs
When will I learn I can't handle that stuff
Stomach rebels, starts causing a fuss
Once could eat nails and all kinds of gunk
Now I eat mush and ground junk
My teeth are all gone, can't chew anymore
Things go down whole, my tummy gets sore
So such is the life of this senior type dude
Head for the washroom, each time I eat food
Food disappears like famous greased lightning
Or I sit there for hours, really quite frightening
Irregularity's my name, I'm “IRREG” for short
Hope an operation, I don't have to resort
An artificial esophagus transplanted in me
So I can go regular like it once used to be
Oh for the days when I could eat all that junk
Those days are gone, who woulda thunk
That one day I'd be eating my morning cereal
Laced with Metamucil or some such material!
Throughout eons she contrives
to casting seeds and see what thrives
as she has done for countless lives.
Experimental.
Traveling through time and space
on cresting waves of light and grace
to be here in this time and place
of great potential.
By the trauma of rebirth,
and crashing on this spinning earth
to walk a path of woe and mirth.
Experiential.
To the beat of her own drum;
to laugh, and love, and overcome;
to act in ways both wise and dumb,
and unprovincial.
Tending to transplanted souls,
traversing over burning coals,
to wet her feet on earthly shoals.
Developmental.
Until her own angelic claque
blasts their trumpets ‘til they crack,
to guide her home; to call her back,
as transcendental.
Terra Firma
David J Walker
I
How big a place must Eden be
Its borders unknown
Its politics not on display
Its laws kept by passing clouds
Each from the lips of whispered scripture
The peacock's song can be heard
Under the canopy of a transplanted forest
Of oak and birch where the
Cock will remain as long as the
Hen is secured
The world need not be a bigger place
than this
II
What lies beyond the secured borders
Is a matter of speculation
The anticipation of more will drive
The curious mind mad with the
Scent of an unknown difference
Until it is named
III
Only madmen claim dominion
Over air and ground and sea that
Transcends life
The comings and goings of ideals
That means nothing to the mountains
As humans evaluate the usefulness
Of claims and how to prosper
IV
You may know me by location
I am from (Insert the name here)
As if there is a distinction on this
Small blue planet whirling
like a Dervish on
The unknown path through eternity
If this is a sojourn then we will
Meet and rest with others
who will know us
As terra firma
When it seems like hate and evil are raining down…hard from the sky above…it’s a good time to remind ourselves many of those raindrops are also filled with love.
So when I’m caught in a shower…when from the heavens raindrops pour…
the raindrops filled with love are the ones I’m looking for
I look for love between any people…any color, shape, gender or size…
It can usually be found in the smiles they share…or the joy in each other’s eyes
I look at how people treat one another with kindness…I look for how love expands
the moment two people become one by the mere act of holding hands.
I look for people laughing…dancing…
I look for a…a whisper…a stolen kiss…
I look for old friends coming together and see the love as they reminisce.
I look for strangers helping strangers…
I look at how a box of candy, a card, or a bouquet of flowers can impress…
I look for silent exchanges of tenderness…a gentle touch…a sweet caress.
I look for a man putting his head on his wife’s tummy and suddenly becoming aware…
he’s about to become a father…there’s a life growing in there.
I look at one mother listening to another woman’s chest and crying tears of joy once she becomes aware…she listening to the sound of her sons’t heart…her son’s heart…transplanted there.
I look for couples enjoying a sunset…eating a romantic dinner for two…
I listen for all the times in a day I hear the words…I Love You.
Each raindrop of love…no matter how big or small…has its own wonder…its own reason to celebrate…because each raindrop filled with love has the power to silence each raindrop filled with hate.
And how do we know how much hate or how much love each raindrop might contain?
I imagine that all depends…
on how we view the rain.
hanging in the air
humidity’s heaviness . . .
the river’s slow crawl
On the Mississippi lies the beautiful little city where I once lived. How many times I trudged up inclined streets; or leaning forward, red-faced and panting, pressed up slopes with all my might, feet on pedals of my purple Sting-ray bike, urging myself not to dismount prior to reaching glorious level ground! The damp beneath my clothing in those days was a given. Simply stopped to rest. . . sipping pop underneath a tree, I would often feel rivulets of sweat that trickled down beneath my underarms, a surfeit which caused circle stains to appear beneath the arms of short-sleeved shirts or on Sundays, beneath the flowered dresses that I wore to church. However, despite the heat’s discomfort, it was summer, after all!
counting down the days
until the school bell’s last ring -
a fling with summer
Released from stifling classrooms for vacation, I eagerly embraced the sun. . .and how I played! Kickball with the neighbors, visits to the city pool with my sisters and friends, bike rides to parks or into town, where I spent my allowance on records and treats, and hours racing eagerly through the pages of Nancy Drew books in front of a cooling fan - all these things consumed me.
It was in the month of August, and more than a decade of muggy summers later that I found myself transplanted in a desert. As if thrust into a giant pre-set oven with a noose about my neck, I learned firsthand the meaning of “slow roast.” Here, in the new and different place where I've now lived most of my adult life, the heat can leave one with a burn like acid watered down, a deep sensation lingering in skin long after sun has left the sky. Perspiration may just evaporate before it has a chance to wend its way along the body’s contours. Discomfort notwithstanding, there’s no pain. Acclimated to these summers now, I find that it is easier for me to breathe in August heat than it was the first time I’d ever encountered it. Released from stifling work, I go outside into the oven, pen in suntanned hand!
sunshine reflections
so many summers have passed
writing till twilight
The tiny seed wasn’t certain it wanted to sprout
It had been through such trauma above the soil
winds buffeting it this way and that
striking sign posts and trees
bouncing off them before being whisked away
once again with no idea when or where it would end
everything out of its control
Finally the gusts died down and it had landed
where it now found itself
trampling feet and the activity of animals
pushing it down into the ground
buried where it was safe and warm
but it knew it had a job to do
so it sent the first small tendril creeping
out of its shell and took a look around
only to discover it had come to rest
at the base of a big oak tree which
shaded the sun
its roots spread in an extensive network all around
selfishly soaking up all the water when it rained
I came across the brown and suffering little shoot
identifying with its plight
as I had experienced much the same metaphorically
since the morning I had emerged
from my mother’s womb
Retrieving a trowel I carefully transplanted it
to a sunnier spot where it might have a chance
to survive and thrive
disgusting little red creature
beating on the floor
with its ugly feet
like tubes — rosy and violet-colored
sucking the air like an ameoba
wanting for flavors long extinct
disgusting red little creature
pumps its little legs
spilling itself on every
creature it lands on
like a bee stinging frozen leather
wanting for victories long extinct
ugly little red creature
transplanted itself
only to be attacked by the system
you poor, stupid thing
loitering in foreign territory
waiting for hope long extinct
little red disgusting creature
wants what it wants
and gets what it gets
stomped, and broken
until it’s just
a disgusting creature