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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Related quotes
Sonnet: Let Goodness Always Prevail
The mammoth trees are cut for timber's sake;
Large trees along the roads are felled as well;
The smaller ones in wild now grow and swell;
Then clouds to pour the rain, how can God make!
When virtues aren't nurtured in life sometime,
Then vices grow with vengeance in man's heart;
When bells of praise and hymns to God don't chime,
Blessings and grace from heaven can't depart.
When man's good deeds are stopped for reasons much,
His sins grow from a mole to mountain size;
How can the Maker's favours ever touch,
As sins abound and soul afills with vice?
For God to bless, our righteousness must grow,
And seeds of virtues, good deeds, one must sow!
poem by John Celes
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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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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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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
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Sonnet: Money
Money when God-given, will everlast;
Though spend you may like water for good deeds;
Money when earned by man will get spent fast;
And never can suffice to meet your needs.
Money when God-given will grow like trees,
And give you many luscious fruits and seeds;
Money when earned by man is gone with th'breeze,
And grows to be like scattered, useless weeds.
Money when God-given in time will stay;
Remaining blest, it helps to change man's fate;
Money when earned by man fritters away,
And invites vices, troubles, peoples' hate.
Money God-given can't beget evils,
The soul stays pure, resistant to devils.
poem by John Celes
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Raise Your Head Fearlessly Above Shade!
Look at the Nature around,
whether trees and plants know or not,
Their roots surly know,
water that quench their thirst,
where they can find minerals for growth,
Are in this soil and in the Nature!
Animals live in nature's garden,
birds and butterfly,
Know where they can be happy!
O man, know for sure
tender plants with tender roots,
Need shade and care,
no tree can grow under shade of another tree,
Come out of shades and shadows,
Once roots become firm,
once you absorb essence wanted,
Raise your head fearlessly above shades,
Breath the fresh air Rain and sunshine,
feel the heat and cold to become free,
The potential is there in you,
Open the packet of reasoning and wisdom,
Never bury it,
What Almighty had embedded in your heart!
The fountain of infinite bliss is within you,
Never thereafter you feel thirsty,
More you can share the fruits,
With that sweet knowledge,
Whoever thirsty can sip it till his own roots grow,
You are done,
you have done!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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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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My Trees
The tree has branches so full of life’s teaching,
Anyone stays inside this house of wood.
My trees are in my garden of roses,
They are full of beauty, my garden tries hard
To learn and grow like humans and animals.
Your knowledge survives, my garden lives on
As it deserves to, my harder gardening is a concept.
Trees increase us in numbers, plants normally learn
Outright, their infinity is greater than ours.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Quite Naturally for M 'lady Tai Chi Italy
My garden is a wilderness.
Devoid of all formality
but full of beauty nonetheless.
There everything grows naturally.
Self seeded plants grow where they please
with trees and shrubs placed randomly.
A haunt of butterflies and bees
and fairies too quite probably.
I do not choose to interfere
with what nature decides to do
She knows what plants will flourish here
but always subject to review.
She is a master gardener
superior to any man.
It is entirely up to her
to carry out her master plan.
There’s nothing that I need to do.
Nature supplies the maintenance.
As seasons change so does the view.
Always kept in perfect balance.
The only thing which I supply
are garden seats of weathered wood.
Chosen to blend in carefully
as I intended that they should.
Somewhere to sit and meditate
or if you choose, to read or write.
And sometimes if the hour grows late.
Enjoy the quiet of the night.
My garden is a wilderness
devoid of all formality.
Not the result of laziness
I leave it how it wants to be
26-Sep-08
http: //.blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Our Marriage Is Our Garden
Our marriage is our garden.
I want our garden to be beautiful.
With lush green grass,
With fragrant and colourful flowers.
A place of solace.
A place of peace.
A place of love.
Our garden must be watered.
Not watered too much.
As that would saturate the ground.
Not watered too little.
As that would leave the plants wilted.
And our grass barren.
But regularly.
So the flowers can stand tall
It must be weeded.
It must be maintained.
It must be loved.
We will plant seeds in our garden.
For new life makes any garden more beautiful and diverse.
We can harvest the fruit trees, but our harvest is limited
If we eat all the fruit too quick,
Then we must wait until the next harvest to eat again.
If we don't pick the fruit when it is right, it will spoil.
Our harvest is for our family.
If I eat all the fruit myself, then they will starve.
If we eat too much we will get sick.
If we eat what we are supposed to, then we will be healthy.
If we do not monitor the fruit,
Then someone might eat more than their share.
If we do not stand guard in our garden,
A thief might come into the garden to steal our fruit.
The fruit for our family.
For their garden must be barren and their crops have spoiled.
Our garden will stand the test of all seasons.
As all gardens do.
Another garden will also experience the same seasons.
Just at different times.
All gardens face rain.
All gardens get sun.
It is the rain that nourishes the garden and helps it's life to grow.
But our garden must be maintained regularly.
Only artificial things require no maintenance.
The artificial has no life.
It is fake, it is plastic.
Our garden needs to be real.
So life may grow and continue to grow.
So one day our children can enjoy a garden of their own.
For them and their children.
May their garden be overflowing with life and love.
And be the most beautiful garden in the world.
