Calvin Campbell
Ye who are kicking against Fate,
Tell me how it is that on this hill-side,
Running down to the river,
Which fronts the sun and the south-wind,
This plant draws from the air and soil
Poison and becomes poison ivy?
And this plant draws from the same air and soil
Sweet elixirs and colors and becomes arbutus?
And both flourish?
You may blame Spoon River for what it is,
But whom do you blame for the will in you
That feeds itself and makes you dock-weed,
Jimpson, dandelion or mullen
And which can never use any soil or air
So as to make you jessamine or wistaria?
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
This Side Of The River
There's no happiness this side
The river is without a tide
The soil unfertile for seed
Here grows nothing but weed.
Behold the river's other side
Soil is rich so is tide
Spreads out mile after mile
Lands rich and fertile.
I wish I were on that side
This is not the place to reside
There I could get good harvest
There I could build a happy nest.
The man on the river's other side
Finds his river without tide
Finds everything there vile
The land barren unfertile!
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
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Sonnet: Why Blame?
Why blame the eagle for its swoop on mice?
Why blame the tiger for hunting its prey?
Why blame the drug-peddler for playing dice?
Why blame the donkey when it can but bray?
Why blame the wind that makes the branches sway?
Why blame the snake for its poison-fangs?
Why blame the sun for a hot summer’s day?
Why blame the police for the thieving gangs?
Why blame the night for being dark and cold?
Why blame the devils when they will tempt man?
Why blame our fate when we are getting old?
Why blame the Maker for how Man began?
Why blame the circumstances for our sins?
Why blame the tongue, whenever our words mince?
7-30-2002
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Soil Is A Soul Of Life
Soil what is soil Lord?
soil is life seed
soil is a living organism
soil is a loom
from which you were made
dust you were dust you will be
Soil what is soil Scientist?
soil is a critical
part
of an ecosystem
soil provides
important nutrients
for plants in
an ecosystem
soil helps
anchor
plants
to keep
plants
in place
soil absorbs
holds water
for plants
soil absorbs
holds water
for animals
lakes rivers
to use
soil provides
a home
for many species
lots of living
organisms
soil
regenerates life
dust you were dust you will be
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Poison! Poison!
Poison I breathe, poison I eat,
And poison poison I do drink,
Poison are my thoughts, poison are my acts,
Poison are my sleeps, poison are my dreams,
My blood is poison, poison is my flesh,
And poison poison are my bones.
Wherever I move
I envenom my fellow beings,
And enlarge my kingdom,
This is how my life goes on,
Living in the world: all poison poison.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Orchid And Orange II
Here, south of the Yangzi, grows a red orangetree.
All winter long its leaves are green,
Not because of a warmer soil,
But because its' nature is used to the cold.
Though it might serve your honourable guests,
You leave it here, far below mountain and river.
Circumstance governs destiny.
Cause and effect are an infinite cycle.
You plant your peach-trees and your plums,
You forget the shade from this other tree.
poem by Zhang Jiuling
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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You will die but the carbon will not; its career does not end with you. It will return to the soil, and there a plant may take it up again in time, sending it once more on a cycle of plant and animal life.
quote by Jacob Bronowski
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Rose-plant
A plant bore roses ten in number all,
And two got nipped when young by Nature’s way;
One blossomed to adorn God’s celestial throne;
Six bloomed becoming beauteous flowers big,
To put forth seed that fell on fertile soil,
That grew into rose-plants like their parents.
One still remains a flower big on mother-plant:
Weathered a bit, perfuming her landscape;
She yearned but could not turn into a seed!
Nevertheless, she bowed to Divine Will.
The soil was good in which the rose-plant grew,
Watered by rain and bathed by sun for years;
God’s grace and mercy nurtured her growth-curve;
Life’s storms and strife could not up-root the plant.
The mother-plant is very old in age;
Her life-partner left years back to God’s Home;
She lives by sheer will-pow’r, amidst her own,
And thanks the Maker for blessing her life;
God’s plans and ways are strange and mysterious;
Yet, earthlings must abide by Will Divine;
God gives us freedom to decide and act;
But Heaven must remain our goal always.
