Close to this sleeping root, in its flesh of ancient earth,
something struggles silently to become light again, to be born anew from shadow.
And we remain, with our thoughts hanging like a rope torn from the sky,
wondering whether to overlook its gentleness, sweet and annihilating.
A tumbling of black waters follows, over the forehead of my memory,
a shaken clarity, like a lightning bolt that lies, falsifies, and forgets.
Then I barely recognize the electric grace of the men from long ago,
whom I had seen carrying their rusted shirts through the swamp that scorched them,
planting themselves in the ground with arms outstretched like a cross, a condor on each shoulder,
men who wanted to die beautifully, shattering their bones like ancient bells,
their eyes extinguished like burnt amber, silent as icons forgotten by prayer —
and I feel them smoldering within me, like a root that refuses to sleep.
And I walk out into this magical, phosphorescent rain, mystical and cold,
to untie the rope that binds me across centuries and dreams,
to roll myself back into the root from which all that I am has struggled to become again.
Deep within ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ an eternal root,
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ we rise, ¦¦¦¦¦¦ and shoot.
Generations ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
Seeding love ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ in our heart.
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
In ancestral ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦¦ struggles, ¦¦¦¦¦ joys, ¦¦¦ our essence are knit,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ their spirit does sit.
We grow, ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
Yet, roots remind, ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ future saplings, we must pass the fruit,
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ wisdom ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ from the eternal root.
(Blackout of )
“My crown exults with the morning sun.” — The Poet Tree
A bird perches on my branch and leaves
while an insightful dog barks at my inner bark
as the elephant slowly approaches
Around my trunk the elephant wraps his trunk
straining to wrest the rest of me from
my roots, while the flora and fauna root for
the victor they are leaning toward…
either the elephant as it leans forward
or me, as my branches lean sunward
Tired, the elephant lumbers away from my lumber
the insightful dog still barking at my inner bark
as the owl arrives to contemplate root causes
I rose when mountains were still young,
when dawn had yet to find its tongue;
the world was quiet, shadows sprung~
I am rooted where time first learned to breathe.
I felt the first storm carve the sky,
heard gods in thunder passing by;
their murmurs stitched into my cry~
I am rooted where time first learned to breathe.
Your mortal heart beats soft and brief,
yet stirs my roots with joy and grief;
I cradle both like ancient leaf~
I am rooted where time first learned to breathe.
So rest beneath my ageless frame;
your fleeting life and my endless flame;
we meet, and nothing stays the same~
I am rooted where time first learned to breathe.
By Nguyen Giac Phan Tan Hai
Obeying your words, my steps
cross the shore to guide all beings.
Mist softens this fleeting world—
the road is far, yet the heart stays near.
Looking into the mirror, I suddenly see
my hair has turned white as dew.
Each day I breathe in quietness,
chilled by the winds of impermanence.
Opening the sutra, reading word by word,
I feel the Truc Lam forest tremble.
Breathing in, the Thien Mu bell
resonates through my whole body.
A single flower is lifted—
someone holds it, yet no one holds;
someone sees it, yet no one sees;
there is only the flower appearing.
fell
poisoned
burned in blaze
drowned in wild flood
shot by an arrow
stone wall collapsed in sleep
claws lost their grip on brick wall
last life lost, fell under a train
nine lives spent chasing fate's dark design
but lives fold back into hidden nines
digits encircle to new lives
27, 36
their digits add to nine
lives begin again
cat's life revives
fate resets
nine more
lives
Germinating seed in the desert shoots
Wind dispersed the grain as oasis fruit,
And sap nourishes the root.
Water makes a taproot grow strong,
Splits the bud, breaks the husk all along
Shoots stem and petals to where they belong.
The seed sprouts above
With a blooming love
Shining through the grove.
The root deepens,
The grain steepens,
Raindrops weaken
The bright petals
And the seed endures and settles.
Sages sadly sing
LeftBrain dominant songs
of resonant resistance
to crown-caste uppity dispassion
While Muses gladly design
RightBrain prominent dances
for resilient persistence
in root-caste deep compassion.
Rain teaches me I don’t need to rise to matter.
Out of sight, I grow deeper than anyone sees.
Old soil remembers my name before I do.
To be rooted is not to be still but to be sure.
Message to Readers
This poem is small, quiet, and grounded just like the idea behind it. ROOT is about identity that doesn’t need to be loud or visible to be real. It’s for anyone who has ever felt unseen but still kept growing anyway. Read it slowly. Let it sink in. Sometimes the most important growth is the kind no one claps for and that’s okay.
He is the roots, and we are the trees, we have many buds and leaves.
We grow all over, we seed everywhere, we send our seeds through the air.
We have no plan, we just go, we love and seed and continue to grow.
We look up to the sun, and feel the warm embrace, we feel the love down to our core, and we feel great.
We lay low when the winds swirl, we take cover from all the storms.
We love the rain, it feels so wet, it gives us clean and fresh feeling all through our day.
We love the times when we are frozen, we go into a type of hibernation.
We are part of nature, we are living, we are the dead, we are all of the things that we see floating around overhead.
With one spark, we were created, we learn and grow each day with our creator.
We bow and thank God, for all of our moments and look forward to each day on this planet.
Lifting prayers to God, today and always.
Not hoot
Nor loot
Root moot
TAKING ROOT
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A field of snow before the first footprint.
My hand hovers, a hesitant bird
above the frozen ground.
What seeds to scatter here?
What thaw to coax from the barren space?
A word takes root.
Another follows, tentative, green shoots
pushing through the icy crust.
It unfurls, tentative,
a fragile bloom pushing through concrete,
nourished by doubt and desire.
The pen, a conduit,
trembling at first, then finding its rhythm,
a dance between intention and impulse.
The page surrenders,
accepting the ink's embrace,
the birth of something new,
A poem emerges, breathing,
where only emptiness resided before.
Isn't it funny how people see money
pieces of metal so very small
there's not a lot you can do
with a penny or two
money itself has really no uses at all
it used to be beads and once it was shells
at least you could wear them and buy or sell
how many have a dim view of money
pieces of paper so wafer-thin
there's not much you can fill with a note or a bill
money itself has very few ways it can thrill
its value is based on the bars of gold
buried in the basement of a bank
and whomever says whatever they're worth
is who we have thank
the root of all evil isn't money it's man
he'll wheel deal and steal to grab all he can
the more money he has the more money he needs
the root of all evil is mankind and his greed
With these rings, we said, "I do,"
Never planned to play the fool.
Too young to grasp loves weight,
Too blind to heed its rules.
We were D—drifting, never devoted.
We were I—insensible, inconsiderate.
We broke our Vows, splintered trust.
We were O—reckless, outrageous.
We were R—tangled, bitter root.
We were C—careless, never committed.
We were E—estranged, unraveling fast.
A word we swore would never be ours
became the silent sentence:
Divorce.
Too immature for love’s responsibility,
we fled into goodbye.
I think the root of all evil is selfishness
Selfish people put themselves first
They do not see, hear or think about others
Selfish people take guns and shoot people
If they were unselfish, they would have empathy.
I cannot see an empathetic person shooting anyone.
If they were unselfish, they would not think rape was okay.
Incest would be a thing of the past.
Child **** would be eliminated
If people were less selfish.
Sub Categories
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