If you let the weeds grow for a year you will need seven to clear them.
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Garden of Soul
My soul’s garden must grow those plants
And trees and shrubs that yield good fruits;
Sin grows like weeds that stifle growth
Of virtues and more vices grow.
The grace of Almighty God comes
Down on soul’s garden as sun, rain,
As virtues grow in more numbers,
And sin-weeds turn a scarce member.
poem by John Celes
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Weeds
In the backyard
Of my heart
I put some seed of love
But weeds grew too fast
Though I used herbicide
But they know how to survive
I threw out the rose, now I love
The weeds for their survival instinct
And power to grow everywhere
Without following any row
My mind follows the heart
And grows too fast like weeds
To pervade to hover
The minds and souls
Of people all over.
poem by Abdul Wahab
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Forgotten
Dame's Rockets grow atop her grave:
Pinks, whites and purples flourish here
in this cemetery enclave
where no one has visit in years.
Her oblique, weatherworn headstone
stands aside a nearby roadside
hidden amid weeds, unbeknown
to motorist who pass where she lies.
An effortful deciphering
failed to clarify her birth year
Born April first [obscured] in spring
Died forgotten this much is clear
except for these fragrant bouquets
that perfume above her grave today.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Where Corn Don't Grow
(Roger Murrah/Mark Alan Springer)
As we sat on the front porch
Of that old grey house where I was born and raised
Starin' at the dusty fields
Where my daddy worked hard every day
I think it kinda hurt him when I said Daddy
There's a lot that I don't know
But don't you ever dream about a life
Where corn don't grow
He just sat there silent
Staring at his favorite coffee cup
I saw a storm of mixed emotion in his eyes
When he looked up
He said Son I know at your age
Seems like this ol' world is turning slow
And you think you'll find the answer to it all
Where corn don't grow
Hard times are real
There's dusty fields
No matter where you go
You may change your mind
'Cause the weeds are high
Where corn don't grow
I remember feeling guilty
When Daddy turned and walked back in the house
I was only seventeen back then
But I thought that I knew more than I know now
I can't say he didn't warn me
This city life's a hard row to hoe
Ain't it funny how a dream can turn around
Where corn don't grow
Hard times are real
There's dusty fields
No matter where you go
And you may change your mind
'Cause the weeds are high
Where corn don't grow
You may change your mind
Oh the weeds are high
Where corn don't grow
song performed by by Travis Tritt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Year
One year, two hearts have learned to grow
across divides of time and tide,
one year, two hearts have learned to sow
seeds free from weeds, no need to hide.
One year saw challenges well met
with optimistic insight shared,
one year two never will forget,
from oblivion forever spared.
One year, joy norm became to show,
true tenderness which will abide,
one year, where rich affection's flow
formed base for future starry eyed.
One year upon time's wings has let
beginnings blossom into light,
one year where fears, frustrations, fret
dissolved ‘spite distance dynamite.
One year embraced shared dreams below
skies blue, horizons warm and wide,
year's ride beyond blocks, rocks, start slow
accelerated side by side.
One year: each second's silhouette
shines through linked lines inked allegro,
one year discarding pain, regret,
as equals, neither high nor low.
One year, from quest to twinned jest's glow,
from bud to bloom, gloom thrust aside,
one year where two have grown to know
vim, vain objection's override.
One year may many more beget,
revealing gifts love may bestow
in countless ways, as hearts' duet
ignores walls, calls to Maude and Co.
(16 April 2009)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Sorrow Seeks...
Sorrow Seeks...
Sorrow seeks...
Like the roots of weeds
And as the roots grow deeper
the weight descends
Like gnarled hands grasping at your throat
Choking out the beauty within
A dandelion with a face that glows of golden sun
But within the soil it's roots grow so deep
With one pluck you think it is gone for good
Only to return stronger than before
Sorrow seeks...
Like the roots of weeds
4 April 2008
It's Just Another New Year's Eve
Don't look so sad,
It's not so bad you know.
It's just another night,
That's all it is.