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Passion Wine Heritage Inspired
soil grape vineyard
starlight
golden nectar
ambrosia
mountain wind
river valley
salient light
earth sky firmament
soil nutrients
soil soul embodiment
soil fingertips
blood flow wine
hunger allure
siren vine original
soil dry
struggle character
define vine
soul
essence
hungry
insight
instinct
awareness
hardship
struggle
enlightenment
nose smell aroma
colour clarity texture
elixir extraordinaire
taste palate tongue
roof inspires trace oak
season aged barrel
cooper creation artist
wooden ribs melody effect
fabric harmony stir ferment
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Soil Dry Define Vine
soil nutrients
soil soul embodiment
soil fingertips
blood flow wine
hunger allure
siren vine original
soil dry
struggle character
define vine
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Son Of The Soil
Black, strong tatooed by the sun.
He toils and never tires.
He is the son of the soil.
Forget all these fake wana be's! You see today
wanting to be everything they see on tv.
he is the Son of the soil, raised up in the language of the ancetrals.
Taught to hunter and respect the traditions.
Raised up in the secret sacred things of the land.
Spilt his blood in the soil at the riverside at the age of 13.
He knew where his destiny lay at the age of 16.
Had his first encounter at 18.
She was a true daughter of the soil breed well by the women of the land.
Son of the soil taught by the elders the ways of women.
Son of the soil, taught by nature the way to survive.
Son of the soil, taught to endure by the woman he shares his purity with.
Son of the soil,
arise and toil for your destiny calls.
Toil to protect the weak,
to safeguard the rites,
to up root all menace and vallians from the west.
Son of the soil its your time to stand and be heard.
poem by Tigana Chileshe
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Old Folks At Home / Ol' Man River
Ol' man river
That ol' man river
He must say something (he don't know nothin')
But he don't say nothing
That ol' man river
He just keeps rollin' along
He don't plant taters
He don't plant cotton
And them that plants 'em
Are soon forgotten
That ol' man river
He just keeps rolling along
That ol' man river
He just keeps rolling along
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Archibald Higbie
I loathed you, Spoon River. I tried to rise above you,
I was ashamed of you. I despised you
As the place of my nativity.
And there in Rome, among the artists,
Speaking Italian, speaking French,
I seemed to myself at times to be free
Of every trace of my origin.
I seemed to be reaching the heights of art
And to breathe the air that the masters breathed,
And to see the world with their eyes.
But still they'd pass my work and say:
"What are you driving at, my friend?
Sometimes the face looks like Apollo's
At others it has a trace of Lincoln's."
There was no culture, you know, in Spoon River,
And I burned with shame and held my peace.
And what could I do, all covered over
And weighted down with western soil,
Except aspire, and pray for another
Birth in the world, with all of Spoon River
Rooted out of my soul?
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ol Man River
(oscar hammerstein ii and jerome kern)
Old man river, that old man river,
He dont say nothin, but he must know somethin
That old man river, he just keeps rolling along.
He dont plant taters,
And we all know he dont pick cotton.
But them that plant em, are soon forgotten, that
Old man river, he just keeps rolling along, oh yes he does.
You and me, we sweat and toil,
Our bodies all achin and racked with pain, now listen!
Lift that bar, youd better, tote that bail,
And if ya get a little drunk,
Youll land in jail.
Im so weary, and sick of tryin,
Im tired of livin, but afraid of dyin.
That, that god-darn old river, he just keeps rolling along.
Keep on rollin along.
Keep on rollin along.
Old man river dont you stop your way.
Keep on runnin from the north, the south, the east or west,
You gotta roll it ...
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Don’t be an uprooted Tree
Seed is sown and the embryo is formed
Legitimate or not, radicle develops into root
Root penetrates into the surface of the soil
Absorbs water and food, turns seed into plant
Inherits the culture of the earth beneath.
It’s in root science that, it moves in
Right direction to fetch the exact need.
Stem gives the support and balance to stand
Branches form the vitality of the plant
Leaves prepare the food to survive
Bearing even odds the plant grows into tree.
