If all the seeds that fall were to grow, then no one could follow the path under the trees.
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Editing Same Path
I HAVE walked upon this path
alone
and that was years ago
when i still cry
water the pebbles with tears
they do not grow
flowers
there are no trees there
One day
I come down from the clouds
since i am heavy with
rain in my
heart and decide to
walk back the path
of stones
I have seeds of clouds in my pocket
rainbow shoots in my hands
The path have since then
bloomed with dew
and vapors rise to the skies
in prayers
Trees grow and
bees pollinate
a new world is born
since then
and children come and play
their games
again
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fertile Ground
Some lives fall on fertile ground
and grow and grow and grow.
Some lives fall on stony ground
and fail to grow at all.
We are like the seeds of flowers
we need a base to grow,
to spread our roots
and watch our seedlings grow.
11 April 2009
poem by David Harris
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Follow the Path of Awareness
Follow the path to awareness.
You will notice it is not paved!
It is not aligned with floral scents.
It may have threatening obstacles on it.
But...
Follow the path of awareness.
Let those go who choose to skip,
And frolic along with inducements.
Nothing will change the minds,
Of those who wish to find roses...
They did not grow.
Or suffer through their planting.
No one does this,
For something that they've done...
To be easily picked.
It's just common sense.
And so many live without any of it!
Follow the path of awareness.
And you will see...
How all of the pieces fit together!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Lord's Harvest of Plenty
What a truly awesome thought indeed,
That throughout your day you live among seed.
Not the seeds that one would find in the ground,
These are not seen, but in the heart they are found.
These seeds are planted by the children of God,
As they simply follow the path The Savior has trod.
Your life as a Christian is not merely good deeds,
As your faithful witness could plant one of these seeds.
Or your life may be busy with a seed you don't know,
And your faithful witness is helping that little seed grow.
Planting and watering, as a Christian, is all we afford,
While all of the growth of that seed comes from the Lord.
After a little growth it is no longer a seed,
But a new vibrant Christian prepared for a deed.
The deed that has been prepared, I'm sure that you know,
Is to plant some new seed and to help water and help grow.
Once they have grown, they are cut with God's sickle of love,
And taken by The Lord to their Father's Home up above.
Whether the numbers are few or they are many,
You can be part of The Lord's Harvest of Plenty.
(Copyright © 08/2002)
This We Have To Know
we sow seeds
but we never come back
for the future fruits,
that is not the reason
for our sowing
we sow the seeds
as we travel along
the paths of our pains
we may have sown
the confusion and those
that follow us always wonder
where we are heeding
we are heeding to a place
we have never been to
so how can we ever know
oh, we too follow
the beatings of our heart
as we fall part by part
as we keep on the start
always carrying that dart
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Silence Shall Be
i find this in the forest of trees
long trees, shady, such that what you can see
are only shadows of leaves
and what you hear is only the sound of the wind
choked between tight walls,
this is my silence,
moist, and soft, between a growth of wild
ferns
rotten leaves heaps and heaps of
rotten leaves
layer after layer of rotten leaves
thick and pushed still to the roots
smashed to the ground
some seeds from the oaks
or maybe from the flowers of the orchids
or some sweet fruits and red berries fall
in there
and they begin to grow
rich as humus is this soil down
the darkness of this forest,
this is my silence
deep inside me
moist, rotten, but soon
lots shall grow
seeds turning into sprouts
to trees again
perhaps taller than ever
some fruits so sweet and colored and shiny
some flowers scented and so lovely,
this my silence
shall be, i am keeping it for years
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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84
my silence shall be
i find this in the forest of trees
long trees, shady, such that what you can see
are only shadows of leaves
and what you hear is only the sound of the wind
choked between tight walls,
this is my silence,
moist, and soft, between a growth of wild
ferns
rotten leaves heaps and heaps of
rotten leaves
layer after layer of rotten leaves
thick and pushed still to the roots
smashed to the ground
some seeds from the oaks
or maybe from the flowers of the orchids
or some sweet fruits and red berries fall
in there
and they begin to grow
rich as humus is this soil down
the darkness of this forest,
this is my silence
deep inside me
moist, rotten, but soon
lots shall grow
seeds turning into sprouts
to trees again
perhaps taller than ever
some fruits so sweet and colored and shiny
some flowers scented and so lovely,
this my silence
shall be, i am keeping it for years
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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You Must Dropp The Seed
i am the field, plowed fertile field
near the river
some dogs are buried within me
some snakes live here
i know their wishes and desire
somehow i wait for you as the rain
and you as the sower
of the seeds
pour some sweat of your brow
and let your arms swing
let the seeds
fall
that is all i want
that is all that i am waiting for
just dropp the seed
and i will let them grow
then you can leave
i will take care of the snakes
and i will always remember all the dogs sleeping here
now you must leave
the seeds shall grow spontaneously as i watch the seasons change
t
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Mother
My mother
is a stunner
She as beautiful
as a rainbow
I want to follow her
where ever she goes
I want to be like her
when I grow
plant seeds like her
reap and sow
make sure my offsprings follow
my path whether it is narrow
I love her so much
She makes me smile with a golden glow
My mother is my best friend
when I am feeling low
We say hello
a thousand times
when I am feeling low
She always knows
How to be straight with me
and say no
I say it once
I say it twice
My mother is a stunner
Now I have got to go
Copyright 2005 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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SONNET: Wild Trees
Look how the trees grow in the wilderness!
