On The Pot Of Hypocrisy
there is a plant there,
lots of green leaves
concealing the color of its twigs
and hungry always
for the sun's attention
there are no flowers or
fruits
it has no power to bear
what it should have given
like the rest
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Trimming The Trees, Pruning The Twigs....
on the tree of life
there will be more leaves
and twigs and flowers
on spring
and more luscious fruits
for eating
there is somehow a
need for trimming
what excesses are there
twigs that go awry
leaves that lush for too much
shade
and so we do just that
cut some twigs
take a look and cut some
more
remove some leaves
for sacrifices
for us to some more
and some time
see heaven for once.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What is the color of love?
What is the color of love?
I'll paint it with RED.
Do you ask me why? Because.....
Red roses are the symbol of love,
Red sunrises are the symbol of life.
What is the color of love?
I think I'll paint it with ORANGE.
I'll give it to you by the segments.
It looks so naive but....
You have to believe.
What is the color of love?
And now I'll paint it with YELLOW.
It's the sunshine of the bright day.
It's the color of flowers in spring.
What is the color of love?
I'll better paint it with GREEN.
'Green grass of home...',
Green leaves, green piece...
What is the color of love?
I think I'll paint it with BLUE.
It's the color of the sky,
It's the color of freedom,
It's the color of seas and oceans
It's the color of the devotions.
What is the color of love?
It is sometimes dark blue
When the ocean is angry
When someone's love is not true.
What is the color of love?
May be it is VIOLETTE?
Don't try to guess
As I'd like here to confess:
It's a RAINBOW!
Larisa R(Odessa, Ukraine)
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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My Rainbow Garden
I have a Rainbow Garden
For inside of it you’ll see
Every color you would find
What a rainbow ought to be
The blue is for Forget-me-knots
Yellow for Daffodils
Red is for my gladiolas
My flowers are such a thrill
Green creates the many leaves
Of my Rainbow Garden too
I get such peacefulness
I would love to show it to you
My roses, oh I have many
My palette of color shades
I must enjoy them daily
For the time for them will fade
So if you’re feeling weary
And you don’t know what to do
Plant flowers of all colors
And have a Rainbow Garden too!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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[My Little Green Plant]
I have a plant in my house.
Not a tree a shrub ore a shrew.
But a plant.
It's green and red and sparkle blue.
Healthy clean and sticky like glue.
Bold beautifully and fragrant to.
My little green plant, how I love you.
I love my plant all stretched out high.
When it's flowers open it reveals a surprise
Just imagine it as you close you're eyes.
My little green plant, always on my mind.
My plant is thirsty it needs special care.
Nutrients and light, without it would die.
Like a child growing up ill always be there.
12 weeks to grow, and not a care.
3 feed tall and producing air.
My little green plant with little red hairs.
The time has come that I must say good by,
my little green plant has grown up right.
I'll trim it nice and hold on tight,
my little green plant makes me happiest tonight.
I'll sow the seed and sign the deed,
my little green plants one hell of a weed.
Come on now people get your minds out of the gutter..... I'm just talking about sage! :)
poem by Seth Morrow
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Angiosperms
The dinosaurs of early Cretaceous
flashed color, pattern, sheen....yet
conifers, cycads and ferns layered
green on green on green....until
some nonconforming cone
with aspects shrunk or overblown,
‘bloomed' as something hitherto unknown,
an audacious rudimentary flower.
But this little mutant
was a portent of power.
Newfangled capacious leaves
packed more water-pumping veins.
Trees fed scented fruits and flowers
from sweet self-composting potpourris.
Ancestral figs, magnolias, planes,
coevolving birds, tiny mammals, bees,
all entangled in mutual gain.
Think the dinosaurs rapacious?
the flowering plants rampaged hellacious.
By late Cretaceous, Earth was awash
with ostentatious color.
And today, in New Caledonia,
fragment of old Gondwana,
cloud forests hide a pioneer shrub,
Amborella trichopoda.
Minute pale ceraceous flowers,
tepals in place of petals and sepals,
primordial and tenacious.
Outcast from a forging split,
clue to Darwin's vast mystery.
A glimpse of one vivacious spring,
unsurpassed Cretaceous Spring.
poem by Diane Hine
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The red rose flower, asked god
The red rose flower
Asked god
You have given me
Beautiful look
Sweet fragrance
Eye catching color
Everybody likes me
However,
Why have you given?
Thorns to my plant
God replied
No one gets every thing
He wants
Even all my children
Are not nice
I gave thorns to
Your plant
To protect you from
Careless hands
You should be contented
With what you have
Always bear in mind
Other flowers on the earth
Do not have
Even half the qualities
You have
02-03-2012
280-15-03-12
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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Her Eye Colors
spring
lush foliage
buds of flowers
tiny leaves
sprouting from the
twigs
in Hongkong
where there is no
space for gardens
she draws spring
in the colors
of her eyes
shades of green
and pink and
red and
blue for the flowers
the clouds
the horizon
the sun
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Joyous Morning
you walk in the garden
and you find that the
seed that you have
planted has become
a tree, and today
you can see
it is bearing so many fruits
its twigs are like
hands wearing
jewelries studied
with diamonds
glittering at night
it is not for you
as it will always be for
all of them
they shall pick those fruits and
relish the sweetest taste of life.
