Long Vegetated Poems
Long Vegetated Poems. Below are the most popular long Vegetated by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Vegetated poems by poem length and keyword.
Night stirred memories, once forgotten,
of the days I burnt in love
when you consumed my days and I carried you like a queen,
in the palanquin of my thoughts.
Without forethought, to elbow out
the marauding of thorny memories,
I set out, travelling miles, my heart throbbing in my chest,
my nimble legs shaking and trembling
and finally reaching your hermitage.
Casting away my stilted pride, expectant and anxious,
I waited at your doorstep to seize the moment
to renew a commitment and knocked hopefully at your door,
so far never opened before anyone.
While listening intent for the approaching foot steps
and the sound of the key turning on the latch,
did I see a face peering through the window,
and quickly withdraw?
Was it the face I longed to see?
Might not be or else, I would have been admitted in!
Time skipped quickly by, hours flitted
between limping dawns and staggering nights
Initially I knew the tedium of waiting
and the crushing weight of Time on me.
Soon I lost count of it….
Like an alien, how long had I waited there?
Was it weeks, months or years?
The wait must have been pretty long.
I knew roots had grown under my feet
and my body had vegetated into a tree,
but without leaves and fruits!
In Time’s eternal motion, the tree will remain there
as a trunk of fossilized hope, till your love charges life into it!
Night stirred memories, once forgotten of the days
I burnt in love when you consumed my days,
and I carried you like a queen in the palanquin of my thoughts!
without forethought, to elbow out the marauding of memories,
I set out, travelling miles, my heart throbbing in my chest
my legs shaking and trembling, finally reaching your hermitage
casting away my stilted pride, expectant and anxious,
I waited at your doorstep to seize the moment
to renew a commitment and knocked hopefully at your door.
while listening intent for the approaching footsteps
and the sound of the key turning on the latch
did I see a face peering through the window, and quickly withdraw?
was it the face I longed to see?
time skipped quickly by, hours flitted
between limping dawns and staggering nights
how long had I waited there? Was it weeks, months, or years?
I knew roots had grown under my feet
and my body had vegetated into a tree
in Time’s eternal motion, the tree will remain there
as a trunk of fossilized dream till your love charges life into it!
Nov.24. 2022
~ Placed Second~
POEM OF THE DAY
Don’t Quit Your Daydream Poetry Contest
Sponsor -craig cornish
Dec.8.2022
2022, Marathon Mile.22. Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Mark Toney
Ms. Farmer O my Springtime Garden Love Cherie
Oh, darling Cherie,
Your lips are like smelly flowers and cheese on a summer day;
You're like the most strong doctor of love to ever walk Dove Lane;
Your yummy butterfly face;
Your olive oil soul,
Your sweet tasty lips,
A tangent choice of fruits in a bowl;
You’re the garnered doctor of love being...
Jasmines spices rosebuds aromatic;
My garden of vegetated love;
How could I look at another when our unique carrot love is so strong?
I love you Ms. Farmer I love you so;
My darling garden Cherie!
3/27/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2019©
The Children
By: Tom Wright
5/31/03
How oft are the children sacrificed
for an unjust cause or belief.
From hunger, with swollen bellies,
they beg for morsels of relief.
Accounted as hostages to grating words
orated by another in haste.
While clay mores relegate playground
to the status of vegetated waste.
Viewing with fear a chartreuse sky
as munitions are expended.
Leaves scant likelihood of future days
being enhanced or extended.
Groping in darkness, amid tremors,
finds collateral damage from bombs dropped.
From this, the hunger will only abate,
for those lives that will have stopped.
There is no true victor in war,
likewise, let there be no vanquished in peace.
Murmurs of the dust and bricks of the house of your dad called
Dialogues on the mystic ways of the kingdom enthralled
Food for your psychic power, from cosmic secrets you drew
Winds of words of your wisdom, around the environs, blew.
The earth and the heavens were adorned with rainbow attire.
To spell out the soul of salvation, you were on fire.
Awe filled the deep souls of beings in each interaction.
Weren't you the saviour who salvaged humans from destruction?
Joseph knew this. Emmanuel had a mission assigned.
The wisdom you gained from the heavens, on earth, you applied.
Mary treasured your wizardly ways and meditated.
Seeds of a hope-filled dawn, in human hearts, vegetated.
Learning, teaching, labouring... realism, like rivers, flowed.
Each day of existence, with rays of godly graces, glowed.
Start
Life is like a journey by train
It goes on unhindered by heat or rain
It halts at stations on the way
New people enter, others stay
Some reach their destination and alight
Others continue as a matter of right
Sometimes loved ones get separated by fate
Leaving us alone to travel, or wait
Hoping to seek them out again
And resume the journey in the same train
As the train moves, the landscape changes
In the distant can be seen mountain ranges
Barren fields change to a vegetated green
Forests and rivulets add to the scene
It crosses a bridge with a thunderous sound
People view the mighty river below astound
Inside the train new friends are made
Inhibitions on caste, creed, religion fade
All travel as a family together
Like birds of the same feather
This journey has a history
Which always remains a mystery
The last stop is not known
Or, when the adjacent traveler has flown
There are accidents on the way, or delays
And surprises that are joyful in many ways
It’s a sad moment when the journey ends
We depart from our dearest friends
Hoping to meet again at some point of time
In a surreal world doing a pantomime.
End
Come Back 2 God
VBS 2003
A Right Seed Sown,
Not Time,
Changes A Child's Boundaries.
By: Tom Wright
6/26/03
How oft is sacrificed the life of a child,
by unreflective boundaries or a belief.
Ensconced daily with stagnant thoughts,
many, absent of God's word for relief.
They're unwitting hostages of grating words,
and boundaries, voiced by others in haste.
Their lives often relegated to playgrounds,
where fertile minds become as vegetated waste.
Until appears that one with genuine concern,
sharing the word through story and game.
Given alternatives, children can change,
by messaging their hearts of Jesus' name.
The fields are white already to harvest*
and laborers few who tend this fruitful sod.
As basketed fruit, gathered unto life eternal,
are yon who choose to "Come Back 2 God"
John 4 - 35 KJV
Cancer Was the Match,
That Set My Fields on Fire
Written: by Tom Wright
12/2/2014
The path in life that I formerly pursued,
Whether aptly marked or vegetated trail;
Found most days all too frequently skewed,
So I sought God’s face to help me prevail.
For the thing staring at me I had no answer,
Neither peace nor joy was within my heart.
I’d been diagnosed with Parotid Gland Cancer,
And the new direction chosen, had its start.
No longer was life seen on hold, but on restart,
I’d surrendered to Jesus, authority in my life.
God began cultivating in me His work of art,
He began by guiding a Doctor’s surgical knife.
Now I no longer travel some unlighted path,
But the one which God the Father approved.
With time mostly passed I’ll escape his wrath,
Lest from the Book of Life, my name’s, removed;
Upon this rusted hook, I've hung for years;
I can't recall when I last touched the ground.
The rust on me is creeping- oh, my fears-
I'll just be cast away and never found!
You see, right next to me- a newer one
so shinny-bright, with an unblemished blade,
is always used- their fave has now become!
They leave me here alone- feeling betrayed.
But then, one summer day, their Grandpa came!
He graciously pulled me from that old hook-
then patted me with love- to then proclaim,
“I need to borrow you, my friend”- and took
me to the garden, which was overgrown,
to manage it as we did long ago;
since then- neglected, wild, and left alone.
Together, we set memories aglow.
An old, worn shovel, with no purpose, hung;
A senior Grandpa, with old, rigid hands;
A vegetated garden- gone unsung!
Each, with the other- old age understands.