The Rain and Sun tend to their growing needs;
No man can put the tree’s growth in harness;
‘Tis clothed by verdure leaves, flow’rs, fruits with seeds.
Look how the Wind spreads wide the seeds in soil!
How fast they sprout into seedlings with Rain;
Some go awaste but most grow without toil;
Alas! Man thinks wild trees are just a bane.
Yet, every tree that God had made has use;
And every living creature God made fine;
‘Tis left to man, his faculties to use;
‘Tis left to him to keep his shoes in shine.
Some things we see, we may not understand;
God’s creation is something very grand.
poem by John Celes
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Reaping What You Sow
There's an open secret, one you must have known
In this world we live in we must reap what we've sown
And our deeds like little seeds which'll surely grow
To show the world like movie the seed that we sow
Many plant mangoes expecting apples to grow
Forgetting the law which says 'You reap what you sow'
A tale I'll tell you of a wise old fool
Who did all in his power to bend this little rule
He sowed so many evil seeds while alive
And saw them grow into evil trees before his last count of five
So learn from this story, be you friend or foe
In this world we live in we'll reap what we sow
poem by Olamilekan Adewoyin
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Aunt Mattie's Quilt
Aunt Mattie bent a thousand times down the long black rows
Then battled with the angry weeds so little seeds could grow
Come summer Mattie pulled the snow from cruel and cutting bolls
She was patient pale and slender and was only eight years old
Round 'n round the spinning wheel beneath Aunt Mattie's boot
She recalled the soil and cotton seeds and summer's hopeful shoots
Two winters spun out summer's threads in rich and creamy folds
And she had a bolt of cotton cloth when she turned ten years old
If we bend and plant the seeds and tame the wicked weeds
If we let the sun and rain assist and simplify our needs
If we follow in the barefoot path of one persistent girl
We'll throw a healing quilt across an ever ailing world
Indigo and lavender made up Aunt Mattie's sky
Remembering her childhood days she made the rustic dye
The hour before the day would end it fed young Mattie's dream
She made indigo and lavender when she turned just fourteen
If we bend and plant the seeds and tame the wicked weeds
If we let the sun and rain assist and simplify our needs
If we follow in the barefoot path of one persistent girl
We'll throw a healing quilt across an ever ailing world
Aunt Mattie bends a thousand times down each patchwork row
Piece by piece and stitch by stitch in fading candle glow
The valley of the shadow cannot call her from her seams
Until finishing her lifetime's work she dies at seventeen
If we bend and plant the seeds and tame the wicked weeds
If we let the sun and rain assist and simplify our needs
If we follow in the barefoot path of one persistent girl
We'll throw a healing quilt across an ever ailing world
song performed by by Dixie Chicks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Growth And Trees
Growth
Trees are conceived just as humans are
from seeds the striplings rise
Yet rooted to one place
They grow
No choice where their future lies
Subject to nature’s way’s and whim’s
bearing the brunt of chance
No option, no choice
No vote, no voice
they perform in the wind, their arboreal dance
And they grow
Like young children they blossom with grace and wonder
With litheness, with vibrance
Innocence thereunder
filled with awe and wonder
They grow, oh how they grow!
Tall and stronger, each day brings them closer
To the sky and the clouds
To the smell of ambrosia
like their wee kinfolk, in fields of timothy and clover
Children and trees know nothing of guile
Lies, treachery, deceit
The common, the elite
And yet all the while
They grow
With the approach of Fall winds, the trees sway and quiver
Immodestly dropping more leaves with each shiver and
a blanket of yellow, a patchwork of gold
Shielding the earth from winter’s coming cold
Settles silently,
Yet relentlessly
Shyly, yet bold
Through the winds of winter
Through the ice and the snow
They exist, they persist
They resist, they insist
That they grow
They grow
They awaken like children to springs fresh breath
Limbs green, supple and new
Buds swelling, birds dwelling, life is refreshed
Mother natures, spring time brew
Invigorating
Intoxicating and
Exhilarating too
Children and trees rush toward summer with glee and
Are dressed in new raiment to suit
The trees clad in green, the child’s green knees
New seeds in the ground taking root
Squirrels scratch the bark
The sparrow, the lark
They grow
The young, in nests, creation reborn
New life, new presence on earth
From womb, from eggs, new life is formed
The world as always gives birth
As it was
As it is
As it always will be
They will never cease
To grow.
poem by David Whalen
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A Coloured Print by Shokei
It winds along the face of a cliff
This path which I long to explore,
And over it dashes a waterfall,
And the air is full of the roar
And the thunderous voice of waters which sweep
In a silver torrent over some steep.
