Prose Poetics - 14
Of late
A sense of Green
Imparted
And the corporation here
Started planting trees
Watering in its possible hours.
But a fully loaded garbage cart
Unable to load any more
Heaps the waste
Next to the new plants
Just to set fire
The plants die
In routine scenario
Where and when hath He said
'Ye shall remain with offenders? '
No, let Him take back the bad destiny
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Green And Red
Colors we love and make
Most prominent are
Green and Red
Since we are made from
the green of plants
filled with chlorophill
and we made
Of haemomoglobin
Deriving from fruits
Nuts and grains of plants
And the birds and animals
Who eat them, we cannot
Survive without the green
In this blue planet
Full of trees, plants and grass
To end up in them
Through the soil
Which feeds all colors
So dear to eyes and brains.
Ravikiran Arakkal
poem by Ravikiran Arakkal
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Trees and Plants
Plants and trees
So green so green
The kitchen is the leaf
And the root is the chief
They give us flowers to decorate
And also to celebrate
They give us paper from their wood
And they are found in the woods
With their help we can make whatever we want
From a rubberband to a pant
We don't need to pay tax or fees
To borrow from our lovely trees
They protect us from diseases
That would make us ill
All the carbondioxide
They always take in
Some people cut trees
For things like table and chair
Not knowing what pollution
They are doing to the air
Forests are turning from green to brown
Animals' faces are always with a frown
So let's make this place from brown to green
By planting more saplings and trees
poem by Deepika Ganesh
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The Majestic Tree
They bow to the winds that pass
The beautiful majestic trees,
With arms up toward the skies
They laugh in the summer breeze.
They provide shade and shelter for the bee,
He plants history, who plants a tree.
They provide lumber for houses, and barns
For a roof to cover our heads,
Lumber for aeroplanes, ships and cars
And for caskets, to bury our dead.
This is only a few uses you see
He plants history, who plants a tree.
They provide rest for the weary man
Food and protection, for many wild things,
Home and sanctuary, for millions of birds
And rock their babies to sleep in swings.
Their magestic grace so wild and free
He plants history, who plants a tree.
poem by Della Hodgson James
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When plants die
A recent poem by Chumfo asked
“Where do plants go when they die?
I’m not sure what to answer
But this is my reply:
Plants go where old dogs go
Where fields of greenery lie
Plants wake up in enchanted mist
that’s where they go when they die
Where there’s ol dogs and children
And lot’s of fertilizer… to boot
fresh spring rains…Deep dark loam
And potting soil to take root
Where there’s no Jolly Green Giant
No blight and no aphids too
Just the sun… the rain…the bird’s refrain
And a lot of good cow poo
poem by David Whalen
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Beauty....... of what?
The earth wait's the sky drizzles
Seasons come and seasons go
With the smell of weather
The farmer chooses to decorate his farm
A farmer believes every leaf
Of the plant as its own
At every point protects and nurtures
The plants every leaf
The farmer that stood by
That plants every need and move
The plants have no respect for him
The farmer doesn't even find out
Who caste the evil eye
But all that's left is his ruined farm of hope
What was ones a living green
Is now nothing but flying sand?
What did I plant and what did I get?
What did I plant and what did it become?
Wonders the helpless farmer
Even when crying on the inside
Smiles just for its plants
A farmer believes every leaf
Of the plant as its own
At every point protects the plants every leaf
What did I want and what did I get?
Is all the farmer could think
poem by Kiara Davar
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Become Food!
your hand on the wheel,
Mayan bolt nonwithstanding...
where do we go from here?
my fingernails still dirty,
from digging and planting the seeds.
your eyes cloud over...
the promise of rain?
another chapter finished,
boots laced, and my hat,
your smile, a cup of coffee...
the dog waits at the door.
the mailman passes without slowing down.
the world keeps turning,
from dawn to setting sun.
and seeds become plants...
plants become food!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Merciful God
He was a dreaded, notorious thief
Once in panic, went to the God's door-step
God was out in the garden site
watering the plants with a hose-pipeline.
The thief came running and fell at His feet
confessing his sins and wept at length
begging for his mercy and to make him refined
on his return, he promised to live as a saint.
But, God was hesitant and returned to His room
to consult his PC on the truth of his claim
The thief was alone watering the rest of the plants
hopefully waiting to win his merciful grants.
There in the third row, there was a dense orchard
all the leaves were 500 currency rupee notes
but he could not resist his age-old temper
tampered the leaves at will and kept on to plunder
God reappeared on the porch and waved him to His close
'YOU ARE FORGIVEN - GO AND LIVE IN PEACE..
LEAVE YOUR CLOTHES HERE AND PUT ON NEW ONES
AS A SIGN OF YOUR REDEMPTION FROM ALL YOUR SINS'
The thief was shocked and took to his heels
without thanking God, as the thief was in haste
Shouted back at God …..
