Pearl plant, precious, verdantly vellum.
Breathing quietly amidst humbler greenery.
Poetic eyes it aims to please, not prosaic.
Sage, somewhere between its beady lines.
Brightened, as if catching glimpse of a newborn.
I do not own, but yet I wrap my heart around.
Winsome pearls do not drop; raindrops remain.
Cnidaria and water,
Likely the inseparable twins ;
When parted with their biome ,
Serve as fish without the fine.
Cnidaria breathes with mere water presence,
Water feeds with mere love essence ;
The feeding animal in the ocean bed,
May showcase as if fictionally said .
The practicality co existed has now it's share,
If love is fictional : no despair;
Possession isn't the aim : feeling is,
If this is what love is , it is a pure bliss.
Touch -me-not plant, Oh , touch -me-not plant, Who gives you such sensitive power?, Luckily you are escaped from the plougher, My grandma used you as a herbal, And your value cannot be conveyed in verbal.
Blessed to be part of God's open-theatre
But a weather whiplash created a havoc
My innocent joy evaporated
My lean body quivered by the violent winds
Pitter! Patter! It started pouring down
The winds added fuel to the storm
Sturdy trees prostrated on the ground
Accepting their defeat in the duel
It flooded all over submerging me
Luckily, the flow took a quick diversion
By dawn, the level dropped down to my neck
And I could see the limpid firmament
Noticed a ray like a sharp needle
Came out penetrating the stretched blue denim
Over the moon! I was spellbound by sunlight!
Place: 3 rd
The popping pod plant, rain cause the plant's pop to burst, and scattered black seeds.
I eat demons for breakfast and plant them
Far away- Where no life is detected,
To spare another.
Your life does not call to see demons,
Simply so you can live it.
Some of us do not have that luxury-
Long ago we formed in darkness,
To travel to places that even nightmares
Cannot reach.
And that is why we can see what those
Cannot see.
Labels do not hinder us
I eat demons for breakfast and plant them
Far away – where no life is detected,
To spare the other.
You want to see angels and ghosts?
Careful of what you call into existence child-
For not all seeing is believing,
And not all will spare you either – And
Before you know it, nothing but fear
Will consume you.
I eat demons for breakfast and plant them
Far away – where no life will ever be detected,
To spare
You.
DEADLINE SET FOR EIGHT
IS THE TRUMP STRIKE TIME MANDATE?
WILL HE STRIKE OR WAIT?
My husband laughed
When we bought you,
Little basil.
The year was new—
"Let's help Jack, too.
Cook some sweet stew."
My husband smiled.
Still green, surprise,
A brown thumb fluke.
Through furnace skies,
Broken clouds' cries,
Expanding size.
We chase your pests,
Taste our small crop—
Piquant petals
On countertop
Yielding non-stop.
Seasoned leaves plop.
A brawl broke out at the local plant sale
The normally meek started to flail
Their begonias and orchids around
Geraniums were ripped right out of the ground
Look at them wrong and they'll fight you without fail.
there was a maniacal purple plant in my garden with teeth
She bit me when I walked down the path, every single time
I asked why, and she hit me with a snake underneath
Not a very nice plant, said my cousin, Clementine
To plant is to trust
to cast one bright kernel down
into the unknown—
hope kneeling beside turned soil,
believing plant will unfurl.
Within seed's dry shell
a germ of much potential
lies folded, asleep—
entire trees are stored within,
whole forests in furrowed rows.
Seed must push toward
both the dark and light at once—
downward, upward, drawn
in twin rituals of yearning,
shoots and roots yen protracted.
Rain wakes the kernel
with a baptism immersion
unwinding the scroll-
whispering that time has come
to supplant sowing and grow
Two green palms unfold—
cotyledons greeting light
with trembling delight
two hands cupped up enlightened,
enlivened, become alive.
Calm is strength.
Silence says everything.
Bend, don’t break.
Healed, not hiding.
They didn’t see me coming—
because I never
needed to announce
myself.
Softened, not shrank.
My silence
wasn’t surrender—
it was strategy.
I became too whole
to fit inside
their opinions.
My strength
is a river—
steady, shaping stone.
Not loud,
just unshakable.
I wear peace
like armor.
My crown
is quiet,
but it shines.
I held my fire—
and lit the way.
They built walls;
I planted roots.
They looked down.
I looked within.
I never needed noise
to matter.
I did
what I wanted.
The is nothing more interesting, than nature
From carefully studying all the animals
That call it a home
Mainly being from the tiniest animals, to the largest
From the predators that feed on the meek
As they spill blood all day long,
Just to feed their offspring’s
While filling up their stomachs
From the Herbivores,
That mainly graze on the brown grass
Which is signaling end of the Summer season
And awaiting the beginning of the Winter season
Funny,
How the plant’s leaf color’s, will change
From the attractive green color
To the unattractive brown color
Meaning the leafs would be dry
You squash a leaf using one hand
Then blow Carbon Dioxide directly into your hand
With the hand wide open
It release the squashed leaf
Into the cold and harsh air
Within an instant
The squashed leaf will fly in the direction
The Carbon Dioxide blows towards
With only just that!
We can therefore say,
There is nothing much more interesting
Than nature
citronella patch
planted to kill mosquitos....
covered in welts
«A little plant underneath.»
I thought.
Moistened
And in bloom.
Among the trees and roots.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.