Vacant Lot With Pokeweed
Tufts, follicles, grubstake
biennial rosettes, a low-
life beach-blond scruff of
couch grass: notwithstanding
the interglinting dregs
of wholesale upheaval and
dismemberment, weeds do not
hesitate, the wheeling
rise of the ailanthus halts
at nothing—and look! here's
a pokeweed, sprung up from seed
dropped by some vagrant, that's
seized a foothold: a magenta-
girdered bower, gazebo twirls
of blossom rounding into
raw-buttoned, garnet-rodded
fruit one more wayfarer
perhaps may salvage from
the season's frittering,
the annual wreckage.
poem by Amy Clampitt
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Related quotes
The Seed
The wind carried the seed
Into the air to who knows where
Across the weeds, floated the seed
Until to rest on the earth, which laid bare.
And then cried the seed upon the rise
Someday I, I will be a tree,
Liken my brothers, who will be like me
And I will grow to touch the sky.
The seed again journeyed upon the wind
Over the grass and wooded paths
Above the trees, cousins to him
Past the flowers who were his friends.
While he dreamed someday; he too would have many limbs.
The seed finally lighted upon the ground
From where he chose, so his mighty roots would grow
God will water me and give me light, he cried
He will also destroy my enemies and help me rise,
But then arrived a bird, who ate the seed.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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The Sower
The winds had hushed at last as by command;
The quiet sky above,
With its grey clouds spread oer the fallow land,
Sat brooding like a dove.
There was no motion in the air, no sound
Within the tree-tops stirred,
Save when some last leaf, fluttering to the ground,
Dropped like a wounded bird.
Or when the swart rooks in a gathering crowd
With clamorous noises wheeled,
Hovering awhile, then swooped with wrangling loud
Down to the stubbly field.
For now the big-thewed horses, toiling slow
In straining couples yoked,
Patiently dragged the plowshare to and fro
Till their wet haunches smoked.
Till the stiff acre, broken into clods,
Bruised by the harrow's tooth,
Lay lightly shaken, with its humid sods
Ranged into furrows smooth.
There looming lone, from rise to set of sun,
Without or pause or speed,
Solemnly striding by the furrows dun,
The sower sows the seed.
The sower sows the seed, which mouldering,
Deep coffined in the earth,
Is buried now, but with the future spring
Will quicken into birth.
Oh, poles of birth and death! Controlling Powers
Of human toil and need!
On this fair earth all men are surely sowers,
Surely all life is seed!
All life is seed, dropped in Time's yawning furrow,
Which with slow sprout and shoot,
In the revolving world's unfathomed morrow,
Will blossom and bear fruit.
poem by Mathilde Blind
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Hope enlivens
Many months had to roll on
To ignite her feeling for me,
Many more, to fan her desire,
Some more, to let her know my intention
And still more for her inclination.
Then it became an open secret,
Both moving each coin
With known intention.
Trysts took place with mates present.
Notwithstanding her freeness,
Notwithstanding her passion
And notwithstanding occasions,
She refused to budge further.
The parting came sooner.
It turned a fruitless crop,
While continuing to flower.
I still water for a miraculous fruit.
06.09.2002
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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A Seed of Love
sitting here
leaned against the couch
finding words
to write down
begging my heart
to feel what i know
what i know is gone
gone without flow
but i found a seed
a seed to plant
behind this couch
in my hand
a seed of love
love, life, compassion
a simple thing
needs so much to grow
a stem
some leaves
with life to show
love needs time
time, work, and action
love needs work
with a life
full of tension
so i say
lets make it work
lets take this seed
and make it perk
perk up with life
life, love, compassion
poem by Audrey Marie Kay
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808 Garnet Birthstone Of January
The garnet is a complicated and lesser known gemstone. There is a Family of Garnets (seven major classifications) and they are all very hard glassy silicates. They contain a variety of metals and have a wide colour range from black to colourless. Some rare forms of Garnet are more valuable than diamonds.
Garnet - crystal structure rhombic
Deep red - orange - yellow - purple
Green and colourless - brown and black.
Green for nature - red for power
Black for death and mauve for grieving
Worn for protection from the plague
Gem exchanged when friends are leaving
Rhombic structure crystal - Garnet
Garnet January's birthstone
Capricorn her birth sign twin
Found in North and South America
Guards from poison plague and sin.
Greeks all wore them to keep bright
Romans wore them with engraving
To protect them through the night.
Birthstone January's Garnet.
Seven major forms for Garnet
Deep red Pyrope precious necklace
Graced the necks of rich Victorians
Rhodolite is deep rich purple
The purest green is Demantido
The Garnet has a secret power
It really peps up one's libido! ! !