It's not the first,
It's not the worst you know,
We've come through all the rest,
We'll get through this.
We've made mistakes,
But we've made good friends too.
Remember all the nights we spent with them?
And all our plans,
Who says they can't come true?
Tonight's another chance to start again.
It's just another New Year's Eve,
Another night like all the rest.
It's just another New Year's Eve,
Let's make it the best.
It's just another New Year's Eve,
It's just another Auld Lang Syne,
But when we're through this New Year
You'll see, will be
Just fine.
We're not alone, we've got the world you know.
And it won't let us down, just wait and see.
And we'll grow old, but think how wise we'll grow.
There's more you know, it's only New Year's Eve.
It's just another New Year's Eve,
Another night like all the rest.
It's just another New Year's Eve,
Let's make it the best.
It's just another New Year's Eve,
It's just another Auld Lang Syne,
But when we're through this New Year, you'll see, will be
Just fine.
song performed by by Barry Manilow, music by Barry Manilow, lyrics by Marty Panzer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Calendar of Sonnets: February
Still lie the sheltering snows, undimmed and white;
And reigns the winter's pregnant silence still;
No sign of spring, save that the catkins fill,
And willow stems grow daily red and bright.
These are days when ancients held a rite
Of expiation for the old year's ill,
And prayer to purify the new year's will:
Fit days, ere yet the spring rains blur the sight,
Ere yet the bounding blood grows hot with haste,
And dreaming thoughts grow heavy with a greed
The ardent summer's joy to have and taste;
Fit days, to give to last year's losses heed,
To recon clear the new life's sterner need;
Fit days, for Feast of Expiation placed!
poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
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Clear Waters
I looked in the river from the bridge I was on,
The river powerful, the bridge small but strong,
The water was clear but the sight was sad,
Because what I saw was worse than bad.
A metal beam about 5 feet long,
Some old bottles and a bicycle partly gone,
A blue plastic bag, a tire but no wheel,
Disgusted inside, a person would feel
What a shame, a disgrace, this trash people throw,
Around it, plants and weeds fight to grow,
I find it confusing that the waters are so clear
Despite the mess on the river’s side, here.
poem by Brian Duffy
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The Garden
CHOKED with ill weeds my garden lay a-dying,
Hard was the ground, no bud had heart to blow,
Yet shone your smile there, with your soft breath sighing:
'Have patience, for some day the flowers will grow.'
Some weeds you killed, you made a plot and tilled it;
'My plot,' you said, 'rich harvest yet shall give,'
With sun-warmed seeds of hope your dear hands filled it,
With rain-soft tears of pity bade them live.
So, weak among the weeds that had withstood you,
One little pure white flower grew by-and-by;
You could not pluck my flower--alas! how should you?
You sowed the seed, but let the blossom die.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Sonnet- God's The Weed-puller
Despite my sweat and toil with pen and hoe;
My rose-filled garden grows recurrent weeds;
God plans to give me roses all the more;
A small reward for my good thoughts and deeds.
This time, God picks the weeds in His own style;
Each one by Hand with intact roots and stem;
And burns them all thoroughly in a pile;
And plans to give to me the diadem.
The ways of God are strange but never fail;
With woeful hearts, He pines for righteous souls;
I need not fight hereafter by e-mail;
God is plugging the Rodent, Snake, Fox holes.
No more, my garden can grow lethal weeds;
God will provide His honest people's needs.
poem by John Celes
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I Lose the Battle
I stand forlorn on the edge of the farm,
Where grow the young plants of deeds,
I see growing, springing the sown corn,
Amid the sticky poisonous trailing weeds.
Yellow sick, pale and frail is the crop,
But the weeds too healthy, too green,
They grow as the demonial desires do,
How should I weed, make the farm clean?
Though they are poisonous yet sweet,
More delicious than the daintier food,
That is why we deceive and we cheat,
And brood them, brood them brood.
To weed them I resolve again and again,
They ripen soon unguarded, unattended,
Without the sunshine and without the rain,
And at last I lose the battle unammended.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Manicured Reality
I agree,
A rose does smells sweet.