It clears the path with a mighty bound
And tumbles below and away,
And the trees and the bushes which grow in the rocks
Are wet with its jewelled spray;
The air is misty and heavy with sound,
And small, wet wildflowers star the ground.
Oh! The dampness is very good to smell,
And the path is soft to tread,
And beyond the fall it winds up and on,
While little streamlets thread
Their own meandering way down the hill
Each singing its own little song, until
I forget that 't is only a pictured path,
And I hear the water and wind,
And look through the mist, and strain my eyes
To see what there is behind;
For it must lead to a happy land,
This little path by a waterfall spanned.
poem by Amy Lowell
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Most importantly, the meaning of spirituality lays the seeds for our destiny and the path we must follow.
quote by Dennis Banks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My beautiful flowering trees
My beautiful flowering trees
One day I shall buy some land
Plant countless seeds
And watch them grow
Into beautiful flowering trees
A cool breeze
Will bring me
Sweet fragrances
From a thousand flowering trees
I shall listen
To the songs
From birds perched
In the tall flowering trees
I shall play
With my children and theirs
In the vast expanse of green
Amongst beautiful flowering trees
One day I shall rest
Passing into oblivion
My ashes scattered
Amidst the beautiful flowering trees
by Ash (Rishi's Dad)
poem by Rishi Menon
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Wayward Sheep
They’re on a path and know not why, attracted by their heart and eye,
A path we would choose to forsake, is one which they chose to take.
Falling prey to the darkened one, who stands opposed to God’s Son,
Seducing believers like you and me, to follow the path of their enemy.
Through the power of his devices, Satan subtly allures and he entices,
Young believers to look and stray, from God’s light to his darker way,
As he seeks to deceive and destroy, a child’s life and the parent’s joy,
Who raised them in Truth and Light, only to fall into the darkened night.
The battle at hand, when implored, through prayer belongs to our Lord,
Though dark the battle seems to be, He’s the One to assure us victory,
The unchanging Lord, full of Grace, will choose the time and the place,
To draw that wayward heart to Him, and lead them from the path of sin.
When concerned parents do their part, to follow God with all their heart,
The final outcome we can be assured, rests with Jesus Christ, our Lord,
Who works in ways we don’t know, to help all His sheep learn and grow.
As the Shepherd leads lost sheep back, in ways that we as parents lack.
We may never know just how or why, our children can fall for Satan’s lie,
But the Truth of God shall overcome, for all Believers, not just for some,
And the Lord, Who changes not at all, will restore children when they fall,
So children He allowed us to raise, will walk with Him, all to God’s praise.
(Copyright ©12/2008)
Sonnet: Let Goodness Always Prevail
The mammoth trees are cut for timber's sake;
Large trees along the roads are felled as well;
The smaller ones in wild now grow and swell;
Then clouds to pour the rain, how can God make!
When virtues aren't nurtured in life sometime,
Then vices grow with vengeance in man's heart;
When bells of praise and hymns to God don't chime,
Blessings and grace from heaven can't depart.
When man's good deeds are stopped for reasons much,
His sins grow from a mole to mountain size;
How can the Maker's favours ever touch,
As sins abound and soul afills with vice?
For God to bless, our righteousness must grow,
And seeds of virtues, good deeds, one must sow!
poem by John Celes
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Love Seeds
Fly with the wind
Fly with the rain
My love seeds
But grow in the deep sea
Deep in the heart
Shine with the sun
Feed by the earth
My love seeds
When the night's fall
It covered me
and frozen
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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My Little World
1 2 3 4.
1 2 3 4.
Little boy up in (? )...
Thats left behind to sin.
Moving like a camera I can watch you on my screen.
Fall into a shadow world inside of me.
Hidden like a treasure.
Secrets in my scene.
You can follow me.
Oh, you can follow me.
You can follow me.
Ah, you can follow me.
Scream inside.
Whisper.
Picture in a dream.
You can talk to me and we can talk forever.
I could take you to the doorway and I can give you the way, the key.
No one here can see you, no one here but me.
Fall into our shadow, theres another world in me.
And youre invited.
And youre invited.
In the little world I make with all the little things I take...
A million ways to pass the time, in this little world of mine.
You can follow me.
Oh, you can follow me.
You can follow me.
Oh, you can follow you can follow you can follow follow follow follow follow.
You can follow me.
Oh, you can follow me.
Secrets in this world.
Picture in a dream.
No one here can see you, no one here but me.
And you can follow me.
Oh, you can follow me.
You can follow me.
Oh, you can follow me.
You can follow me.
Oh, you can follow me.
You can follow me.
Oh, you can follow.
In the little world I make with all the little things I take...
A million ways to pass the time, in this little world of mine.
You can follow me, follow me.
You can follow me.
Oh, you can follow.
You can follow me. follow me.
You can follow me. follow me.
You can follow me.
You can follow me.
You can follow me.
You can follow me.
You can follow me.
You can follow me.
Where are we going?
You can follow me.
But where are we going?
You can follow me.
Where do you wanna go?
You can follow me.
Ok.
song performed by by Blondie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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