The weed that grows by the riverbank will not suffer the effect of draught.
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Lovers' Stroll
Along the riverbank, I happily strolled forth,
Learning for all the world, what a flash of joy is worth.
I walked with one I loved, in the years long gone by,
Absorbing a breeze as sweet as the wind in the western sky.
Along the riverbank, casually I strolled,
As the sky above unfurled a cloudy scroll.
Bending gingerly below the lowest bough,
I went leaning to and fro through vine and flower.
Along the riverbank, I strolled with one dear,
As the western breeze conveyed the crest of joy near.
Each step now pass bud and sweet blossom
Brought back memories wild-eyed and awesome.
Along the riverbank, by rock and bud and tree,
I walked with one very dear to me.
And on we walked following the Creator’s plan,
Giving nature and life our praises hand in hand.
poem by Albert Price
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Butterfly Weed
Oh lady bug, you've done a good deed.
Setting your table on the butterfly weed,
You're the custodian of all you survey,
On butterfly weed, till the end of the day.
Oh beautiful monarch, where do you feed,
I see you too love the butterfly weed.
You and the ladybug would be poor indeed,
If it was'nt for the butterfly weed.
Oh hummingbird whose throat seems to bleed,
What do you here on the butterfly weed?
All hummingbirds, good advice heed,
We love the orange butterfly weed.
God's smallest creatures, go by one creed,
To congregate on the butterfly weed.
Let the south wind blow, and spread your seed,
So that there will be millions of the butterfly weed.
5/31/03 Alton Texas
poem by Juan Olivarez
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Seaweed Shovelling Song
This is my seaweed shovelling song
Ive been shovelling all day long
Ive got got my seaweed shovel in hand
Because Im a seaweed shovelling man
Green weed, red weed, still alive and dead weed
Lying in a pile on the shore
Brown weed, pink weed, smelly kind of stink weed
Who on earth could ask for more!
This is my seaweed shovelling song
Ive been shovelling all day long
Ive got got my seaweed shovel in hand
Because Im a seaweed shovelling man
Dry weed, wet weed, aint-been-troubled-yet weed
Glinting in the morning sun
Thin weed, thick weed, slimy kind of slick weed
Every bucket weighs a ton!
This is my seaweed shovelling song
Ive been shovelling all day long
Ive got got my seaweed shovel in hand
Because Im a seaweed shovelling
Seaweed shovelling
Seaweed shovelling
Seaweed shovelling man!
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bronc-bonk! Crank-conk! A LONE OWL on tree HONKS on the Riverbank!
Alone I am, I am mute; alone I am, a red bird hoots in me - a mess!
Alone I am, in my own abyss; alone I am - whispers aching loneliness;
Alone I am, my heart aches; alone I am - empty ache of loneliness;
Alone I am, a crowd surrounds me; alone I am - I walk in aloneness!
Bronc-bonk! Crank-conk! A lone owl on tree honks on the riverbank!
Alone I am, where should I go? Alone I am, what should I do?
Alone I am I don't want to be so lonely; alone I am, what to do?
Alone I opened the gates of my heart; alone I am - none reached out;
Alone I am a lonesome thing; alone I am a stone, a bone - I am out!
Bronc-bonk! Crank-conk! A lone owl on tree honks on the riverbank!
Alone I am, I beg thee loneliness - don't creep into my life;
Alone I am, I implore thee aloofness - don't peep in my life;
Alone I am, I beseech thee loneness - don't peek in to my life.
Alone I am - all the time, round the clock, around the life!
Bronc-bonk! Crank-conk! A lone owl on tree honks on the riverbank!
Alone I am, in deep Pacific Ocean; alone I am, in deepest emotion,
Among the titan stars shivers a Talcott - a pretty little one!
Among the colossal planets quivers a Pluto - disqualified one!
Alone I am in the lotus flowers, alone I am - a lily in hesitation.
Bronc-bonk! Crank-conk! A lone owl on tree honks on the riverbank!
poem by Harindhar Reddy
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Slavery is a weed that grows on every soil.
quote by Edmund Burke
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Science grows like a weed every year.
quote by Kary Mullis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Arrogance is a weed that grows mostly on a dunghill.
The Weed
There was an old woman
that planted a garden.
And in the garden
there grew a weed.
The weed grew next to
a beautiful flower.
The flower had grown
from a tiny seed.
The weed was strong
and would not bend.
The wind did blow
and it did send
the seeds from the flower
into the air.
They circled around
and landed where
the weed was growing
next to the flower.
Soon the weed was
surrounded by flowers.
It loved where it was
and looked by the hours
at all of the beautiful
colorful flowers.
The old woman who planted
the garden one day
decided that she would
make a bouquet.
She went to the garden
to cut the flowers.
But when she got there
down came the showers.
The raindrops that fell
made the weed shine
which made the old woman
change her mind.
She left them alone
in her garden and knew
that the weed belonged
with the flowers that grew.
She'd planted the flowers.
God planted the weed.
The garden was perfect.