But they are not planted
On urban streets to bloom.
They would not be given that opportunity.
Although weeds are encouraged
To grow between the cracks,
Where broken glass settles.
And tourists are re-routed...
To view a revitalized naturalness!
Beautified without the aid of sunglasses,
Or weeds to spoil the experience.
A manicured reality,
Entices those deluded by the goodness
Of life and all it offers!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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When I heard that trees grow a new 'ring' for each year they live, I thought, we humans are kind of like that we grow a new layer of skin each year, and after many years we are thick and unwieldy from all of our skin layers.
Jack Handey in Deep Thoughts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Faithful Witness
To the firstborn of Yahseph,
Of all that is created;
To the secondborn of Yahseph,
Do set set your mind on Mount Zion;
For His name is His glory and,
Of the economic well-being.
Of the year of the rat,
Of the year of the dog,
Of the year of the cow,
Of the year of the bull,
Of the year of the sheep,
Of the year of the dragon,
Of the year of the snake,
Of the year of the pig,
Of the year of the goat,
Of the year of the lizard,
Of the year of the crocodile,
Of the year of the elephant,
Of the year of the scorpion,
Of the year of the turtle,
Of the year of the fish,
Of the year of the earth,
Of the year of the wind,
Of the year of the fire,
Of the year of the water,
And of the year of the bush!
Like the firstborns of slaves.
The hips of romance,
The faithful witness will not lie;
The same day,
The same night,
Of the love shared at where no oxen are;
And the crib was very clean.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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On the Eve of the New Year,2012
Whatev’r the old year had to say, it said!
Whatev’r the past year had to bring, it brought!
Whatev’r the past, let memories good stay;
Let strife that came, embolden hearts and minds!
The old year had its good and bad well-mixed;
Let’s hope the New Year brings more joy and smiles;
Let dreams unfulfilled become realities;
Let world brazen itself for newer feats!
Yet, sense of values must prevail in life;
A moralistic society must grow;
The youth today must make better adults;
World nations must have ties of love and peace!
Let carnal needs not supercede the soul’s!
Let human lives remain priceless, sacred;
Let leaders not waste wealth for vain glory;
Let God remain foremost in endeavours!
Let downtrodden receive more attention;
Let terrorism weeds be pulled by roots;
Let physically challenged get more aid;
Let love exchanges greet the human race!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 31-12-2011
poem by John Celes
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Love Song Of The Year
(words & music by christian)
I used to laugh when I should cry
I used to let these feelings pass me by
But now that I believe them
I got no-one to leave them to me
You see I traded love for what I thought must be free
So I confess my loneliness
And I guess Ive lost the best of the year
That I have lost it through my fingers like a golden breath of air
If I cared I wouldnt be singing this love song of the year
I know the time cannot erase the days
Love is past and Ive gone away
From now on Ill make it very clear
Cos I dont want to write
Another love song of the year
Its a lonely song and not too clear
But to me its very dear
I guess this song can only be
My feelings went out in the sea of love
To me this has got to be the love song of the year
I know the time cannot erase the days
Love is past and Ive gone away
From now on Ill make it very clear
Cos I dont want to write
Another love song of the year
I used to laugh I used to cry
I used to laugh, these feelings passed me by
From now on Ill make it very clear cos I dont want to write
Another love song of the year
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Marvin's Beer
queer cheer
dear ear sneer
steer fear
veer tear
we're mere
jeer here freer
air dire pier
all clear
adhere
appear austere
come near
desire draw dear
each year
first gear
great year
frontier
pap smear
life peer
light year
revere sincere
fallow deer
far and near
bashir chusmir
mouse deer
orear one year
appear
it's all clear.
budgeteer
bombardier
a case of beer
exovir cavalier
another case
of marvin's beer
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Have A Friend
I have a friend who reads and reads
And lets his yard grow into weeds.
I said, that's too high to let it grow!
He said, Quoth the raven, "Never mow."
poem by Elizabeth Worthington
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