TO THE VINING CHILDREN…VIBING…
(Apropos Of A Scriptural Inspiration)
Let us be as the Vines
Of The Gardener;
Let us who have been pruned
With love and awareness,
Have branches sharing fruits
Of Truth, Peace, and Love:-
Indeed, may our branches
Never ever be void
Of His divine wisdom’s guidance;
For we are poets of the tree of life:
Rooted, trunked, branched, leaved,
And fruited with the liberated word:-
As chosen vines of His love,
Let us continue vibing,
Fruiting awareness, inspiration,
Guidance, peace, and love,
Through the seeds germinating
In the creative fertile soil
Of our gardening poetic mind;
And its onederful oneness,
In its onement of labors of love;
In our blessed poetic gardening
Of divine liberating inspiration.
Categories:
trunked, allegory, analogy, encouraging, endurance,
Form: Free verse
Trees are gifts from God
Rooted, trunked, and barked with love—
We are as God’s trees:-
In labors of love,
Let’s palisade life with love—
Our branches shading:-
Let our lovely leaves
Be as those carpeting love—
Nourishing its grace:-
Let’s fruit pregnant seeds;
Germinating peace and love:
Blooming liberty:-
Categories:
trunked, allegory, analogy, beauty, extended
Form: Haiku
By: rontwigger
Never make believe that you do not see
That monstrous elephant in the room.
So you would be cleared in your doom,
Spread the sick beans of someone you'd never be.
Fuel not the system of, for and by the few
For you know it triggers so much pangs,
Pangs that are the offshoots of their angst
Would never ever be in your court I knew.
Keep calm in your fight against the enormous one
To be the epic victor of the world's history.
By not embracing the attitude of mercury,
You've subdued your foolish fears 'til the end's done.
Now, it's high time to take the elephant out.
In Hades where Lethean waters abound.
And have him drink until oblivion is found
While garbing his ivory tusk and trunked snout.
Categories:
trunked, symbolism,
Form: Rhyme
Biobab ever sits unable to stand but a tree.A broad trunked,huge like rocks,from silk-cotton family fruiting for paper,cloth and rope suiting.
Bab is gate in Arabic and the tree is an African origin.A gateway between Asia and Middle East kept opened for centuries.Ancient,heavy,immemorial gift from Arab traders for shadowing the Sun hitting Mannar soil in then Ceylon.A mark of gesture of Arabs on their merchandised soil but no a trade mark as traders hail.
Hats off dear Arabs for your kind hearts.Biobab a tropical being sits smart for half of Adam’s age in the coastal belt of Northern province of Sri Lanka!
Categories:
trunked, blessing, business, caregiving, character,
Form: Blank verse
I reposted this poem because I just ca't get those young boys out of my mind.
What have we lost? What would the world have become had they lived? Why have we not learned anything? Please read with a gentle heart for all those whose spirits are still fighting and dying even now.
they can’t find home
trees trunked as pillars
a cathedral gallery
edges my road
through french farmland
waking in mists of spring
brown arched buttresses push green
into the face of god
a somber holiness escapes,
the sound echoed
among foliage floating above
I sit to rest
and there silently arise
between rough bark
men, grey as leaf mold
approach to offer
their deaths carried gingerly
in cupped hands
taste this, our tales of mortar shelled
star burst murder
on nights yellow with gas
lungs choking closed
blown into eternity
by mined field’s crop of demise or
whining whistle of rifle spew entering
warm sacred bodies oozing life their beauty,
sweet youth gone to earth
beneath grasses where they should be
lover’s heat now
all, wander still
those blood soaked fields of mud,
noise and death
laid down
to pave a path
for old men counting green
and dreaming glory.
Categories:
trunked, loss, war,
Form: Free verse
Close on the leatherneck well booted, high healed stormy, clip clop,
sans well fashioned faux shod Harvey didst stomp with heavy drop
ping like a furious ogre, and before classes even started
this early September 2017 nature maid maelstrom bid adieu
akin to movements indicative of fiendish flip flop
“he” (as if one could identify gender of said huffing puffing Hurricane,
gave the coast an unforgettable pan hand dilly sock hop
wrought desolation visa vis master card –
carrying uprooted trees like footballs, where whoosh of fury didst lop
many complex edifices plus stately trunked vaunted trees
felled like overworked mop
add where tongue shaped swath comprising Texas got cow licked –
or rather a major pop as if punched from boxing competitor
(already down for the doll finned count)
Hurricane Harvey continued to pounce without letup, and refused to stop
spilling profuse water until the steep pulled tippy top
of many tall buildings barely visible accompanying soundtrack mix
included the Furies of Agamemnon concomitant with ruthless
banshees, daemons, fable come to life monsters
performing corrupt version of do wop.
Categories:
trunked, grief, hero, natural disasters,
Form: Free verse
an’t find home
trees trunked as pillars
a cathedral gallery
edges my road
through french farmland
waking in mists of spring
brown arched buttresses push green
into the face of god
a somber holiness escapes,
the sound echoed
among foliage floating above
I sit to rest
and there silently arise
between rough bark
men, grey as leaf mold
approach to offer
their deaths carried gingerly
in cupped hands
taste this, our tales of mortar shelled
star burst murder
on nights yellow with gas
lungs choking closed
blown into eternity
by mined field’s crop of demise or
whining whistle of rifle spew entering
warm sacred bodies oozing life their beauty,
sweet youth gone to earth
beneath grasses where they should be
lover’s heat now
all, wander still
those blood soaked fields mud,
noise and death
laid down
to pave a path
for old men dreaming glory.
Categories:
trunked, soldier,
Form: Free verse
Oh how I love a tree;
any tree, anywhere:
longtime triple-trunked
royal trees;
redwoods giant, gallant
rising, heavenly;
trees, tall and slender,
so tall you can’t catch them;
short trees eye to eye with me
and so we talk squirrel talk.
I have a tree inside about 18” high;
he lives on my corian counter;
when he hears the wind,
and takes a look outside
he sees his cousins swaying
cries a tear and softly sighs.
©Kathryn M. Collins
November 25, 2007
Categories:
trunked, tree,
Form: Carpe Diem
Will we feel our love when we are dead?
The moon and rocks off to the sky
What are these if not had been lead?
Will our joy and tears perspire forever?
But soon the clock nods to a sigh
Are our children our only endeavor?
The ale is drunk, our fears trunked
As we stalk to noon, But why?
Alas debunk, our fears confront
Soft comes a lullaby
Categories:
trunked, life
Form: I do not know?