Mustards Poems | Examples


Premium MemberTurnip Greens

There is plenty of sunshine beaming down,
And plenty of water too; enough to astound
There has been an abundance of rain,
Moisturizing major crops of grain

And our vegetable garden out back
Appear to be thriving and has no lack
Leafy and lively vegetable are now in bloom
Cucumbers and tomatoes will be bearing soon

We also planted greens: mustards and turnips
For reasons unknown, the mustards didn't survive.
But it was about a week ago that I could be seen
in our lovely little garden picking turnip greens

Those greens were the first that I have ever grown
They were grown for eating, not just to be shown 
Those greens were tasty, first pick of the harvest
We anticipate only the best from all the rest.
Categories: mustards, garden,
Form: Rhyme

Premium MemberWord Strokes

Nestled woodland, leaves on line,
   thick, straight, and curving.
Mounded upland, forms eternal,
   Rounded, angled, and yielding.

Circled valley, meadows, fields,
   shapes, and pathways winding.
Seasons quartered, warm and cool,
   rust and mustards flying.

Upward outward, textured daybreak,
   quiet breezes low:
Close encounter, canvas earth,
   to view, to feel, to grow.
Categories: mustards, beauty, creation, earth, inspirational,
Form: Rhyme


Premium MemberOctober Haiku

quintessence of fall
her mustards and tangerines
multicolored leaves

her trees turning black
pumpkins smile at harvest moon
crow glides in on wind

october sunset
her broken yellow corn stalks
thanksgiving coming
Categories: mustards, october,
Form: Haiku

Premium MemberOnions In My Dreams

Onions in my meatloaf, in chili, and in sloppy Joe's they make us smile
In scalloped corn, and of course mashed potato gravy once in a while
Onions are chopped, ready to be slopped into everything here
For my husband and I adore them, hold their taste the most dear.

Others can have their ketchups, mustards, mayonnaise, and such.
Onions are flowing around in soup and whatever else we dream up
We have a pile of onions in the laundry room, behind the wall of clothes'
If they were found to be nuclear, we would pretty much be okay to glow.

Onions on the counter, onions on the stairs, onions in my dreams.
We love them in all capacities, even fried, and boiled with our beans.
I know it sounds excessive, but I learned about them from my mother
They are supposed to have healing properties, according to her brother

We are never sick, so maybe onions have saved us some hospital time
We raise them in the garden, and they come out tender and so fine.
Onions in our meatloaf, in chili, and other wonderful homemade dishes.
Please let us enjoy our onions, they increase the taste of fishes.
Categories: mustards, food,
Form: Rhyme

Indian Summer

Just yesterday, 
        there was only a subtle hint
	of autumn color.
Today, the single tree fades
	into yellows, oranges and reds
	no longer a solitary hued figure.
A cluster of distant trees 
        flow south to north
	in a mix of fading paled rainbows.
Dark greens once ebony emeralds
	slip into yellowing mustards
	regular, bold and spicy.
Reds burgundy wined flow to rosier blends
	of umber brittle and browning
	free floating on the air stream.
Today, summer is finally done
	bowing low in the cool winds 
	of autumn’s entrance.
Tomorrow lay in quiet hold
	sullen, somber and stiff cold
	waiting on the melancholic white of winter,
For the moment though,
	fall harvests the pumpkins and yellow maize
	a bounty for the cribs and sculptors.
Winter bids time, waiting turn
	listening for the call
	imparting Indian Summer goodbyes.
Categories: mustards, autumn, change, winter,
Form: Free verse


Polarization of Mustard

Ten ton mustards often evaporate causing much interesting sensations that even a cactus fraction could be expelled. Oh repugnant thoughts of stale galactic breads. Why ponder in a wind tunnel? 8 interlocking beetle chambers. Much followed a goblet. Whilst the hat of harmony is worn by willows and silver didactic energetic gorillas in many many trees. In one sentence describe a box of feathers. In one word epitomise a leaf. In a bud calling to many fabled ranked arcs. Many times sing. Sing to the shapes of the insence sticks . Twice times a chicken equals creamy egg. Whilst juice boiling could be quite harmonic. Seat flamed then. Oh good. Play not a pick of puck. And peck not a bacon tree. Dancing delivering design. Xxxx polarization xxxx
Categories: mustards, allusion, blessing,
Form: I do not know?

