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Forgotten Fertility Myth
Pranab k c
27/06/2011
a deep depression
carries monsoon again
its raining
five days at a stretch
day and night
she is wet
her chastity
waiting to be ploughed
soil so soft
to be mould in creation
plough hard
my peasant friend
pour dropp to form seed
your personal rain
would make her corny
every dream
of your personal cloud
would make her smile festive
fertile soil seeks seedling
cultivate you the peasant
cultivate hard
cultivate with care
cultivate with unending passion
She waits to bear all the pain
for a pleasure of exposing a life again
poem by Pranab K. Chakraborty
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God of Misery
Misery and disease marry the soil and vegetable,
Many finds result from soil and garden, worms and snails,
That result, that deploy their forces armed in ways known to man.
I shall work again, cultivate the garden as a curtain is folded neatly,
The culture has a crowning achievement.
Grotesque and ugly, watchers of the night sky raise their anger
At the old comets and asteroids hitting the world as danger.
Grinding, depriving and dissolving the diseased soil,
Many old comets design danger, making use of the soil
By hitting too fast, and last of all the planet is hurt.
Misery is actually too powerful a danger,
That meteors are faster every year,
In a fit of rage is the god of asteroids.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Soil Is A Soul Of Life
Soil what is soil Lord?
soil is life seed
soil is a living organism
soil is a loom
from which you were made
dust you were dust you will be
Soil what is soil Scientist?
soil is a critical
part
of an ecosystem
soil provides
important nutrients
for plants in
an ecosystem
soil helps
anchor
plants
to keep
plants
in place
soil absorbs
holds water
for plants
soil absorbs
holds water
for animals
lakes rivers
to use
soil provides
a home
for many species
lots of living
organisms
soil
regenerates life
dust you were dust you will be
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Therefore I feel that the aforementioned guiding principle must be modified to read: If you desire peace, cultivate justice, but at the same time cultivate the fields to produce more bread; otherwise there will be no peace.
quote by Norman Borlaug
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The island Mayo is generally barren, being dry, as I said; and the best of it is but a very indifferent soil.
quote by William Dampier
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Virtue is not a mushroom, that springeth up of itself in one night when we are asleep, or regard it not; but a delicate plant, that groweth slowly and tenderly, needing much pains to cultivate it, much care to guard it, much time to mature it, in our untoward soil, in this world's unkindly weather.
quote by Isaac Barrow
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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To cultivate trees, you need 10 years. To cultivate people, you need 100 years.
Upon The Barren Fig-Tree In God's Vineyard
What, barren here! in this so good a soil?
The sight of this doth make God's heart recoil
From giving thee his blessing; barren tree,
Bear fruit, or else thine end will cursed be!
Art thou not planted by the water-side?
Know'st not thy Lord by fruit is glorified?
The sentence is, Cut down the barren tree:
Bear fruit, or else thine end will cursed be.
Hast thou been digg'd about and dunged too,
Will neither patience nor yet dressing do?
The executioner is come, O tree,
Bear fruit, or else thine end will cursed be!
He that about thy roots takes pains to dig,
Would, if on thee were found but one good fig,
Preserve thee from the axe: but, barren tree,
Bear fruit, or else thy end will cursed be!
The utmost end of patience is at hand,
'Tis much if thou much longer here doth stand.
O cumber-ground, thou art a barren tree.
Bear fruit, or else thine end will cursed be!
Thy standing nor they name will help at all;
When fruitful trees are spared, thou must fall.
The axe is laid unto thy roots, O tree!
Bear fruit, or else thine end will cursed be.
poem by John Bunyan
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Consequently the student who is devoid of talent will derive no more profit from this work than barren soil from a treatise on agriculture.
quote by Quintilian
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Soil Dry Define Vine
soil nutrients
soil soul embodiment
soil fingertips
blood flow wine
hunger allure
siren vine original
soil dry
struggle character
define vine
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Mirage
So boldly though stand there on the precipice;
No shade no wind
Barren they say.
Lack they those looks which beauty see.
Thou conscience I can see
Your garments stripped by atmosphere you see
Mans lust laid your skeleton bare.
Fools look inside the womb;
Its arms hug the mother tight
Which gives you the life
On which you tread, He embraces that.
Proudly he stands there head high.
The ethic more noble than it's height.
Cultivate those looks which beauty see
Insane things may teach you more.
poem by Sanjay Mehta
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Son Of The Soil
Black, strong tatooed by the sun.
He toils and never tires.
He is the son of the soil.
Forget all these fake wana be's! You see today
wanting to be everything they see on tv.
he is the Son of the soil, raised up in the language of the ancetrals.
Taught to hunter and respect the traditions.
Raised up in the secret sacred things of the land.
Spilt his blood in the soil at the riverside at the age of 13.
He knew where his destiny lay at the age of 16.
Had his first encounter at 18.
