Short Planters Poems

That the sky forms cloud,
So the Planters cheer!
But that sky forms cloud, 
Traders despair!...

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A Farmer
Cultivates
Plants flowers



9/16/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2020...

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the seed carriers

nature's tree planters at work

the birds and the breeze...

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Planting seeds of poetry
       loaded with rhymes
      or without rhymes ...
      We cultivate poems ...
      we are poet planters ...!...

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Listen to poem:

Planets Aligned  

Planted on a planet 
of alien aims
The planters plan as parents 
Aliens of alien names 

And so goes 
The planters woes 
	The Earth shows
In biopic frames

The day that is done
Leaving no one
	To recon 
all that remains...

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People planters find it hard to tear 
at the loss of your near and  dear

At two hundred percent profits
Devastation gives them fat pockets

Diggers open up the ground
Where people sprouts can be found....

Sprouts or people dust....it is hard to know!?...

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Fragrance in garden.
Memories of fresh plowed earth.
Ghost of ancient planters plant.
Seeds that bloom in spring.
Burst forth in magnificence.
No eyes to behold grandeur.
Gone from this garden.
Where once fellowship had been.
Made to leave because of sin....

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Blessed 
Are the Seed Planters 
And the Harvesters 
When they are in Him 
And sent by the FATHER Elohim 
Planted also those who plant those the seeds 
We are also Seeds from the Father 
AMEN

3/18/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr ©2023...

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Where the zone reigns,
It often rains:
Soaked clouds permitted reins
That light up smiles of grains
On highlands and plains,
Overfilling drains:
Here no friendship feigns,
Skilled Planters for gains,
The unskilled its pains…

A worry for trains
And call for Brains
Over the water-covered rails
Or Engineering fails!...

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We are crisp green vines looping and curling
Beautifying the dark red brick buildings
Of universities, decorating churches

Gardners revel in our natural sharpness
Adorning planters, baskets and planters
Bringing verdant green plant to life

We are the ivy brigade
Prancing our purity and freshness
In spring and summer...

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Today's the day
They laid me low
And cradle me in soil
So, in this darkness
I might sleep
Indifferent to their toils
They think, 
I'm in a better place
I'm sure this place is fine
All I have to do is wait
Until I'm told it's time
Then I'll reach up
through the soil
A day that just seems awesome
And make my planters
Stop and stare 
At my leaves, my stem, my blossom...

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Creepy planters from Delaware town
Their heads all ugly, weird smile or frown.
I cannot believe how annoying they look.
As strange as anything in any horror book.

Oh, they are yours I say to the artist with a smile.
Pretending they are not hideously strange and vile.
The artist is not fooled; she is my great-Aunt Candy Keen.
I make them for people I despise she said, people who are mean....

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Blossomed solitary, a flower unseen
Colors missed; hues ignored
Fragrances ne'er sniffed
Scattered into emptiness

By planters 'n florists 
Makers unmaking their creatures 
Leaving them derelict
Forlorn in a floral paradise

Alone inside a packed bouquet
Kindred flowers, strangers by design
Precious little to share 
Save for empty stares

© Alwi Shatry, All Rights Reserved.  February 24, 2020...

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“can you make me a  five layer wedding cake?
and then put a bride and  groom figure at the top”

“sure can, you’re in  for a big surprise”

the cake was made and delivered
the baker got a call day after the reception

the cake was terrible, was loaded with peanuts
and the groom was a planters peanut figure
how do you explain that?

baker-“anyone who orders a cake from me  has to be a nut cake”!!!...

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Planters who have to toil
To have some food boil
And the Digestive oil
Start with 500 AM Soil,
The Morning’s Freshness their strength;
The surest way to take it to a length.

Farmers should early toil
In a cultivable soil
But not forget snakes that goals spoil
And The Carefully Planned foil
By simply sliding in to coil.

Snake could deal with a planter,
In his farm at a canter,
His blood stream promptly poison 
Without so much as this noising....

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Once on Cecil Place
fledgling flagstones freckled
like summer faces
in Septembers of taut cypress.
Now neglected planters are urns
for my young ashes,
crypts gaping silent screams.
Blistered doors do not divulge 
past secrets,
gravure images are gravel 
on a eroding drives.
Fissured streets
are cracked mirrors
reflecting shards of selves.
Time is a slumlord 
its seconds a legion
of termites.
I'm a pillar of salt;
I should not have looked. 

6/1/17...

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