Amid colorful roses, and lovely dahlias, within a garden,
I found my space in a corner, a wildflower bred by no one,
Though my mistress wished to uproot me as a weed, I was firmly grounded.
My roots so tangled didn’t come off easy, and I refused to budge an inch.
So, I was allowed to be there amid the other plants.
When she watered her garden, I absorbed some aqua molecules like a sponge.
When she manured her plants, I drew nourishment like a famished child.
When butterflies befriended lovely flowers, I stayed silent,
with a secret craving for an amorous moment.
When the season came, I burst into bloom, outshining all other flowers.
Yes, I am an Anemone resembling close to Poppy or Dogwood.
On my delicate stem, I am cradled by the lullaby of the wind.
Now I stay so confident, smile so easily, and laugh without care.
I can grow where I like, you cannot tame me, I am a wildflower…!
Categories:
manured, flower, garden,
Form: Personification
Generous praises offered by friends might mislead sometimes.
Confusing the core of friendship is beyond their thought list.
It's when, like a broken gong, the church bell faultily chimes.
Even the age-old concept of Angelus gets a twist.
The lake's surface remains dull until a pebble troubles
And evokes ripples that awaken awareness within.
My lethargic potential in snug zones found no ruffles.
Till your suns and showers of censures manured me to win
As gems between coal, within your curses, blessings, I find
Each stone you throw at me is my stepping stone to success.
In your pessimism, my possibilities are enshrined.
With the hurdle poles you plant, I row my boat and progress.
Within the axis of existence, each foe is a friend.
As the benefaction he or she bestows has no end
Categories:
manured, appreciation,
Form: Sonnet
This journey we all make
Through this winding path
Scorched by the sun's anger.
It scalds our bare feet
Already torn by thorns.
The rains make it slippery,
We fall and bruise our knees.
Like wool drifting in the wind,
We are tossed about
Until we reach the great sea
Where the dying flames of our torch
Are finally extinguished.
While the lonely buds
Manured by our eternal silence
Become the memorials
Of this solemn journey.
Categories:
manured, death, life,
Form: Free verse
Heart is a home garden
Between two walls guarded
This is to be watered
This is to be manured
This is to be touched
Garden to grow and flourish
This is to go neglect
This is to go reckless
What to fruit and what to flourish?
What purpose this is to establish?
Categories:
manured, garden, heart,
Form: Free verse
Nature being a teacher from the inception,
It's a role model for human sometimes,
People copied many things
from the script of nature,
Though copying is a wrongful act within a classroom,
Nature giving room,
For an instance,
I planted a tree,
Watered the plant,
Manured enough,
Fenced it and protected like my child,
I witnessed a raphid growth longing tree towards the sky,
Matured,
Blossomed,
Dropped down ripe fruits
saving my head,
As per the rule of give and take,
In day to day business,I do offer money,
The vendor offers me goods in return,
Nature is so,
When it's give and take!
Categories:
manured, environment, feelings,
Form: Light Verse
loving hands' touch
seed grows to beautiful plants
love's manured enough
as new born babies
sprouting buds' in the stems' lap
slowly get colors
flowers' in blossom
nurturing becomes fruitful
eyes see their sweet smile
Categories:
manured, flower, love, tree,
Form: Haiku
Hurt is the dent scratched skin produces
If peeled not prevents a new peep.
Its depth depends on the object used
And the flag waved ere the body feel.
Beneath every thorn lie its sincere roots
Held firmly by the earth in the heart’s hood
Nurtured by the disappointments manured in
It pricks at the exact moment of maturity.
Since humans are elements of impulse,
We react to the prick rather the plea:
The muted whisper of I am not happy.
We try to pick the pieces of pride up.
Once we learn to peak under the hurt
We would find its timid true cause
And the greatest truth in all is read:
Beyond the hurt is a voice crying help.
Categories:
manured, anger,
Form: Quatrain
Liberal tory predjucide
457 visas 2 help the jobless score,
a hundred thousand jobless,
upon our Aussie shore,
one hundred thousand imported,
by howard the duck billed rat,
{still here}
fat ole bat got 30 thousand more,
are you aware of that?
so special working in the mines,
the greed of ancient whores,
class distinction aint it grand,
no work for the Aussie poor?
So keep em working part time,
no holidays evermore,
no hope 4 a house or car,
ground down to serfdoms' floor.
Rabbit abbot opened the flood gates
with china, and they will bring their workers with them to work
at chinese wages in what was our country..
.like the Aboriginals we have been bypassed ?
And manured on from liberal heights...
Categories:
manured, adventure,
Form: Ballade
There was a jasmine in my neighbours garden
It grew across the fence
Perfect in beauty, white in inocense
Full of night balming fragrance
For my pain.
I could not resist the promise
Of happiness
I stole that jasmine sweet and mild
Then memory came back
And I knew it was
The flower I lost since a child
I grew it again where it was not
But where it was supposed to be
Then I blamed the soil for the rot
But my jasmine returned corrupted to me
What knife did my neighbour cut it with?
What virus infected these stems?
A clean knife or not
A jasmine should not be wounded so
The flowers become early withered
The petals lose their glow
The perfume but faintly exudes at night
And my pain remains uncured
A stench rises beside the blight
But the bed was not manured.
This jasmine is not the same
Although it has a similar name
I need to see the innocent flowering white
To smell the perfume that balms the night
I search still for joy
I need to love again.
Categories:
manured, romance, night, night,
Form: Free verse