' YOU ARE ANYWAY MERCIFUL AND GOOD…
I SHALL COME BACK AGAIN ONCE THE MONEY IS SPENT
ONE MORE SIN, …...I WISH...YOU WOULD NOT MIND INDEED…
-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-
poem by Santhana Louis
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Green Planet
Green Planet
By Lori Triggs
Copyrighted July 17 2008
At one time our planet was colorful as lush with plants even flowers
And towering trees beautiful I can see,
The planet was filled with animals even birds more species that was plentiful
While the mammals and fish filled the oceans even waters majestic,
The oceans with lakes even rivers as the waters where aqua or
Torques blue lovely green was a fantasy.
Now our planet is filled with tons trash on the streets even
At the garbage dumps filled to the top to no end,
The planet not colorful or lush with plants even flowers
And towering trees it becoming a waste land of dirt and mud,
Even homes plus businesses filled with humans to see
The animals even birds is getting scarce means no food or wildlife,
While the mammals and fish are finding up dead in the waters
Or land means no food or sea life.
The oceans with lakes even rivers as the waters are brown,
Or nasty green will be unsafe to drink this is not a fantasy.
We should help the planet even ourselves by recycling
bottles, paper, cardboard, cans even glass in recycling centers,
Make green homes by using reused materials granite, tiles, wood,
Bottles, paper, cardboard, cans even glass solar tubes, & solar energy
Plus solar water, everything energy officiant,
The cars we use should be hydrogen, solar, electric or hybrid
So go green not brown if we keep what we are doing we are all dead!
poem by Lori Triggs
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Time To Turn Over A New Leaf
The Plant Kingdom isn't all sweetness and light.
Some plants digest animal life
And destroy buildings and spread diseases.
However, these Godmade creatures
Have their place in the Universe
And deserve to be protected.
That's why trees are continually planted
To replace the ones we use.
Plant a Tree is part of our culture.
It isn't some politically correct philosophy,
It's an essential revitalisation of Nature.
We breathe out carbon dioxide
Which the plants absorb and exhale oxygen.
We act in symbiosis.
We exist by the Grace of God,
The Creator of all things.
Plants can't create us with our fantastic thoughts
And developments as we ourselves
Live and die and are replaced by our offspring.
Plants remain at their peak
As if no further developments are required.
I do not see any plant as superior to me.
I never will. Even when buried,
I await a resurrection promise to be fulfilled.
I will live again. I will walk upon the land once more.
This promise is not extended to plants
That they will live forever.
I see plants as living creatures full of wonder.
A humble microscope reveals
The tiny algae and their secrets.
The flowers are tended by Man,
Cultivated, nurtured like babes in the wood,
Fertilised orchids treated as preciously as diamonds.
Even the amateur gardener admires
The perfumed garden outside his home
And reflects upon his neighbours' gardens, too,
With a sense of community pride.
God Himself set Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden.
A Paradise on Earth, without blemish,
Without a briar or a thorn in sight.
It was Man and Woman who succumbed to temptation
And we abide now upon a fallen world.
We owe the plants no apology, no response at all.
We need not talk to the trees or the lilies of the field.
We need to make our peace with our Patriarch,
Our Heavenly Father. We need the Saviour.
We need to turn over a new leaf.
We need to drink the rivers of Heaven.
We need the outpouring of Cosmic sunshine, Celestial love.
Only then, can we have eternal souls and spirits
That blossom like the rose...
As it is written in the NEW TE-STAMEN-T...
poem by Denis Martindale
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The House Plants
the plants, they are your friends
especially the ones in your room
if you are sensitive to their feelings
you will know they are there trying
to reach out to you all the time
when it quiets down
the television not playing
and the children not prancing around
you would feel another kind
trying to communicate with you
their invisible hands would even
try awaken that faculty in you you
could use to communicate with them
the plants know, we were all once
relatives and they remember that part
in you which will still embrace them
even in the densest of forests
just take a look at the roses,
they can be man's closest friends,
better than the dogs
they slow down their evolution just so that
they can help man express
their love with more charms
men are yang and plants ying
when the two embrace
productivity starts to grow
men breathe out to give the plants
a life and plants breathe out too
to give men a life
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Parents (a poem to sing)
Owning lands
moist soil
farmers
vow to sow.
Spreading seeds
all over
for healthy plants
to grow.
Watering the saplings
fertilising
good
for the health of plants.
Pruning them
and then
amidst the Godly chants.
Buds blossom
into flowers
fragrance
spreading
to and fro.
Farmers happy
rejoice flowers
blessed by
HIS graceful show.
---x----
All rights reserved/Tribhawan Kaul
poem by Tribhawan Kaul
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Naturally Green
My mother always enjoyed
Picnics on lushes green grass
With trees to show
How green Mother Nature keeps
Her house of plants
Without green
There may be no greed
But it is that of the apple
That keeps us whole
Without care,
Green turns to brown.
With love,
Green grows strong.
When green turns to yellow
We go slow
So never let green
Turn red with envy
Or life may go
In a direction
You did not choose
poem by Scot Warren
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Plants
Plants, ants, ant, as, at, Pat, tap, sat, past, last;
More heights for you and, keep the flag of love flying high!
And like the muse of your peace in the land of beauty.