you smile and then
you walk away
to plant another tree.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Silence Shall Be
i find this in the forest of trees
long trees, shady, such that what you can see
are only shadows of leaves
and what you hear is only the sound of the wind
choked between tight walls,
this is my silence,
moist, and soft, between a growth of wild
ferns
rotten leaves heaps and heaps of
rotten leaves
layer after layer of rotten leaves
thick and pushed still to the roots
smashed to the ground
some seeds from the oaks
or maybe from the flowers of the orchids
or some sweet fruits and red berries fall
in there
and they begin to grow
rich as humus is this soil down
the darkness of this forest,
this is my silence
deep inside me
moist, rotten, but soon
lots shall grow
seeds turning into sprouts
to trees again
perhaps taller than ever
some fruits so sweet and colored and shiny
some flowers scented and so lovely,
this my silence
shall be, i am keeping it for years
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Like A Mango Tree
like a mango tree bearing so many fruits
this month of May
the unruly children gather around
with stones and sticks
and beat each branch
and both the young and
mature fruits fall
without a careful
segregation
what a waste!
the moral lesson is:
do not be too fruitful, just be leaves and twigs.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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84
my silence shall be
i find this in the forest of trees
long trees, shady, such that what you can see
are only shadows of leaves
and what you hear is only the sound of the wind
choked between tight walls,
this is my silence,
moist, and soft, between a growth of wild
ferns
rotten leaves heaps and heaps of
rotten leaves
layer after layer of rotten leaves
thick and pushed still to the roots
smashed to the ground
some seeds from the oaks
or maybe from the flowers of the orchids
or some sweet fruits and red berries fall
in there
and they begin to grow
rich as humus is this soil down
the darkness of this forest,
this is my silence
deep inside me
moist, rotten, but soon
lots shall grow
seeds turning into sprouts
to trees again
perhaps taller than ever
some fruits so sweet and colored and shiny
some flowers scented and so lovely,
this my silence
shall be, i am keeping it for years
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Stone Garden
in the middle of this
garden there are two rocks
one is smaller
around them are
pebbles and some scattered sands
what you plant here is
the seed of silence
tomorrow when you come back
you shall know what are its fruits
its leaves are not green and its
roots are for your liking
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Those With Fruits And Leaves
what then is the purpose
about those who have no leaves
or fruits
those bald ones
those dried twigs
brown leaves
and broken stones?
they are part of the choirs
of nature
each has a gap to fill
a place to rot
to shine
to hit and awaken.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Color Me
I wish that they would color me
The color of the rose
The color of the spring
Or the color of the snow.
If again they’d color me
The color that I would be
Would be the color I could see
As long as I am free.
As I wish that they would color me
The color of the trees
Or the color of the leaves
And then that color I would be.
I wish that I was a rainbow
With the many colors of the sky
Or the single color of a star
Shimmering in the night.
And if again they would color me
The color that I would be
Would be the color that is me
Is the color that I could see.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Only Leaves!
Will there be fruits without flowers?
Will there be flowers without leaves?
But in my garden only leaves grow
Without flowers and fruits ever!
Selfish growth will mar healthy society!
It will be like westward rush for gold
Where everyone fights with gun to kill
One another along with joy and fun ever!
Competition sans cooperation kills joy!
Animal lust cannot sustain divine love
Making joy bloom as flowers in garden
To make joy rule life forever in bliss!
Life sans good company as desert sans oasis is
Stock piling of wealth sans none to share joy!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Nature's Favorite Color
The green foliage is an attractive sight
On the vast landscape on a clear summer day,
As the white daisies gradually unfold along the side
Of a winding roadway that is somber and gray.
It is a picturesque view that one will readily admit,
Blesses the color of green to the greatest height,
And yet it is a scene that enlightens one's mind
With euphoria and great pleasure and delight.
It is not the beauty of the unfolding rose,
Nor the mellow sunflowers near the old mill,
But the color green - Nature's matchless green
On the highlands that gives one a welcomed thrill.
It is beholding of the color of green,
On the growth of leaves on a swaying tree,
And on the landscape far and wide indeed,
As green is Nature's favorite color for all to see.
.
poem by Joseph T. Renaldi
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For Yani
i see the seed inside you
and day by day it grows
into a tree both with flowers
and fruits and soon the birds
shall find your branches and
shall make nests on your twigs
and soon there will be eggs
and fledglings and soon
there will be children climbing
your treetops
and laughing and playing
under your shade
there will be travelers taking
rest on your roots placing
their spines against your trunk
only if you keep on writing
for art's sake, for yourself.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Red sun, black air, tiny lights of the city
Red glowing sun, fire, flames, hot spittles
To the tiny lights of the city, this city of sin,
Black air that we breathe, smoke rising from
Our hair, warmth from our armpits, sighs and
Quivers, the longings that never stop, and the
Rain that fall heavily today, our thirsts still
Thirsting, our hungers still hungry, our instincts
For destruction coming out from our throats and
Hands, we can do more than what Is expected
We break some twigs, we pluck some flowers
We never thought about the problem of how
To reconnect twigs and flowers and scents
God creates, and we are so hardheaded
Ours is always to destroy and then leave.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Bein Green
Its not easy bein green
Having to spend each day the color of the leaves
When I think it could be nicer bein red or yellow or gold
Or something much more colorful like that
Its not easy bein green
It seems you blend in with so many other ordinary things
And people tend to pass you over
cause youre not standing out like flashy sparkles
On the water or stars in the sky
But green is the color of spring
And green can be cool and friendly like
And green can be big like an ocean
Or important like a mountain or tall like a tree
When green is all there is to be
It could make you wonder why
But why wonder, why wonder?
I am green and itll do fine, its beautiful
And I think its what I want to be
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bear ‘today’ for ‘tomorrow’.
Dear Plant, bear with the caterpillar,
Who is, of your tender leaves, the eater.
He will come to you as a butterfly later,
To impregnate your blossomed flowers.
Men are caterpillars;
Men are butterflies too.
12.05.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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