On Visiting My Fields

Walking on this green grassy path
In the far spread fields of flowery mustards
Provides a priceless relief to my oh! Tired soul;
Better than the meditating monks feel 
In solitude, in the stupas on the Himalayan hilltops;
Where light winds blow continual, 
And duck-birds dive in and dance.
And it at first saddens a bit, later making me smile,
When I find it, at places, often,
How my old innocent farmer neighbor
Has secretly budged the stony boundary marks.
Categories: mustards, nature, satire,
Form: Free verse

Wind of Recourse

Blow
Blow now, blow
Wind of recourse 
Blow 
Sweep the thistles off
Their rooted feet
Clear the sharp thorns 
Off the fertile farm.

Blow 
Blow quickly, blow
Wind of recourse
Blow
Let the millet grow in peace
Without the troubling weed
Let the spinach bloom and spread
Without the piercing nails of the thorns

Blow
Blow hurriedly, blow
Wind of recourse 
Blow
Blow across the length
Blow across the breadth
Of this fagging farm
And let the labours not be vain.

Blow
Blow right now, blow
Wind of recourse 
Blow 
Don’t leave the weed to grow
And share food with precious mustards
What become of the yield?
If the weeds in pride are left to live.

Blow
Blow thither, blow
Wind of recourse 
Blow 
And let the crops be free
From those hateful weeds
It’s then the farm shall rejoice
Like one with lasting splendour.
Categories: mustards, freedom,
Form: Verse

Early Summer Scene

The sunrays showered the treetops
pooling little puddles of light
on the predominance of shade
that claimed the beaten path below;
seemingly ebbing and flowing
caused by the rustle of the trees.
Tiny cabbage white butterflies
in their spiral flights dip and rise
ostentatiously frolicking
amidst the warm illuminates
occasionally alighting
the myriad garlic mustards
that dominate the ground layer
laying their next generation.
Categories: mustards, nature, seasons,
Form: Verse

Destiny....Push.......

I'M PREGNANT WITH DESTINY.THIS WASN'T A NORMAL PREGNANCY.
IT STARTED LIKE A MUSTARD SEED; IT GREW INSIDE ME LIKE A
BABY...THE FEELING I FELT WASN'T IN WEBSTERS DICTIONARY...
WORDS THAT MORTAL MAN CAN NOT DESCRIBE IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE.
ONLY IN HEAVENLY TONGUES..

MUSTARDS SEEDS REQUIRE A SPECIAL KIND OF DIET.NATURAL FOOD WAS FOR THE FLESH.THE SOUL REQUIRE THE BOOK OF GENESIS;AND BY THE 
NINTH MONTH IT WAS FEEDING ON SOME REVELATIONS... THIS WAS JULIANT.BRINGING ME TO THAT MARVELOUS LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL.

MY MUSTARD SEED IS IN THE BIRTH CANAL.FATHER GOD PREPARED ME FOR THIS SEASON.NOW, MY TIME HAS ARRIVED TO PUSH MY MUSTARD SEED THROUGH...

PUSH OUT YOUR SINS AND REPENT.

PUSH OUT YOUR STRONGHOLDS YOU KNOW..

PUSH OUT YOUR DELIVERENCE 

PUSH OUT THE WATER FOM THE TEARS YOU CRIED
AND THE PETITION PRAYERS YOU SENT UP TO THE SKY.

PUSH OUT YOUR GIFTINGS....

NOW HERE COMES THE ANNOINTED 

DESTINY.....IS HER NAME...........
Categories: mustards, dedication, devotion, education, faith,
Form: Free verse

Innocence

Again, I come back to those thoughts
the one appearing as
those beautiful pots;
Among which you’re
just smiling as a “flower”;
Your innocence, your nature
Your beauty, your words..
like “yellow mustards”
that spread all around 
leading me and my thoughts
to go beyond the bound;
I don’t know who I am
But, I know one thing
You’re my sense, you’re my sensation
You’re my passion, you’re my temptation
You are the one and will be the one
“whom” I won’t forget as
you’ll always be in my “little heart”
and as long as the time wait for me 
you’ll remain “my creation”
Categories: mustards, love, me,
Form: I do not know?
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