In the fifties, I saved my dimes religiously
twenty let me plant one tree
Deep in a forest’s mystery
~ now a lasting legacy
To help nail drivers using a phone,
To which everyone seems to be prone,
A cop in disguise
Used the trick of surprise
To create quite a ticket-time zone.
To be honest, each ticketed schlub
Joined the “What the heck?” questioning club,
For the officer was,
In his role as the fuzz,
Dressed, alongside the road, as a shrub!
wind gust blew winter away
seed corn hats in little cafe
Lat ons nou gou speel
die dondewee gan kom
en wragtig lek die dak
hemel is baie kwaad
ons hettie die mielies geplant nie
rondloopers loop rond sonne werk
hulle krap nou in da blikke
hulle se Tromp gan mal
wiet daai mense nie alles
is so uitgesit
ag nee, ja ! ons moet nou pwasa
_________________________
[English Translation]
Let us do our work quickly
thunder is on its way
and the roof leaks
heaven is quite angry
we did not plant the corn
the homeless are walking
around without work
they are bin scratching
saying Trump is going mad
don’t those people know
everything is so defined ?
aah no, yes ! we need to fast now
Hands hold tight to the loose ends of hope
As we toil and crack, night and day,
Hoeing up bits of earth and its fragile retributions.
Our crops and little beads of sweat drip to waste
On the ground’s boiling soils.
Eyeh is another name for a deceased generation.
The ones that sprout stubbornly through restive
Delays get re-greened, losing vibes of communal
Watering, ceremonial baptisms.
Birds build their nests in haste,
When bent cusp-blades sprout secretly at twilights,
Behind ethereal curtains of dawn falling
To the consternation of treacly, bitter syrups of time . . .
Is this continuous planting . . . and delirious season?
Has it come to that —when drunken war mongers
Form weapons from slats of pallid bamboo stationed
At the guard posts of violated yams and their flaccid
Tendrils?
I fear.
Such suzerainty over yellowing crops
Transcends the coats of black dust hiding from the disease
Of identity.
It is still planting season, brethren.
The deafening sounds of cannons shake the stalks yonder.
There's a smug dance of weevils on the graves of tubers.
acorns falling
planting residents
dormant leaves shaking
with excitement
roots to grow
rings to wind
bark to shine
at last buds unfurl
Like an ancient Ebenezer
oaks positioned to be victorious
Plant a seed, watch it grow
How it happens, I don’t know
A little rain, a little sun
But I don’t know how it is done.
Slowly reaching for the sky
Still, I cannot tell you why.
Flowers, trees, weeds, and grain
Just don’t ask me to explain
There’s really just one need: plant a seed.
Plant a seed, dream a dream
Live your life, be extreme
Make a move, diversify
Just don’t ask me to tell you why
Reality from pretend,
You never know just where or when
Lawyers, artists, doctors, too
There’s really nothing you can’t do
There’s really just one need: plant a seed.
I didn’t plant that garden tree
But thinking, I just let it be
I knew I should have cut it out
But felt within to let it sprout
And so, as seasons came and went
I pruned this tree, its bole I bent
Around the gable of my shed
But left the limbs above my head
The years passed by and I grew old
I hated heat and shunned the cold
My garden work became a chore
As summer days my patience wore
But resting underneath that tree
Allowed me time to watch and see
The beauty of my garden wrought
And all the neighbored friends it brought
A bunny comes to taste my beets
While shaded so, I rest my feet
A bumble-bee’s contralto thrum;
A promise of much more to come
Badgers, robins, the house finch red
All come with hopes of being fed
And I, too tired to wield my hoe,
Am glad I let that elm tree grow.
A friend said
a little mulch
and planting
is what it takes
to transform a yard.
She bought flowers
in spring
as a gift to herself.
She laid the mulch
and planted the flowers
around a tree.
She cried out
for last night’s storm
and all life
a touch of rain could bring.
She said
after her divorce
every transgression
could be forgiven
with a little sun.
After moving back
to her hometown
it was time to start again.
She said
that her two sons
would bring their wives
and come back
for an Easter brunch
when stories told
around the table
would fine new life.
She knelt in the yard
and spring kissed her
on the cheek.
as a warm breeze blew.
A church bell pealed
such joy found
when young girls
dressed in white
holding lilies
danced along the sidewalk.
A whispered wish, longing soil deep,
Touch the stars; all are called to weep
Trillions of lifetimes, we shall strive,
To grasp the heavens, to truly thrive
But distance vast, and transparent the walls,
Keep us from picking up on unanswered calls
A cosmic dance, swaying fraternally
Wanting touch, past the moon, eternally
Across the Earth, our fingers yearn,
Galaxies, expanse whispered to burn
To feel the warmth, the light, the grace,
A longing dream, of time, not of space
Each infuriating moment, we implore,
To touch that something, even more
But dark does not fade, and silence reigns,
In our roots grasp, demanding hope sustains
Lifetimes spent, our stems and trunks weather beat,
For that unattainable, distant treat
Trillions of years, our worship solar,
To touch heaven's, bright star and toller
pretty Polly practiced planting posies
purple primrose, pink petunias, plants protected by
prideful, placid, preening peacocks.
produce provided by Polly’s plentiful garden
pleases Peterson, plant president of Puffin Produce.
May my words fall like crystal dew
upon the soft soil of your loving heart.
May it sprout the seeds of affection,
growing with this nourishment.
May your passionate flowers blossom,
roses, violets, innumerable variations
upon the fresh green pastures of your heart
May grand sequoias touch the heavens.
May your forests flourish to time indefinite,
withstanding many storms and the test of time.
We will start a campfire
and reminisce about the years of growth.
Deep down, we are both assured
the forests will never stop growing.
Chanté Walker
November 10, 2024
What are we planting in each child today?
Is social media paving the way
Do you let them constantly on the phone stay?
What human interaction is missing and play
I can still remember things my parents would say
Rules for life in quiet speech would pass my way
Like if your friend put their head in the fire, per se
Would you do the same or breakaway
Would you plant kindness in their heart
Would you play a good part
Would you encourage a good character chart
Would you want them to have lives set apart
Still in the formation period
leaves in trembling hues of bronze and gold, fall gently to the earth, where they’ll leave a carpet of crunching truths, blessings in beautiful ~ by poet
walking in silence, on the edge of twilight
subtle sighs, singing, stirring serenity
remembering the joy found on a still night
autumn’s descant, hints at my identity
blazing grace, richest praise in pastoral pulls
perfect hope in breaths of fall’s amenity
planting seeds of grace as we don our soft wools
while harvest reveals what colors hearts gentle
in aching arms, gathering crops in handfuls
blazing leaves, tremble and praise, sentimental
erasing the tears from souls mourning summer
fall’s splendor is hardly temperamental
oaks rest where majesty is the newcomer
falling in shadows who truly become her
I planted fruit trees
Ten years ago; now, fruiting
My kids now reaping.
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