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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Give the children an opportunity to make garden. Let them grow what they will. It matters less that they grow good plants than that they try for themselves.
quote by Liberty Hyde Bailey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
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Wildflowers
The hills were alive with wildflowers
And I was as wild, even wilder than they
For at least I could run, they just died in the sun
And I refused to just wither in place
Just a wild mountain rose, needing freedom to grow
So I ran fearing not where Id go
When a flower grows wild, it can always survive
Wildflowers dont care where they grow
And the flowers I knew in the fields where I grew
Were content to be lost in the crowd
They were common and close, I had no room for growth
I wanted so much to branch out
I uprooted myself from home ground and left
Took my dreams and I took to the road
When a flower grows wild, it can always survive
Wildflowers dont care where they grow
I grew up fast and wild and I never felt right
In a garden so different from me
I just never belonged, I just longed to be gone
So the garden, one day, set me free
Hitched a ride with the wind and since he was my friend
I just let him decide where wed go
When a flower grows wild, it can always survive
Wildflowers dont care where they grow
Repeat chorus
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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I Lose the Battle
I stand forlorn on the edge of the farm,
Where grow the young plants of deeds,
I see growing, springing the sown corn,
Amid the sticky poisonous trailing weeds.
Yellow sick, pale and frail is the crop,
But the weeds too healthy, too green,
They grow as the demonial desires do,
How should I weed, make the farm clean?
Though they are poisonous yet sweet,
More delicious than the daintier food,
That is why we deceive and we cheat,
And brood them, brood them brood.
To weed them I resolve again and again,
They ripen soon unguarded, unattended,
Without the sunshine and without the rain,
And at last I lose the battle unammended.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Kill Instincts To Smile At Death!
Don't kill animals, you are more animal than human,
more and more you learn,
You find animals live in you, Kill their instincts in own your mind,
Humanity and love are that strange light,
in which instincts dry and die and vanish,
you need not find and kill them,
Or you need not banish!
Patience and compassion grow quick and wide,
Under them how can weeds like instinct and ego grow?
Don't kill your desires, not allow them to kill you!
be better gardner of own mind,
neither prune them,
nor water
Only plant good virtues and thoughts and take care of deeds,
Care and nurture only love,
Like to live like peaceful dove,
Love that takes care of them remove all pests and weeds!
Don't kill the time, use it well
Some day time may bring you the death,
Do well here, living satisfied,
Welcome your new friend, with a warm hand,
'Hello, my dear Death, how do you do? '
Take this body and mind and everything,
They were always yours, and you are the real owner,
I was that homeless, nameless, formless, tenant,
But never I was hopeless or
Faithless!
And I am that vacating, and you need not force me out!
You could see me,
who I am
Unlike my past lives,
I am now not even that absolute soul of universe,
I am awaken to sleep in my awareness!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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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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I Grow Old
i grow old, i grow old
i shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled
and steal from TS Eliot
thinking no-one knows
i grow old, i grow old
i shall cease to do what i am told
and stay in bed till sunset
when the weather gets too cold
i grow old, i grow old
i shall only wear my crumpled clothes
and look disdainfully at others
when they roll up their nose
i grow old, i grow old
i shall watch events unfold
and take a greater pleasure
in an elder statesman role.
i grow old, i grow old
i shall never play lawn bowls
and never will watch cricket
that's too boring for the soul.
i grow old, i grow old
but i shall never be so bold
as to admonish others
when my views they do not hold.
poem by David Keig
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The Garden
A Garden contemplation suits,
And may instruction yield,
Sweeter than all the flow'rs and fruits
With which the spot is filled.
Eden was Adam's dwelling place,
While blest with innocence;
But sin o'erwhelmed him with disgrace,
And drove the rebel thence.
Oft as the garden-walk we tread,
We should bemoan his fall;
The trespass of our legal head
In ruin plunged us all.
The garden of Gethsemane,
The second Adam saw,
Oppressed with woe, to set us free
From the avenging law.
How stupid we, who can forget,
With gardens in our sight,
His agonies and bloody sweat,
In that tremendous night.
His church as a fair garden stands,
Which walls of love enclose;
Each tree is planted by his hand,
And by his blessing grows.
Believing hearts are gardens too,
For grace has sown its seeds;
Where once, by nature, nothing grew
But thorns and worthless weeds.
Such themes to those who Jesus love,
May constant joys afford;
And make a barren desert prove
The garden of the Lord.
poem by John Newton
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Seek not the gardener in the flesh
Two maidens walk throughout the forest unknown
Darkened shadows gloom and each fights off
The demons of her insecurities, they stumble across
What seems like naught less than a garden, for all of
The flowers grow in rows creating the impression of design.
One of the maidens claimed that no gardener would come this
Far into the unknown just to create a garden of such wonders.
The other could not comprehend that such a beauty could of
Come across within a conscious will for it’s existence pure.
They each argued in turn and learnt
From each nothing more than the cementation
Of opinion in ignorance towards the other
Yet they agree to test in empirical measures
What force treasures this Garden of wonder.
So they waited and they waited so patiently,
For they had set up fences, and awaiting defenceless they saw nothing.
They heard nothing but the wind as it carried
Upon its song the seeds of springfull joy,
Still the flowers continued to bloom
But no gardener appeared in the form
The un believer was willing to accept.
She that sees the garden knows true the beauty of her surroundings
She knows that it does not need to be measured
For it is a treasure as it is a pleasure in itself,
Yet still her companion points to the weeds that grow,
She point to the dying trees burnt as embers glow.
She can not listen as her friend explains that each is a cycle within the
Medicine wheel, each weed is as worthy of our praise as are the flowers
That catch and dance in Apollo’s radiance.
As the seasons turn we learn
As we grow every second
We are making anew the mould,
Before the kiln of silence awaits.
Seek not the gardener in the flesh
But know that it is he who breathes fresh breathe anew
Into every living being
The gardener unseen is as real as the emotions within which we swim.
poem by David Lacey
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