I want to cultivate the seed that was placed in me until the last small twig has grown.
quote by Kathe Kollwitz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I do not want to die... until I have faithfully made the most of my talent and cultivated the seed that was placed in me until the last small twig has grown.
quote by Kathe Kollwitz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To be ungrateful is nature
.
Seed to pod, pod to twig,
Twig to stem, stem to root
And root to earth must be grateful
For their existence. Do they?
To be ungrateful is a part of life.
08.08.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Seed
In the spring
when the air has warmed.
I
planted a seed
a tiny seed.
I
along with my faith
to Mother Earth entrusted it.
I
hoped she would
nourish and coax the blossom
hidden within that seed so small.
To
spring forth in the summertime
with
its beauty its fragrance.
That all may behold and enjoy.
Until
autumn time
when back it returns
to a seed to sleep
to wait.
To be reborn.
poem by Kurt Hearth
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Of the Seed n the Tree
Small is the seed
Mighty, the tree
The seed knows not
The tree it houses
The tree knows not
The seed it bears!
(01 Aug 2011)
poem by Indira Babbellapati
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Home Grown Tomatoes
There aint nothin in the world that I like better than bacon n lettuce n
Home grown tomatoes up in the mornin, out in the garden
Get you a ripe one, dont pick a hard un plant em in the spring, eat em in
The summer all winter without em is a culinary bummer I forget all about the
Sweatinand the digginevery time I go out and pick me a big un home grown
Tomatoes, home grown tomatoes what would life be like without home grown
Tomatoes only two things that money cant buy
Thats true love and home grown tomatoes you can go out to eat an thats for
Sure but theres nothina home grown tomatoe wont cure put em in a salad, put
em in a stew
You can make your own tomatoe juice
You can eat em with eggs, eat em with gravy you can eat em with beans, pinto
Or navy put em on the side, put em in the middle home grown tomatoes on a hot
Cake griddle home grown tomatoes, home grown tomatoes what would life be like
Without home grown tomatoes only two things that money cant buy
Thats true love and home grown tomatoes if is to change this life I lead
You could call me johnny tomatoe seed
cause I know what this country needs
Home grown tomatoes in every yard you see when I die dont bury me
In a box in a cold dark cemetery
Out in the garden would be much better
cause I could be pushin up a home grown tomatoe home grown tomatoes, home
Grown tomatoes what would life be like without home grown tomatoes only two
Things that money cant buy
Thats true love and home grown tomatoes
Words and music by guy clark
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Seen though not shown
Fell down a seed on a bed a year ago.
Has grown that seed to a plant by now.
How could it be if the bed was not wet?
A proof that she has been wet to grow my love.
Feign not that your heart is unwet
for my love to set in. Dare to accept.
28.05.99, Palakkad
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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As Though You Have Known It Forever
there is no such thing as done
everything is always unfinished
you think a bud dies, it does not
you think that the twig that you cut
remains cut
like a dead end of the road
that is always not the case
you think that the body of the man that we buried
is all that is,
that is not the real case
a story shall be borne it gives a bud and a twig another start
a poem is written it marks a new understanding
and the grain of sand becomes another planet
a drift wood becomes another one's dream of a bridge
it is not just the seed it is also the covering
not just the ring that you see but another one's marriage
a view can be immortalized in a painting
or even when the painting rots itself all colors cracking
there is always something that remains unsaid
it is
what is always unfinished
the one that we know but which we never uttered
the one we uttered but which we start to doubt and not really know
oh it is like a wheel of a bicycle
like the ring that you keep on wearing
like a hemisphere that you have traveled
over and over
as though you have known
it forever
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Mummy Wheat
LAID close to Death, these many thousand years,
In this small seed Life hid herself and smiled;
So well she hid, Death was at least beguiled,
Set free the grain--and lo! the sevenfold ears!
Warmed by the sun, wooed by the wind's soft word,
Under blue canopy they hold their state:
For this, ah, was it not worth while to wait
Through all the centuries of hope deferred?
What could they know who laid the seed with Death
Of this Divine fruition fixed and planned?
Love--since Life parts us--lend my hand your hand
And look with me into the eyes of faith.
For here between your hand and mine there lies
A little seed we trust to Death to keep
Through unimagined centuries of sleep
Until the day when Life shall bid it rise.
Our harvest waits us. Who knows where or how,
What worlds away, wrapped in what coil of pain?
But Life shall bid us pluck gold sevenfold grain
Grown from the love she bids us bury now.
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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)
To cultivate trees, you need 10 years. To cultivate people, you need 100 years.
Small Wonder
She broke her collar-bone
in a soccer game, meant for fun.
She's so tough and fearless, at times.
So small and fragile, at others.
Always she's a wonder, to me.
I'm afraid she just may
punch-out the high school bully...
or break, like a twig in a whirlwind.
She's soft; she's strong.
I'm proud of her; I worry about her.
She's my daughter; my small wonder.
My little girl, growing up.
And I love her,
endlessly.
poem by Smoky Hoss
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Painters
In the cave with a long-ago flare
a woman stands, her arms up. Red twig, black twig, brown twig.
A wall of leaping darkness over her.
The men are out hunting in the early light
But here in this flicker, one or two men, painting
and a woman among them.
Great living animals grow on the stone walls,
their pelts, their eyes, their sex, their hearts,
and the cave-painters touch them with life, red, brown, black,
a woman among them, painting.
poem by Muriel Rukeyser
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Well, listen, you know, the Czech saying is, you know, when you are drowning you are grabbing even a little twig. That's what all Czechs were doing, grabbing for... with the hope for this little twig.
quote by Milos Forman
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Ars Poetica
A poem should be palpable and mute
As a globed fruit
Dumb
As old medallions to the thumb
Silent as the sleeve-worn stone
Of casement ledges where the moss has grown -
A poem should be wordless
As the flight of birds
A poem should be motionless in time
As the moon climbs
Leaving, as the moon releases
Twig by twig the night-entangled trees,
Leaving, as the moon behind the winter leaves,
Memory by memory the mind -
A poem should be motionless in time
As the moon climbs
A poem should be equal to:
Not true
For all the history of grief
An empty doorway and a maple leaf
For love
The leaning grasses and two lights above the sea -
A poem should not mean
But be
poem by Archibald MacLeish
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bobbing
when the crow
lands on the twig
the weight
pushes the twig
down almost
reaching the ground
the bobbing
somewhat intrigues
the senses of the
caterpillar on the leaf
the tree frowns
upon a black alien
some leaves fall
and the grass as usual
keeps its silence
as the air passes by
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The seed and the plant
Having eaten the seed, the plant has grown.
Having eaten the lust, the love has grown.
The lust is dead in the marital love.
But that is the cause for numerous seeds
03.07.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Prey
early this morning
when i go out of my room
into a garden of trees
and stones
there with all fidelity
the spider is
spinning its web again
in the most usual
and visible manner
connecting a transparent
line from a twig
to another twig of the same
tree
soon another fly
or mosquito shall be caught
as its
unwary prey
the victim never learns
a thing.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When love is dead
You cut a twig
The leaves wilt
And then you say
Love is dead
I plant the twig
And bury the leaves
I dream of flowers
I wait for days
A bud springs
Then love is alive
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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