Related quotes: I do not know the...

I do not know the day
my pain will end yet
in the little garden
I had them plant
seeds of autumn flowers

tanka by Masaoki Shiki
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Thorn & A Wlid Rose

By d. toler, t. colton & b. waibel
He came from the streets, she came from the mountains
A faded star and an angel without wings,
Their passions flowed like a deep running river
They had nothing left to lose and everything to gain and he said
Lets make a garden said the thorn to the wild rose,
Plant some seeds deep in the ground,
Lets make a garden said the thorn to the wild rose,
Strong enough to hold us down
Seasons will change, well last forever well see the snow and the
Falling of the leaves
High on the hill with the sky all around us, well watch it grow
From two wild seeds
Lets make a garden said the thorn to the wild rose,
Plant some seeds deep in the ground,
Lets make a garden said the thorn to the wild rose,
Where its springtime all around
Solo
He came from the streets, she came from the mountains
A faded star and an angel without wings,
Their passions flowed like a deep running river
They had nothing left to lose and everything to gain and he said
Lets make a garden said the thorn to the wild rose,
Plant some seeds deep in the ground,
Lets make a garden said the thorn to the wild rose,
Where its springtime all around
Lets make a garden said the thorn to the wild rose,
Plant some seeds deep in the ground,
Lets make a garden said the thorn to the wild rose,
Where its springtime all around

song performed by by Allman Brothers Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Essence Of His Creativity

between the space
of your buttons
i plant my reincarnation seeds

in the bed of flowers
and estatic butterflies
i plant my reincarnation seeds

like god that manifests
himself in so many kinds
senses, i will go on living
taking life as it dawns

confident that he will
alllow me to taste the
essence of his creativity

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Child is one’s extension.

Roots and shoots are parts of a plant.
Leaves and flowers are their outgrowths.
Seeds are their fused extension.
Child, like seeds, is from you, not through you.

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Weed

There was an old woman
that planted a garden.
And in the garden
there grew a weed.
The weed grew next to
a beautiful flower.

The flower had grown
from a tiny seed.
The weed was strong
and would not bend.
The wind did blow
and it did send

the seeds from the flower
into the air.
They circled around
and landed where
the weed was growing
next to the flower.

Soon the weed was
surrounded by flowers.
It loved where it was
and looked by the hours
at all of the beautiful
colorful flowers.

The old woman who planted
the garden one day
decided that she would
make a bouquet.
She went to the garden
to cut the flowers.

But when she got there
down came the showers.
The raindrops that fell
made the weed shine
which made the old woman
change her mind.

She left them alone
in her garden and knew
that the weed belonged
with the flowers that grew.
She'd planted the flowers.
God planted the weed.

The garden was perfect.
No bouquet did she need.

poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tending the Garden

Grandmother dug into the earth saying
'men, family, children
are like tending to the garden.

First, you have to have good seed
and good dark earth.'

I used to help her tend the garden
on my Sunday visits-a patch in the
back of her house.

'Get a good fertilizer, find the right spot,
location matters in all this,
bad location
the family, the children, the wife, the men
don't do so good.

Plant the good seeds of decency.

Tell the truth, work hard,
don't get mean
and cynical,
love peace,
help your neighbor.
Simple, really.

Then you find what each plant needs.
Some like a lot of light
some like shade,
then afternoon or morning light,

Each is different.

And have to take the time
to find out what works for each.

And you water your damp ground
til that first little leaf comes up,
pokes up its little head
looking at the first light of its life
of its first day.

That feels good.

And then you water it,
let it know it is welcome in this world,
that someone cares.

And you tend to it.

Keep the weeds away,
the ants and the snails,
and big feet trampling
and it grows,
til you have your first bud
that flowers,
and the branches get sturdy,
and supports more and more of the buds,
and then the early flowers,
and then the full blossomings.

Pretty soon you have your garden,
and you teach your kids,
and your grandkids how to keep
it flowering;

like that
generation after generation.

Of course you need the Son,
the Father too
and the Holy Ghost
.

poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Days Like This...Remind Me Of You

It was a cool, July, and it was dusk.
The gentle winds that blew,
brushed the Autumn of your hair.

And a mist, as like in Autumn, touch
your face, as I stood still.

I could not help but wonder, as in Autumn,
are the bees yet in their hive? Snuggled
closely, in their Autumn winter bed.?

An Autumn sun, hid behind the clouds above.
It knew not of this July, only of Autumn, in the air.
It knew of flowers drooping, their brightness,
now fading and curled. It knew of falling leaves,
and colors still so bright. A lone tree against a colored
sky, seemed naked in this July. With all of
this, and some to go, it must be Autumn...Autumn...
Autumn, for this I know.

What of the woman, with the hair of Autumn?
Her eyes of Autumn color and colored clothes
the same. It can not be July for
Autumn is abound.

Autumns every where. Circling sparrows in sky
above, swoop down, in hunt, for the final seeds
of Autumn. How could this be July,
or has the sparrows lost their way?

Surely, this is Autumn, for the chill is in they air.
And, isn't that an Autumn grass, below that
old oak tree? As the gentle Autumn winds,
carry silence for the day.

Now the mist of Autumn, are falling drops of rain.
No, not a shower in July, but an Autumn day,
now cast in gloom, against a steel gray sky.

Autumn, shall never be the same, since
that Autumn day in mid July.

poem by Joe Fazio
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Only On This Day...

For: J.L.