Bamboo is not a weed, it's a flowering plant. Bamboo is a magnificent plant.
quote by Steve Lacy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What do we plant when we plant a tree?
What do we get when we plant the tree?
We plant the ship which will cross the sea;
We plant the pencils to scribble our notes,
We plant the ballots to cast our votes;
We plant the paper in which we read,
The news that o'er wooden poles we speed,
We plant the piles to erect our docks;
We plant the rayon for shirts and socks.
What do we plant when we plant a tree?
We plant the houses for you and me;
We plant the rafters, the shingles, the floors,
We plant the studding, the lath, the doors,
The beams and siding, all the parts that be;
We plant the house when we plant the tree,
We plant the barrel, the box, the crate;
In which to ship all sorts of freight.
What do we plant when we plant a tree?
A thousand things that we daily see,
We plant the spire that out-towers the crag,
We plant the staff for our country's flag;
We plant the shade from the hot sun free,
We plant all these when we plant the tree.
poem by Henry Abbey
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Bamboo Bimbo
Well he caught his first whiff in the jungles
Ofnam
That slant-eyed catfish tasted better than mom
Now every single night she drops her big bomb
Cause hes a bamb00 bimbo
Those hook marks really show
Cause hes a bamboo bimb0
He went for it now everyone knows
Hes a bamboo bimb0
He caught his first glance in field and stream
That salt water taffy was a fishermans
Wet dream
Now every single night hes still gettin
That big ream
Cause hes a bamboo bimb0
He fell it and everyone knows
Hes a bamboo bimbo
Just a monkey with a ring in his nose
Hes a bambo0 bimbo
Cant say I never told ya so
Hes a bamboo bimb0
It go on and on and on
song performed by by Devo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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[My Little Green Plant]
I have a plant in my house.
Not a tree a shrub ore a shrew.
But a plant.
It's green and red and sparkle blue.
Healthy clean and sticky like glue.
Bold beautifully and fragrant to.
My little green plant, how I love you.
I love my plant all stretched out high.
When it's flowers open it reveals a surprise
Just imagine it as you close you're eyes.
My little green plant, always on my mind.
My plant is thirsty it needs special care.
Nutrients and light, without it would die.
Like a child growing up ill always be there.
12 weeks to grow, and not a care.
3 feed tall and producing air.
My little green plant with little red hairs.
The time has come that I must say good by,
my little green plant has grown up right.
I'll trim it nice and hold on tight,
my little green plant makes me happiest tonight.
I'll sow the seed and sign the deed,
my little green plants one hell of a weed.
Come on now people get your minds out of the gutter..... I'm just talking about sage! :)
poem by Seth Morrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On the Lake (1)
Mountain monks facing chess sit
Board on bamboo dark quiet
Shine bamboo no person see
Sometimes hear down chess piece sound
Two monks sit facing, playing chess on the mountain,
The bamboo shadow on the board is dark and clear.
Not a person sees the bamboo's shadow,
One sometimes hears the pieces being moved.
The Animal and the Plant
The animal has a name of wonder,
A plant may never attack a wonder,
For the body of an animal is taking the plant,
And bodies are getting bigger
As they grow with eating alone.
To respire the body is like a plant
That does it all the time.
The plant is like Us - it lives perfectly.
The plant is not absurd, it is unblemished,
And the animal is less perfect, just some.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bamboo Tunes and Cat Eyed Girl
In the murmuring evenings,
Cat eyed girl, worn ear-rings,
Stands by bamboo cluster,
Putting down pots of water.
Gilded bamboos sing and sway,
And the tired path becomes gay.
Bamboo hearts throb ever;
Unnamed tunes cease never.
Her bamboo throes resounded
In the gloomy wind unbounded.
Melodies of earth does shower
On her soul that does hover.
Finger tip of the wind brings
Sweet tunes from bamboo strings.
Music enters her inner grove,
Where the forlorn dreams rove.
Cuddled bamboos swing and say
What the lovers failed to say.
Never dying natural music
So keeps her hopes rhythmic.
poem by Fabiyas M V
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bamboozled
There is some things we do in life
We wish we could retrieve
The one action that triggers another
Having a result we can't conceive
That includes a hope or dream
That does not come true
Or, just not in quite the way
In which we would like it to
One of those moments I'd take back
That can still make me sigh and grieve
Was buying her a 'Good Fortune' bamboo plant
Never thinking that she’d ever leave
poem by Edward Iacona
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Torture
When they torture your mother
plant a tree
When they torture your father
plant a tree
When they torture your brother
and your sister
plant a tree
When they assassinate
your leaders
and lovers
plant a tree
Whey they torture you
too bad
to talk
plant a tree.