Garnet for forms - major seven.
Versatile is gemstone Garnet
Garnet crystal structure rhombic
Garnet January's birthstone
Seven major forms for Garnet.
Garnet for forms - major seven
Birthstone January's Garnet
Rhombic structure crystal Garnet
Garnet gemstone is versatile.
Thsi poem is dedicated to the Angel of January,
(John Knight - Frosty Colchester - 1 February 2010)
poem by John Knight
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A Seed Within
what are you going to do?
he might ask
are you going to wait
are you going to wait
for the seed to take root
bloom and bear fruit
leave it to me
he might say
i will give you the fruit in a capsule
you give me your seed...why toil
he would ploy
A FRUIT IN A CAPSULE IS'NT A FRUIT AT ALL
The path too is a joy
the growth too is a joy
from the seed to the fruit
a spiritual share is a joy too
the giver and the taker share the joy
if it was a share
which gave you joy
how can you use it
as a ploy
poem by Samanyan Lakshminarayanan
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Magenta
Longing for winter
Longing for cold
Bikeride through the snow
Blinded by darkness
Summer flows to the cemetery slow
Pink versus black
Black versus magenta
This picture of you
Just melts in my agenda
While seasons change you know
Yes, the season change you know
With the flow
Days just shorten
Days just glow
This fire keeps us warm
While this storm will uncover
Our secret place called
The cemetary dawn
Pink versus black
Black versus magenta
This picture of you
Just melts in my agenda
While seasons change you know
Yes, season change you know
( look left )
With the flow
( look down )
( look up )
( look right )
( youre camouflaged by a wall of blue )
( and turn the world magenta ... )
song performed by by Hooverphonic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mowing
There was not a sound
but that of the machine
that howl against the sky
and magically sheared the grass
from where it grew.
No bushes of grass, or even weeds
could keep its length
when that yellow long necked
Weedeater appeared.
Grass, weeds and stems
were scattered everywhere
and underneath, with the smell
of mown grass in the air
a beautiful lawn appeared.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Mysteries of The Kingdom
Some mysteries of The Kingdom were, given in parables for us to infer,
Some secrets of The Kingdom of God, while still upon this earthly sod.
Parables spoken by Jesus Christ, to demonstrate Truths of Eternal Life,
Hidden from the hearts and eyes; where God’s Truths are just despised.
Christ spoke of the faithful sower, planting seed for the Eternal Grower,
Then Jesus Christ went on to say, that not all seed fell in the same way,
Some fell onto the walking path, and soon destroyed, by Satan’s wrath.
Some seed fell upon the rocky soil, and with no root, soon would spoil.
Some seed fell within thorny soil, and was unfruitful because of the toil.
But in good soil some was sown, and an abundance of fruit was grown.
The Kingdom, Christ went on to say, was just like a field in another way,
Where there was good seed sown, weeds around that wheat had grown.
For the enemy had sown in the field, weeds where the crop would yield,
But to not uproot what was good, he let the weeds grow as they would.
The weeds would remain until harvest, but not to be treated as the rest,
The weeds are bundled to be burned, saving the wheat as they learned.
And in the garden is the mustard seed, with a Truth that we could heed,
Small and unimpressive in size, but, from it the largest plant would rise.
Christ spoke of yeast and its effect, in The Kingdom through the Elect,
Just as it is mixed in the dough, with the Spirit, growth begins to show.
The Kingdom’s like hidden treasure, filling the finder with such pleasure,
That he hides it again and is glad, to buy the field, spending all he had.
Like a fine pearl found by a merchant; all his property, would be spent,
To buy this one pearl of such worth, one which he found, here on earth.
The Kingdom of Heaven’s like a net, of a fisherman and all of his catch,
When it’s full and pulled to shore, it had good fish but it also had more,
The good, put into baskets to keep; the bad thrown back into the deep.
This, just like the end of this Age, with the deep being an eternal grave,
When angels gather souls of men, the righteous and those condemned,
The condemned, to fires below, while the righteous, to Heaven they go.
All these parables spoken of, illustrate The Kingdom of Heaven above,
And by Jesus Christ, are given to us, who in Him have placed our trust.
(Copyright ©01/2008)
Wheeling
So the Earth is wheeling on
As wheeling the sun and moon
And wheeling the Time on ages and aeons
As wheeling the life on births and deaths
And wheeling on are hope and despair
As peace and woe chasing one another
And good and bad luck are two wheels
creatures all in destiny's colours
And creatures all wheel around what
An unknown power-point, the Pivot
And we the comparted wheeling specials
On quarrels are we to spin our visuals
And we the comparted human specials
Aren't we to wheel on our sixth sense
poem by Indira Renganathan
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A Summer Morn
Season of mist and mellow fruit,
Of blossom and scented air.
