Roots Poems - Poems about Roots

Pensile clouds of a new Truth loom. With them are selected versions of Extinct grief. Looking through the yellowness of a Dog’s eyes, this aura of Truth, pervasive, Sours my palate. What say the bulletins and tabloids In their speech potency? Have they recoiled on the sudden encroachment Of stale seas Or have they rolled out drums for Haley’s ROOTS? Between Kamby Bolongo of watery essence And...

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they slither down the long halls coiling thoughts like vine-sharp calls calm defies walls lean in with breathing cracks truth waits, but never walks back you flicker—don’t ask why their whispers rise like flood and tide but roots hold beneath the lie you break—and light slips quietly by...

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Roots That Breathe Within My Heartbeat At every step, their shadow guides me, My father, steady as an oak in the breeze, my mother, tenderness in all that feeds. Their hands wove the thread of my fate, with patience, love, and a steady gait. Though time may rush and the world may spin, my heart always flows back to...

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It can be coily it can be straight It can be parted many ways It can be texturized or revitalized Our hair is reversible Cultural, unique, a symbol of power You can braid it up, twist it up, loc it up But you cant mess it up! ...

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look at the world as an inverted tree the myriad forms here branches and leaves in heaven are the roots which we don’t see wondrous is the magic God Himself weaves to find out who we are, we must reboot detached from outcomes, mode embrace-release that thus doing nothing, we reach the root transformed as love and light when desires cease in...

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Letters from Borrowed Ground 'Part One' --- To: Myself (Three Years Ago) Date: Every Night Status: Never Finished Focus: Warning Dear Dreamer, Tonight, I dig up buried footsteps, each stone beneath my feet heavy with goodbye. The coffee grows cold in my cup as I write this at 3 AM, watching snow fall on a street whose name I still can't pronounce. You...

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There are two vital gifts we can give our children… two important things…. The first would be to give them roots… the second would be wings. The roots we give them grow out of love and acceptance… and knowing, when needed, you will always be nearby… Their wings they get when we help them believe in themselves and give them confidence to...

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Roots Without Soil I. I keep my mother's spoon in my suitcase— silver worn thin from stirring cardamom tea, its handle curved like her thumb pressing into my palm those last mornings. Now I stir instant coffee with plastic, the bitter dust settling like ash from stations where no train returns. II. The grocery clerk asks for my name twice. I spell it slowly, letter by...

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The palace of love we built ~ when our blood still flowed very warm in our veins, is now a crumbled castle — its walls with peeled paints and decayed wood; a jaded clock and faded photographs ...

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f i r m handshake of S u m m e r leaves and branches frivolous……..carefree the caress of the breeze impressive t a l l sturdy oaks tee hees in the heat, swing twisting flowers ci r c l e a r o u n d playfully near the roots, still dependent on parents comes the first...

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We forget we are like trees, our roots run deep, and far they reach Unseen they mostly are, hidden out of side, so deep Some forget them, and their histories and from where they came Their mothers, mothers, mothers name And their fathers, fathers, fathers name. These roots our foundation, have many names Without them,...

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We forget we are like trees, our roots run deep, and far they reach Unseen they mostly are, hidden out of side, so deep Some forget them, and their histories and from where they came Their mothers, mothers, mothers name And their fathers, fathers, fathers name. These roots our foundation, have many names Without them,...

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I remember a blessing we were given as first-time parents… that became our parental battle cry: Together may you give your children roots to grow and wings to fly. But having been parents and grandparents for a while now we’ve come to realize two things… about those gifts we give our children…about their roots and wings. Our thinking has evolved as...

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We were once a tide, rushing in pulling back with the rhythm of trust Now, the ocean feels quieter its whispers lost between us I used to need your voice like air in a drowning chest but now silence feels less like absence and more like a friend I’d forgotten Living apart has drawn maps on us lines of independence territories of solitude I see you...

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O, my country, devoured by the shadows of beasts weaving through the roots of time, On your white roads, leading to villages where sadness finds a home under roofs of silence, With the beggar's sack hanging from the weary shoulders of clouds, carrying rains of memories, Today, God wanders through you again, like a silent pilgrim seeking faith...

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