No bouquet did she need.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Undersea
Under the sea grows weed and fishes of grandeur,
The sharks are the small monsters to be amateur.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On Misago Beach
On Misago
Beach there grows
Sargasso weed-
I'll hold fast to your name
Though your parents know!
poem by Yamabe no Akahito
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Less than the dust beneath thy chariot wheel, less than the weed that grows beside thy door.
quote by Adela Florence Nicolson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'll Never Smoke Weed With Willie Again
I always heard that his herb was top shelf
I just couldn't wait to find out for myself
Don't knock it till you tried it, well I tried it my friend
I'll never smoke weed with Willie again
I learned a hard lesson in a small Texas town
He fired up a fat boy and he passed him around
The last words I spoke before they tucked me in
I'll never smoke weed with Willie again
I'll never smoke weed with Willie again
My party's all over before it began
You can pour me some old whiskey river my friend
But I'll never smoke weed with Willie again
I hopped on his old bus, the Honeysuckle Rose
The party was Vegas, it was after the show
Alone in the front lounge, just me and him
With one parting puff grime creeper set in
I'll never smoke weed with Willie again
My party's all over before it began
You can pour me some old whiskey river my friend
But I'll never smoke weed with Willie again
Now we're passing the guitar, telling good jokes
I know ones a coming cause I'm smelling smoke
No I do not partake, I just let it pass by
With a smile on my face and a great contact high
I'll never smoke weed with Willie again
My party's all over before it began
You can pour me some old whiskey river my friend
But I'll never smoke weed with Willie again
In the fetal position with drool on my chin
I messed up and smoked weed with Willie again
song performed by by Toby Keith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bite
BITE.
Maybe sharks glide in
the beatific blue sheet sea.
Unpredictable.
I clamber over saw-toothed
limestone, by crumbling cliffs.
RIVERBANK.
Soft skin flakes hang from twisted paperbarks over clear water.
Silt puffs and billows as circling writhing eels resolve into
a dark ray's fluted rims and a pale crab scoots to flimsy weed.
PASTEL.
Leaves, a far green haze,
aspiring flowering gums.
Sky-scaling Karris.
Peeling trunks reveal tints or
yellow, peach, brown and shell pink.
poem by Diane Hine
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Suffer The Night
I suffer the night
When it's time to face my sadness
And all I can do is cry
I suffer the night
When I struggle to find rest
Knowing in the morning I must rise
I suffer the night
When alone in the darkness
I wonder why I am alive
I suffer the night
When I succumb to blackness
And finally stop asking why
I suffer the night
As it battles my mind
And my spirit slowly dying
I suffer the night
As I reach for the light
And pray that my death be kind
poem by Sonya Florentino
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There is much boasting among the young men about their teams as their horse and carts in Cleveland. Most of the Yorkshire men take as much delight in their ox draught as they used to do in their Horse Draught.
quote by Nathaniel Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Johnny Appleseed
Through word of mouth let it be known
The man who spends his life on a mission, hes legendary
Travelling from coast to coast
Hes the contemporary johnny appleseed
Hes making sure his garden grows
Hell plant a seed in every town he goes
Fertilizing the country side
Couldnt stop him with insecticide
Makin sure that the garden grows,
Yeah,yeah,yeah
Groomin the backyard, or whackin a weed
When diggin holes, hell be wearing a glove
He go into the shed, get out a shovel, and he shove
Hell plant the seed, makin sure its sown
He go into the shed, and he start hoein with the hoe,
Ho,ho,ho
Makin sure that the garden grow,
Yeah,yeah,yeah
Hell water the yard with the garden hose
Groomin the backyard, or whackin a weed
Yeah,yeah,yeah
The contemporary johnny appleseed
song performed by by NOFX
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wacky Weed
Your fiction has a sickness,
And it is in deluxe.
Trimmed with a mouth piece minted,
Sweetened to touch.
Bong bong wicky sticky bong bong.
You fed on the weed.
You fed on that wacky weed.
You fed on the weed.
You fed on that wacky weed.
In a bong bong bong.
There is no truth you mention,
While you do that stuff.
Your motives are quite hidden,
And you munch too much.
You fed on the weed.
Wicky sticky bong bong
You fed on that wacky weed.
In a bong bong.
You fed on the weed.
Wicky sticky bong bong
You fed on that wacky weed.
In a bong bong bong.
Your fiction has a sickness,
And it is in deluxe.
Trimmed with a mouth piece minted,
Sweetened to touch.
Bong bong wicky sticky bong bong.
You fed on the weed.
Wicky sticky bong bong
You fed on that wacky weed.
In a bong bong.
You fed on the weed.
Wicky sticky bong bong
You fed on that wacky weed.
In a bong bong bong.
Wicky sticky bong bong.
Wick wicky sticky bong.
Wicky sticky bong bong.
Wick wicky sticky bong.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In Honor of Zen Master Dogen
When I walked into
my sister’s apartment
Annie danced merrily.
so I whispered
to my sister
“I’m jealous
cause I want her
to be like me:
a loser
flop
failure
washout
not just me
also you,
your darling husband
not leaving your son
the whole bunch of us.
Not that I want her
to suffer
cause when you fail miserably
at life
you suffer
but
when Annie grows up
she’s gonna feel out of place.
I stared
an entire existence
just movement.
poem by Charles Chaim Wax
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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