Bird song and busy bee,
seem to inhabit everywhere
Grass green horizon,
velvet blue morning sky.
A little bird with a sweet song,
is singing on wing high in the sky.
Dew laden petals sparkle,
under the new day’s sun.
While somewhere in the distance,
children are laughing and having fun.
3 Nov 1978
poem by David Harris
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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 Human Being
A tiny seed is placed in the ground,
It's the start of the miracle of life,
Before very long growth will be found,
Making ready for the stresses and strife.
Throughout the seasons that seed will grow,
Nurture it and a gem will be found,
Treat it with contempt and soon it will show,
There's no goodness inside to be found.
It's an individual with a mind of its own,
Treat it wisely and you can be sure,
When your seed has finally grown,
It's guaranteed to turn out to be pure.
Will it bear fruit well that's up to you,
Have you treated it with love and respect,
Or did you ignore it and cause it ado,
If you did it's the dregs you'll collect.
Never forget we were all seedlings once,
Ignorance towards others must be learned,
Treasure all life do not be a dunce,
Respect from others as a gift must be earned.
Life is a challenge regardless of type,
We're all together in a fight to survive,
As Humans we tend to believe our own hype,
Interdependency is what makes all life thrive.
We are the masters of greed and corruption,
For our future we don't seem to care,
As all life forms now face disruption,
Now's the time to make everyone aware.
Our continued arrogance will bring us all down,
We must acknowledge we are not all seeing,
If we don't we'll be witnessing the death of the clown,
Otherwise titled,
‘' The Human Being ''
Waiting On The Wheat Harvest
as you sow brothers sisters so you wheat harvest reap
as a grain of wheat dies germinates bears fruit to heap
Jesus will completely clean up threshing floor gather his wheat
chaff he will burn up with unquenchable fire hell suffering heat
an enemy came in over sowed weeds in among seed wheat
reapers harvest collect weeds burn them saving only wheat
Satan demands sifts men as wheat to blow away in sifting wind
Son of man will send angels to gather chosen ones from ill wind
a grain of wheat falls into the ground dies then bears fruit new life
so hate soul temptation in this world safeguard soul for eternal life
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Magic Flower
THROUGH many days and many days
The seed of love lay hidden close;
We walked the dusty tiresome ways
Where never a leaf or blossom grows.
And in the darkness, all the while,
The little seed its heart uncurled,
And we by many a weary mile
Travelled towards it, round the world.
To the hid centre of the maze
At last we came, and there we found--
O happy day, O day of days!
--Twin seed-leaves breaking holy ground.
We dropped life's joys, a garnered sheaf,
And spell-bound watched, still hour by hour,
Magic on magic, leaf by leaf,
The unfolding of our love's white flower.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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A Dream Of Evolution....
shall a seed be
a seed forever?
do you not dream
someday that it shall
be planted
so that it can sprout
and grow
and then finally see
its flower
and fruit?
must the flower and fruit
be just the same
like the rest of the histories of
the other seeds
of their own form and kind?
must i hope
for an evolution
a seed turning
into a bee
a bee into
a butterfly into wind
into star?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Man can and must prevent the tragedy of famine in the future instead of merely trying with pious regret to salvage the human wreckage of the famine, as he has so often done in the past.
quote by Norman Borlaug
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At The Tide's Will
WHEN the tide came surging in
To the beach it bore
Drift-wood and brown weeds —
These — and nothing more!
As the stranded weeds and wood
Borne by the sea,
Tossed at the wind's will,
Even so are we!
When the tide went out again
From the beach, it bore
Drift-wood and brown weeds —
These — and nothing more!
Little peace is ours indeed,
Little rest we know —
Weeds at the Tide's will
Tossed to and fro!
poem by Roderic Quinn
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Poverty's Grass
Arrogance said
We eat Poverty's grass
As Mockery fed
Biased high class
Now the famine
The Suicide breed
Pride is the sin
Destroyed your seed
We may eat grass
But you eat the soil
Your words are brass
And now you recoil
Grass tastes better
That you must know
But Death is the bitter
Seed that you grow
Dried and barren
Your land had become
Our grass can be eaten -
Do you want some?
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Second of Evil
Second of Evil
Battle bee, you are second of evil
Why so much whispering with flower?
Flower comes of flower
Seed comes of fruit
Are all these your deeds?
Affection of soil installs life at road towards Tamarisk tree.
Love of season causes the fair of flower.
If sun does not rises tomorrow
Then what will be done of battle bee?
Battle bee what you whisper with flower?
Only god knows which came first the tree or the seed.
poem by Bongokobida Zakaria
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