South Carolina,
21-point lead;
And like a voice from Africa! !
But with satire work in the name of the African struggle.
Plants, slants, pants, wants, chants, grants, giants, ants;
With starry skies to respect your love,
But, water the plants and let them grow.
Zion, lion, Orion, ion, union, attraction, station, nation, addition;
And another dead body was put into the silent grave,
But, i am what i am and, i remain as i am!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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A lazy man plants on a mad bark as an excuse for not planting.
Images At The Chestnut Tree
I went to the chestnut tree
stripped bare by winter, where my mother
was gardening with potted plants.
While watering them
there were many shadows
that the swinging branches made
which formed images
of ghostly spellbound things
in my imagining creeping near
and in this autumn of my years
the power of destiny
was playing on my greatest fears
as if making it clear
that my last summer was spent.
poem by Gert Strydom
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We dont need space
the trees and plants
micmic the voices
of long gone tourists
during this low season
as you sleep in a near
empty island resort,
in the dead of night
the entire garden is alive
with chuckling voices
of men, whomen and children
they set upon the mind
intermittently while you
come in and out of your dreamland
a world dying to have fun
who says plants cant speak
do we really need mouth to speak
here the trees and plants in
their separate place are
acting out a real play they
have acquired from the holiday makers
and make it a fun in a really quiet night
who says we need mouth
to speak, eyes to see,
in a dream, the whole world
has come to us right within
the four corners of our bed
who says we need space to live
one day we are going to live
out of nothngness, right out
of this clumsy frame that
tolls bell of pain and deception
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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My Plants Tell Them All
As I walk into the Sun,
See the faint silhouette image,
Bright shiny and colorful,
The properties like and unlike;
The rays emanating contained,
The nuisances too mirage,
Will it or won't it?
The matter stuck for life;
As my green plants show,
The shrunk and the wilt,
The browner, I wonder, how?
Not that they plan to cover,
The part or the whole of it.
Guess it, that we uncover,
The lest the matter stood,
In anticipation of a hood,
The sparks the blue and green,
My plants shall become sheen.
The birds may fly wither;
The veritas might just unfold,
The veracity might get a fold.
For the love of my plants,
I keep the sky open;
And they smile that lasts,
Clear as water, and no mean,
The words just flutter,
The conscience may clutter,
For the life not to butter,
Might the sky get a shutter?
Copyright © 2012 Sanjeev Kumar
poem by Sanjeev Kumar
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A Red Palm
You're in this dream of cotton plants.
You raise a hoe, swing, and the first weeds
Fall with a sigh. You take another step,
Chop, and the sigh comes again,
Until you yourself are breathing that way
With each step, a sigh that will follow you into town.
That's hours later. The sun is a red blister
Coming up in your palm. Your back is strong,
Young, not yet the broken chair
In an abandoned school of dry spiders.
Dust settles on your forehead, dirt
Smiles under each fingernail.
You chop, step, and by the end of the first row,
You can buy one splendid fish for wife
And three sons. Another row, another fish,
Until you have enough and move on to milk,
Bread, meat. Ten hours and the cupboards creak.
You can rest in the back yard under a tree.
Your hands twitch on your lap,
Not unlike the fish on a pier or the bottom
Of a boat. You drink iced tea. The minutes jerk
Like flies.
It's dusk, now night,
And the lights in your home are on.
That costs money, yellow light
In the kitchen. That's thirty steps,
You say to your hands,
Now shaped into binoculars.
You could raise them to your eyes:
You were a fool in school, now look at you.
You're a giant among cotton plants.
Now you see your oldest boy, also running.
Papa, he says, it's time to come in.
You pull him into your lap
And ask, What's forty times nine?
He knows as well as you, and you smile.
The wind makes peace with the trees,
The stars strike themselves in the dark.
You get up and walk with the sigh of cotton plants.
You go to sleep with a red sun on your palm,
The sore light you see when you first stir in bed.
The beauty of nature
She was called forth by His devine voice,
created by the power of His speech.
she's the beauty of His devine work,
peacefull and lovely filled with bliss.
her beauty holds perfection,
her joy knows no detention.
the softness of her voice is highly felt,
we are mesmerized by her pleasant scent.
trees growing at the river side,
bliss flowing at the viewer's mind.
waters flowing at the river banks,
quenching the thirst from the drinker's heart.
animal moving together at homes and wild,
birds flying, feeling the beauty of the sky.
plants growing preserving life,
people living preserving plants.
the beauty of nature cannot be fully introspected,
for the beauty of her mystery is fully perfected
by that devine hand who cared for us with love
there is no gift as nature,
for she's our rise and fall.
poem by Randy Micheal
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Tickets
The ticket was sold, in the soil of waters and roots,
Profiting from the sale of plants, a real awakening.
The gardeners travelled to a gathering so great,
Locomotion no problem, making progress against the weeds.
What are these plants? Plants give soil a trouble,
When do flowers reckon their demise?
The tickets have cancelled the talk of the nation,
Then the stages ended for the whole conversation.
poem by Naveed Akram
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