The weeds keep multiplying in our garden, which is our mind ruled by fear. Rip them out and call them by name.
quote by Sylvia Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Spreaders Of Negativity
The spreaders of negativity now as ever are not rare
And that the World is ruled by negative people we are only too aware
With wars waging in some Countries and poor people to be found everywhere
And so much financial hardship and unhappiness in the bigger World out there,
The World is ruled by negative people and their weapon for to cling to power is fear
And 'tis only negative stuff from them we ever do hear
For to cling to power they create fear and division of their promotion of us against they
We'd be better off without their type as leaders that's how I feel anyway
We will never know of peace in the World as long as negative people hold the power
In a garden that is ruled by weeds you won't find any flower
As long as negative people are in positions of power peace we will never know
With them as our leaders mistrust between us and those different to us grow
The spreaders of negativity with us do have their way
They only cause division would that seem fair to say?
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Heavenly Abode
Heavenly abode, I call on you to flirt with me,
Realise my dream, inwardly and outwardly
In the stroke of genius and the intelligence it provides.
Heavens are only being houses of pearls
Meant for the rivers of milk, the honey is everywhere
If you travel far enough and downward
In the aching avenues of grass and no weeds.
There is a garden there of blessings,
Weeds are conquered by flowers of appeal.
The fruit I call upon mutters into my mouth,
This will explode and render me indefensible.
The sheer glory is about of a wonderful time
In the succulent corner of all-existence.
poem by Naveed Akram
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In the Garden, With My Father
It is spring.
As in my garden, I stand.
In the garden -
My father is there;
... though long since gone...
He IS there.
I tend to the weeds,
The veggies and flowers...
He is there.
I never understood him
(as I should have, could have) ...
Until now,
Here, in the garden.
Where I, like he, work the soil.
I've come just recently
(these last few years)
To enjoy and love my garden so.
- I am not as surprised afterall, as I would have thought,
To find him here.
Here, in the garden.
He loved his garden very much.......
I - at that early age of restless youth - had no use
For such slow moving things.
But now, I see, and myself move, at a much slower pace.
Therefore, it is him I am here and now able to see,
In the garden.
Watching it all grow, so peacefully.
It is somewhat sad, that now,
When I can no longer tell him,
I understand.
For I have come to find... I love the garden too,
Just as much as he;
And we both always will.
My father - standing in the garden -
I now know.
After all these long years.
And I've missed him so;
But, how wonderful to find,
He IS here...
In the garden, our garden,
Always, with me.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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Name The Rose
Name The Rose.
All those bloody roses I’m, weeding my garden and
around the house, but they keep coming through.
The slightest cracks in pavements and up they come
ruining the best laid walkway. Unstoppable blowing
a raspberry to any guard who tries to challenge them.
On the track where I walk blue weeds try to break
through and get a bit of sun light, but gory roses
have stolen, occupied all the best air and land. It has
happened before, will happen again, they eventually
will be cut down, but history mostly written by roses,
will call it a calamity and tell us not to forget. For a few
years lesser blue weeds can be free and pursue their
freedom, but they must never forget roses scents can
overwhelm the strongest mind.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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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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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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Alexandrines
There is a house that most of all on earth I hate.
Though I have passed through many sorrows and have been
In bloody fields, sad seas, and countries desolate,
Yet most I fear that empty house where the grasses green
Grow in the silent court the gaping flags between,
And down the moss-grown paths and terrace no man treads
Where the old, old weeds rise deep on the waste garden beds.
Like eyes of one long dead the empty windows stare
And I fear to cross the garden, I fear to linger there,
For in that house I know a little, silent room
Where Someone’s always waiting, waiting in the gloom
To draw me with an evil eye, and hold me fast—
Yet thither doom will drive me and He will win at last.
poem by Clive Staples Lewis
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Cancer blooms...
Cancer blooms in the corporeal garden
Slow, dreamlike, insistent
Not advertising its next appearance
Choosing at will among the garden’s delights.
I don’t care so far to die
Or not to die. I care
To live outside of fear
And inside the present time of life.
Shall I live as slow as cancer moves
In harmony and equal intensity
Multiplying thoughts and creative waves
As it multiplies itself?
We find ourselves locked fatally together
In negotiated inevitability –
Host and uninvited guest
Who depends on me as I depend on her
For life, destruction and survival.
Come with me, ill-intentioned friend.
