Short Bamboos Poems
Short Bamboos Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Bamboos by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Bamboos by length and keyword.
A golden fish in
blue waters, with many eggs,
collecting the sperms.
Haiku in sun-
light was the essence of
the daydreaming.
The lost road in
bamboos comes out
as solitary song.
Satish Verma
the red bird
wingless broken n
condemned in the last
cruel war of the sexes la-
nds on my shoulder polite-
ly bleeding yellowish serum
dropping golden sun shine
singing bamboos at the
court yard of moon
Form:
The Bamboos grip on the green hill without hesitation,
Their roots penetrate into rocks with determination.
Remaining tenacious after having been battered by storm,
At all directions they can stand winds blowing in any form.
(tran.)
Some things unsaid by
bamboos quiet in a pose of repose;
there are shivers in the
chords of leaves
unseen by glances from
eyes unread.
And still,
they close and bow,
things must have been
said from the depth of
a heart bursting not with words
but of silence understood
and affirmed.
In a dreamscape, the bamboos sigh
Stretching taut up in the canvas sky.
My horizons expanding higher and higher
Yet, as they grow bigger and taller.
They never forget to sway a little and bend
So the irresistible force of the wind
Will bring forth timeless lullabies
Not destruction, nor catastrophic cries.
( )
/ | \
* / * | \
|| ^ * // ^ //^ /* dews on dainty stalks
* ||^* //^ *// / ^ soft strips of morning sunlight~
\ ||°^ //^// * * green fingers strum chimes
\ ||° //^//^// /*
^ ^\ // // // /^
WwWwWwW
Where are they? I asked him at the door.
My voice cracked, was a bit of a whisper.
I had never seen pandas in bamboos before.
Look up, said the farmer, a tiny mister.
There were three of them, and they were sweet.
What do they eat? I asked. What do they eat?
Why do you think they are up in the bamboo? He asked me.
I had no idea, but I sure wanted to see….
Help plant bamboos
It's needful for handicrafts
Human beings would not
Have progress without this grass
Handcraft is cost as old art it's lost
Basket making is a way of life
As weaving is an old way of living
Help propagate the art of handcraft
Help artisans restore the beauty
Of handcraft creativity which handed
Down from our ancient to modern craftsmen.
What a ravishing garden!
Tiny insects, flying birds,
There are reptiles too.
Life's best time going on.
Eucalyptus, teaks, neems,
Bamboos, cactus, roses.
Eyes gets coolness after—
Seeing all the greeneries.
Life is going like snail here,
Slowly slowly and calmly.
Life is going like monkeys,
Run, fun, jump, and eat.
Away from dust and dirt,
I'm enjoying the time of dusk.
No worries, only friends,
Life's best time going on!
breeze with green leaves compose new melodies
wild bamboos play fluent flute ---
ballet dance of flowers
Bluebells painted sky canopy curls furls
lily white clouds form world maps ---
sun feels shy of shining
birds and beasts play around in merriment
bees and flies fresh nectar hunt ---
snakes end hibernation
golden glitters spread around land and seas
smiles of heaven seen on earth ---
dead seeds resuscitate
05 April 2022
The emerald hills and peaks form orderly layout,
The trails of immortals lead on to the top lookout;
Pavilions peep out through the mists and clouds restless,
Pine trees and bamboos there vie gently for greenness.
The crystal dripping water hits on the could ground of the cave deep,
Distant mountains in autumn are under the setting sun’s final sweep.
Lost in the mirage, I really need to know how
To find the way back to mortal world right now.
Our blood they say, but a rotten puss
And to our tears they say, water of Absurity
To our demands, they say, bullets and bamboos
Our heroes are lying in graves, it is Kashmir.
We walk with shadows
We talk with meadows
We are deprived of limbs
We are deciphered, Ah! ignored.
They drank from our throats
They kill without reason
We suffer like an innocent on gallows
Ready to be executed
For none of his faults
But to enjoy the Atrocities.
It burns in me,
your broken thoughts.
Reminder of a wound,
healed, yet, not forgotten.
Ain't it too late?
For I can hear the bamboos,
that'll ferry me across,
the meridian being felled.
"Girl!" I say, "Weed off,
your unhealthy doubts."
Ah! The planned waterfall,
is a free fall of thrills.
There ain't a life jacket,
But 'am set to take the plunge,
Holding onto my ABCs*.
You stick to the blueprint, please.
*ABC = Accelerator, Brake, Clutch (meaning controls/basics)