When they begin to torture
the trees
and cut down the forest
they have made
start another.
poem by Alice Walker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Flute - a triolet
Hollow and holes of bamboo played with air.
Most natural, magical, musical instrument.
Makes melodious the complete atmosphere
Hollow and holes of bamboo played with air.
In hands of Lord Krishna, Hindus wish to be flute.
In tranquillity, ears sense celestial experience.
Hollow and holes of bamboo played with air;
Most natural, magical, musical instrument.
poem by S.D. Tiwari
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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God can be realized through all paths. All religions are true. The important thing is to reach the roof. You can reach it by stone stairs or by wooden stairs or by bamboo steps or by a rope. You can also climb up by a bamboo pole.
quote by Ramakrishna
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Plant and your spouse plants with you; weed and you weed alone.
quote by Jean Jacques Rousseau
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Bamboo Tree Poem
see the coming of the wind
from the prairies
see how it is playing with the
leaves of the bamboo tree
see how a bamboo leaf falls
to the ground
withered by the sun
and now flip-flopping
like an Olympic diver
see how it finally touches
the womb of the earth
silently it lies there
soundlessly it appears
like any other leaf
beside a woman now
sleeping
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Plant More Trees
Plant more trees
As it looks green
And save the homes of the animals please.
Plant more trees
As it looks green
To keep the humans safe
From pollution and disease.
Plant more trees
As it looks green
To keep the cities beautiful and clean.
And throw the garbage into a dustbin.
Stop cutting trees
And plant more trees
For a long live of you and me!
poem by Srijita Das
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sea Plant
The sea plant lives inside of the sea here at home
And it was God that created the sea so that the sea plant could live in it
But if you dive in the sea you will have to dive all the way to the bottom of the sea so that you can see the sea plant
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Mountain Lovers
See the winding path
Like a thousand connecting boas
Frozen in false stillness
Leading to the foot of the mountain
And there
Hear the quick fall
Of a ripe mango
And the stringing
Of the bamboo leaves
The cracking
Of a bamboo stairway
Antiquity
Leading to a cogon-masked
Door
Walling in a masterpiece
Of a man
And a woman
In love
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Weed
Though progress does attempt to prevent
A plant from feeling the warmth of the day,
One small weed crawls through the sidewalk cement,
Forking between two slabs of my pathway.
I pass it, startled by the protrusion,
Impressed that it had learned how to survive.
It seems to thrive despite its seclusion—
Despite all the pollutions that deprive
It. Secondhand water quenches its thirst.
Garbage cloisters in the cracks that surround
It. Yet, the weed does not appear coerced
By the filth that litters the paltry ground.
Somewhere beside the congested gridlock
Of traffic, this plant stands—in the sidewalk.
I stare at the weed for a moment to
Wonder why no one had plucked it before.
It was not something I had sought to do,
But I pondered about what it lived for—
Why it challenged the street with sturdy roots
Or fought industry with a stable stem.
What made its will thoroughly absolute,
Woven to the Earth by a steady hem?
I wanted to hold the plant in my hand,
To cradle its would-be wilting branches—
To be able to truly understand
What the purpose of its burdened life is.
I would take that from the weed so I know
That there is reason left for me to grow.
I resisted the urge to tear the weed
From the ground, dirt shaking as it ascends.
Stealing its life would not provide my need
To discover my answer. I pretend
To break its being from the nature
That has nurtured it, although hostile,
In the hope that I could maybe capture
Its source vitality after a while.
Then I relax, leaving it all alone,
To fend for itself against the climates
And social structures of steel and of stone—
A world possessed by the inanimate.
I walk away and once again it went.
One small weed crawls through the sidewalk cement.
poem by Tim Stensloff
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An Arrangement
.. and so we went to her place
in a house where her only furniture
is a bamboo bed
she holds my face
she kneels down
she kisses my hand
as though she is my slave
... and so something which should not have happened happened
there's that tinge of guilt
i wanted her to say she loves me
but she didn't
she made me happy all the way
all way through that lonely night
on that bamboo bed
that following morning
when she was still fast asleep
i kissed her hair
put something beside her
that she loves most
it will make her survive perhaps for a month
even without love
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If your vision is for a year plant wheat, if you vision is for a decade plant trees, and if your vision is for a lifetime plant people.
The North Window: Bamboo and Rock
A magisterial rock windswept and pure
and a few bamboo so lavish and green:
facing me, they seem full of sincerity.
I gaze into them and can't get enough,
and there's more at the north window
and along the path beside West Pond:
wind sowing bamboo clarities aplenty,
rain gracing the subtle greens of moss.
My wife's still here, frail and old as me,
but no one else: the children are gone.
Leave the window open. If you close it,
who'll keep us company for the night?