Be part of me. Let’s do our worst and best.
poem by Frank Bana
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The Nit Picker
A garden full of tender care
brings joy beyond and above
NOT UNLIKE A CHILD
When given unconditional love
For like a garden that’s picked and picked
a child will not grow
for so much picking just destroys the roots
and no more blossoms will show
From the depth of the earth the weeds appear
their ugly forms take over
the child that’s hurt shows anger abound
and the offender should run for cover
So slow down now and think about
the damage that you have done
AS A PARENT OF SUCH A
WONDERFUL CHILD
who’s life has just begun
Don’t turn her into a garden of weeds
its time, from where I'm sitting
turn it around with love abound
and stop that cruel nit picking
poem by Janice M Pickett
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If I Ruled The World
If I ruled the world,
many changes I would make.
It would be required
that happiness shone
from everyone’s eyes,
not hate or oppression.
If I ruled the world,
I would require
everyone to love each other
as a sister or a brother
and care for those suffering
from the pains of illness.
If I ruled the world,
I would want it to be
a happier and more loving place
of lasting peace.
There would be no wars,
no hurt in anyone’s life.
Life would be long
and held with respect.
If I ruled the world
this is what I would require,
but sadly I do not
and my dreams are just dreams
of a place we call tranquillity.
However, if I ruled the world
I would try to make tranquillity
into our own reality.
I February 2010
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Be down to see above
When prosperity rules,
Fear is not ruled out.
When adversity rules,
Hope is not ruled out.
29.04.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Life's Garden
We all grow up in this Garden called Life,
There are many inner and outer strifes,
In the silence, in the silence,
In this beautiful Garden called Life!
There are weeds and pests in this Garden called Life,
They are know as ignorance, greed, and vice.
In the silence, in the silence,
In this beautiful Garden called Life.
Every garden needs sunshine and rain,
In this garden you will find joy and pain.
In this silence, in the silence,
In this beautiful Garden called Life!
Plant sparsely, your harvest will be a pittance,
Plant bountifully, your harvest will be munificence,
In this silence, in the silence,
In this beautiful Garden called Life!
Did you plant deeds of joy, love and peace?
Or did you drop seeds of hatred, conflict, and gloom?
The world will know by the plants' bloom.
In the silence, in the silence,
In this beautiful Garden called Life!
poem by Anna B. Kurzweil
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dancing with Fear
Tis very hard to face what is frightening
But call to fears to dance.
When you face fear itself
It is no where to be found.
Fear can never survive total
Meeting with consciousness.
When it arises to the surface,
The implulse is to overcome.
Invite fear when it comes,
Fear is only powerful when escaping.
So call to fear,
Where are you? Open the door and let it in.
Fear can lead to isolation and separation,
So just call out 'Dance with me! '
Fear no longer exists,
and we are free.
poem by Carolyn Marie Taylor
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The Garden
There is a fenceless garden overgrown
With buds and blossoms and all sorts of leaves;
And once, among the roses and the sheaves,
The Gardener and I were there alone.
He led me to the plot where I had thrown
The fennel of my days on wasted ground,
And in that riot of sad weeds I found
The fruitage of a life that was my own.
My life! Ah, yes, there was my life, indeed!
And there were all the lives of humankind;
And they were like a book that I could read,
Whose every leaf, miraculously signed,
Outrolled itself from Thought’s eternal seed.
Love-rooted in God’s garden of the mind.
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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There Is A Secret Garden In My Heart
where i grow
some weeds
and flowers
with colors
and scents
not of your liking
i hide them
there
only for me
to see
and smell
and touch
you do not
know
i am more real
in this garden
my home
away from
you
where i can
be a weed
a grass
and not the
flower
that you always
love
in this garden
where
i am alone
where
i can be myself
away from
the clutches
of your choking
gaze
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Caring For My Garden
Negative thoughts are not,
allowed in my garden.
I clear weeds as I go,
Sprinkle positive thoughts,
Sew new seeds daily,
I am the gardner,
Caring for my garden.
poem by Heather Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Stanzas in Meditation
She may count three little daisies very well
By multiplying to either six nine or fourteen
Or she can be well mentioned as twelve
Which they may like which they can like soon
Or more than ever which they wish as a button
Just as much as they arrange which they wish
Or they can attire where they need as which say
Can they call a hat or a hat a day
Made merry because it is so.
poem by Gertrude Stein
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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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The Garden
The Garden
By: Adam M. Snow
The garden blooms to your delight;
to and from this very night.
When you are but one;
this garden blooms until you're done.
Keep that in mind but out of sight;
this garden is full of roses so white.
Open up and let shine the sun;
for Springtime has only begun.
Show off your garden so bright;
for there is no need to fight.
Now go on, no need to run;
when you're in your garden my son.
poem by Adam M. Snow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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