She was a true daughter of the soil breed well by the women of the land.
Son of the soil taught by the elders the ways of women.
Son of the soil, taught by nature the way to survive.
Son of the soil, taught to endure by the woman he shares his purity with.
Son of the soil,
arise and toil for your destiny calls.
Toil to protect the weak,
to safeguard the rites,
to up root all menace and vallians from the west.
Son of the soil its your time to stand and be heard.
poem by Tigana Chileshe
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A Drop of Rain
Dropping from unforeseen heights
From within the resonating heart of a weeping Nimbus
As the cloud cover lazily distends
To plaster the limitless wall of a heavenly fortress
In its luscious coatings of an Azure complexion
As celestial tear ducts seep a valiant tear
Dropping from apical altitudes to the suspecting soil
Sun parched land veiling the secrets of the earth
As beneath the cracked veneers, a bed of seed await their turn
To pack the soil with die-hard stems of leafy chimneys
To save mankind from the guillotines of a sun-baked terrain
Germinating the hopes of the magicians of the soil, Midas's apostles
Sowing their seed with a wand of thought, firmly clasped in to their palms
As a luscious November awaits for a sprinkle from the heavens
The legacy of the seasonal Monsoon, a promise from the Gods
To cultivate hope even in the direst of landscapes
To burgeon the soil with tides of green, for a timely transformation in to golden grains,
As a single droplet of water from the rupturing skies
Metamorphosed arid despair to steadfast optimism
The promise of a fertile crescent logging with golden grains of Serendipity
poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
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New England has a harsh climate, a barren soil, a rough and stormy coast, and yet we love it, even with a love passing that of dwellers in more favored regions.
quote by Henry Cabot Lodge
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Side Of The River
There's no happiness this side
The river is without a tide
The soil unfertile for seed
Here grows nothing but weed.
Behold the river's other side
Soil is rich so is tide
Spreads out mile after mile
Lands rich and fertile.
I wish I were on that side
This is not the place to reside
There I could get good harvest
There I could build a happy nest.
The man on the river's other side
Finds his river without tide
Finds everything there vile
The land barren unfertile!
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
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The Barren Shore
Full many sing to me and thee
Their riches gather'd by the sea;
But I will sing, for I'm footsore,
The burthen of the barren shore.
The hue of love how lively shown
In this sole found cerulean stone
By twenty leagues of ocean roar.
O, burthen of the barren shore!
And these few crystal fragments bright,
As clear as truth, as strong as right,
I found in footing twenty more.
O, burthen of the barren shore!
And how far did I go for this
Small, precious piece of ambergris?
Of weary leagues I went threescore.
O, burthen of the barren shore!
The sand is poor, the sea is rich,
And I, I am I know not which;
And well it were to know no more
The burthen of the barren shore!
poem by Coventry Patmore
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The Legacy Of The Soil
In my forefather's blood
Rests my gentile peasant legacy, of a dexterous islander
Born to the fertile soils of Serendip
As the seeds of my legacy were cultivated
On soggy terrain for an opportune metamorphosis
Golden terraces laden with logged grains of prosperity
A tribal farmer persona transcending mortality
To the throne of a medieval mythical kingdom
To the august presence of a sorcerer of the soil
A sower granted the wish of king Midas, miraculous palms
Sowing the twines of the intricate tapestry of my heritage
Where no swords were wielded, no blood was shed
Where no battlefields were fronted, no prisoners were seized
Where roots were laid and sprouts were sprung
A legacy like no other, to own the spirit of the soil
To harness the blessings of the sun gods
To garner the vitality of the seasonal monsoon
To cultivate hope in the promise of a bowl of rice
poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
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The Kingdom Of Heaven
Cast your seed
upon my barren soil.
In winter’s dark night
I yearn for new light.
Rain falls;
fleeting life fails
as fearfully I pray:
O fill my fertile soul
and show me your sun-filled face!
Warm me with your
radiant grace
poem by Steven Federle
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Birth and Renewal
The womb that brought her forth gave birth to my attachment to her, a cold night may give birth to a warm day, but brighter and more rarely seen is a woman of virtue relieved of unclean ways.
In my path many flowers I have picked, inhaled of their various scents and have since considered insufficient, worthless is the soil of unfertile ground, but the raised land is beloved by me accentuating the sun's rays as it wanes in its round.
Many were the days when comfort eluded those without crop, but one cannot cultivate when the fertile embrace of love has escaped.
poem by Dijon Noble
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Blank Canvas
I often think the artist
Needs a vast blank canvas
I often feel the poet songs
Arise out of pure emotion
Loneliness, emptiness…
A void to be filled, transgressed.
But, what does it all say…?
On a personal, level
Anyway, about ink or oil…
Are their horizons, just?
Just as barren …as desert soil?
Hell no! Beauty is translucent.
'To a point…
But what could be more real'?
poem by Mark Heathcote
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