As long as deep roots embraces mother earth
The tree shows confidence and attracts.
Location and depth are the might of the tree
Flower, fruit, shade, firm soil, H2O and CO2
Vary from tree to tree, but all owe to root
Never there is an existence beyond this means.
Still human trees surrender under the pressures
Try to get uprooted from the surface and means
Hoping for better flower, fruit, soil and breeze
Truth is, an uprooted tree, a timber, put to ablaze.
-vidi-
22-04-08
poem by Vidi Writes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Soil's Tears
The soil knows the burden of tears
The earth’s sadness that it bears
Through endless battles for territory -
Only the soil knows it has no boundary!
Blood spills on it, falls toil’s sweat,
Muscle’s ravage decides the weak’s fate
Cries of desperation and victory’s cheers
All these the soil tearfully bears!
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Man - A Macrocosm Of Nature's Intelligence
this hair
on its own
is no life
this stone
solitary
on the floor
is no life
the air on
the wind
is no life
let it steal
into the man
and the plant
a whole world
starts to churn
and soil with
the stone too
start becoming life
into the plant
into the man
the sun on
its own is no life
take him out
everything
stops to glow
the tree, man and
sun, stone....
this hair
on its own
is dead
throw in the man
throw in the plant
and the air
and the sun
and the stone
everything
starts
to grow
nature seeps,
breathes
through each
and everything
jigsaw puzzle
the man himself
a macrocosm
of its intelligence
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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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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Limbo Leaf
Mr.Leaf, Lays still on the
Misty Soil has
A story to narrate
A song to sing
A poem to recite
Of the plants, of the trees
Of the herbs and
Of the shrubs...
Mr.Leaf began...
Past went apart; Leaving me alone
Present presented tears; For me to wipe out
Future away from nature; To turn me to a corpse
Tear droplets sat on leaf
Which appeared alike dewdrops
The half dead leaf sheds tears
Yes! A pinch of life
Stays awake
In this pale & yellow leaf
Striving to say more
Mr.Leaf realised: -
Time to leave the plant
Time to accompany the land
Time to dissolve in the soil
It flew away
With the rythm of the wind
Dancing & dazzling
To the blacky-rocky land
There it lies cold & still
Waiting to be vanished
Down the soil pores.
poem by Mariya M. Jos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Why Blame...
Why blame the state of things around
For what they are, and how they are?
Each one must take the blame sans sound
For freedom’s misuse, use unfair!
Why blame a group that’s money-mad
For being so, when most are bad?
All hearts have loved money from birth,
And dreamt that it does give all mirth!
Why blame the air and water, soil,
For our ill-health, and lazy toil?
If each one did his duties well,
Our land need not be lust like hell!
Why blame others for faults our own,
And misdemeanour that’s self-grown?
Each rotten fruit can spoil the rest
However good, even the best!
Why blame the leaders for mis-rule,
When voter stays an instant fool?
The empowered must know limits,
And do just things the land befits!
Why blame the creeds and people’s mix
For landing us in queer a fix?
Nothing on earth can stay all pure,
Like diseases defying cure!
Why blame fair God for what we are
And seething problems, we can’t bear?
The power given to a few
Has rained on all as poison-dew!
Why blame and play a ‘blaming-game’,
When all must bow their heads in shame?
The freedom got through blood and sweat
Eludes the common masses, yet!
Why people have not become wise,
And blame others for each one’s vice?
Let patriotism and thought
Remain for land, brethren in heart!
When hearts and minds have gone corrupt,
Selfishness stays, progress disrupts;
When love for fellow-men stays high,
Then, freedom’s sense and truth can’t die!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 15-9-11
poem by John Celes
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Untitled
Under the chest ribs
Lies a lump of meat
A heap, betel shaped,
Do you want to eat?
Bring a sharp knife, quick,
Stab, repeatedly and be swift,
And out of it, make a good feast.
Soil upon soil
Again on them soil
Makes a good mound
Through it runs blood
Seven litres pure or more
Do you want to suck?
From a safe distance
Throw a Tomahawk
To make a perfect hole
Suck with full content
When Blood will spill.
poem by Abdul Wahab
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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