Seed, Qou Vadis?
seed falling on the ground
brought by a night bird
wet by the rain of dusk
you have no choice
but to crack your hard covering
and then grow
some roots and leaves
in time's blessing
some flowers
then fruits
then the silence of the wilting
follows
to be back into a seed again
eaten by this night bird
and thrown back
to a distant soil
seed,
you must begin
your cycle again
for what choice do you have?
the night bird does not
even know
and the soil simply receives you
and the rain of the dusk
simply wets you
and they do not even know
what & why
they are doing all these
this is the cycle
of the seed of life
and wilting and death
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Lonely Reminder...
because i am a seed
i sprout
i make the bud
and then
i flower facing the
sun
i grow and
i reach the apex
of time and i
know what follows
next is
the wilting of
my flowers
the rotting of
my roots
until i am gone
i know
i shall be back again
into nothing
the seed in me comes
again
i know
i know.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Bored Apple Seed............[Humor, i hope]
While sitting in our screen house I spit out one apple seed.
You'd think it would be grateful since from my mouth it had been freed.
But no, you ungrateful seed. Instead you turned and looked at me,
a frown upon your face, indeed!
You landed upon a white-painted floor plank, a few feet from the ground.
From there you saw trees and grass and bushes all around.
Perhaps you wished you had feet so you could find a spot, to sprout your stuff
instead of sitting idle, a seed without a pot.
[Or maybe you spied my bird feeders, stocked with sunflower and nyjer seed.
To them the titmice and chickadees, and goldfinches come to feed.
Could you possibly wish, if you could not sprout, to be eaten by a bird,
and vanish until the bird poops you out? ]
Where you landed it does not get wet, so you cannot reach the soil.
You look now so unhappy; I think your apple anger is about to boil.
I suppose the least I could do is give you a big kick, and knock
you off the flooring, onto fertile ground to grow into a stick.
[But I DIDN'T and now another week's gone by.]
I'm back, my little apple seed, and as I settle into my chair,
I notice a marked change in your appearance that last week wasn't there.
You no longer frown nor even look at me, sadness and anger are no longer shown,
but instead you're just a bored apple seed, like many other seeds I have known.
(Nov.2012)
poem by Bri Edwards
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The Seed
A seed
A bird had swallowed
While in fruit,
Had fallen in some rocky land
As Bird-droppings,
And sprouted into
A lovely tree,
With massive trunk
And boughs with verdant leaves,
And luscious fruits
As birds built nests
And wayfarers had shade from scorching sun!
A seed
A farmer sowed
In fertile land,
Ploughed by oxen
And sweat of brow
’neath scorching sun,
Did sprout also:
But ceased to grow
And withered
As the rains had failed
That year!
Although in both the cases
Seeds seemed similar,
Why did the farmer’s toil
Didn’t fructify?
Perhaps,
The bird had gulped
The best of fruits with seed
That grew despite the rocky soil!
Perhaps, the farmer’s work
Remained by God
Unblessed!
Man’s selfishness
At times ruins his labor great!
The heart of man matters!
Each seed
That’s sowed on earth
Grows by Heaven’s decree!
poem by John Celes
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The Seed
The wind carried the seed
Into the air to who knows where
Across the weeds, floated the seed
Until to rest on the earth, which laid bare.
And then cried the seed upon the rise
Someday I, I will be a tree,
Liken my brothers, who will be like me
And I will grow to touch the sky.
The seed again journeyed upon the wind
Over the grass and wooded paths
Above the trees, cousins to him
Past the flowers who were his friends.
While he dreamed someday; he too would have many limbs.
The seed finally lighted upon the ground
From where he chose, so his mighty roots would grow
God will water me and give me light, he cried
He will also destroy my enemies and help me rise,
But then arrived a bird, who ate the seed.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Find a moments peace
To see the cycle,
one observes the rose,
whose roots suck on,
though all the petals fall,
nourishing seeds and death,
and then recall-
with purpose no philosophies
disclose.
Like man, from planted seed
the rose is born,
then thrusts about
for water, sun, and air,
essences which, before the rose,
were there,
but which it claims
with sharp and savage thorn.
It pricks against the world,
unknowing, blind,
even the vital bee
and scavenging ant,
set against all
except the mother plant,
indifferent to love
and to the cruel or kind.
The purpose of the rose
is only, then,
to grow and die,
and out of death to come
prepatterned cycle,
back to life again,
a pointless round,
from bloom to seed to bloom.
And yet, beyond the cycle,
gentle eyes
look at the rose
and find a moment's peace,
a dream of love
and kindliness, surcease
from hate and greed
and from the covering lies.
Savage and saveged,
with thorns no rose has grown,
man also breeds,
simply so he may die
for reasons which to him
are as unknown
as to the rose,
though he may wonder why-
Which gives one hope
within the encircling doubt
of purposes
one does not know about.
poem by Daniel Artemas Harmon
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Nightfall In The Rose-Garden
Ashes to ashes,
Meal to roots of roses:
One-way street in petals falling,
Dust to dust.
The lowering sun sucks
From blown blossoms,
Their colours that go
At last to dust.
Death is in the seed
Bud, root and leaf
Which have no choice
But dust.
From death to death,
The cycle onward blindly
Rolls its endless way
From dust to death.
I, in the falling dusk
Go slowly blind to all.
And shall too, eventually,
Be dust.
poem by Roy William Gotaas
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That Is Perhaps What Poetry Is All About
a seed thrown on the ground
beside a bush, it grows and you do not notice.
it is sad to say, neglect does not bother.
time is its ally, and it begins to feel its roots
and leaves.it dreams of fruits.
the seed is now a tree, and it summons children
to play, to climb its branches and to reap its fruits.
that is its only joy. To give.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Swallowing The Seed
swallowing the seed
fear begins to grow
the seed sprouts inside
his belly and roots begin
to travel inside his prostate
down to his bottom
unto his feet
immobilizing him
the seed begins to have
buds and leaves
and twigs and
huge trunks
his eyes shrink on the barks
his nose all gone
there are no signs of the original man
he swallowed the seed of life
that no one dared.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Soils
The soil was baked very hard and the seed bounced off
I would not listen to God and would only scoff
It was unreceptive and unrepentant ground
And no time or place for God's Word was to be found
Littered with many stones and exposing no ground
Full of crevasses but little soil was to be found
The seed fell into a crack germinating there
It grew quickly but shrivelled under the suns glare
Covered with weeds and leaving so very little soil
My life all mixed up and full of care and turmoil
The Word of God tried hard to germinate and grow
But the cares and worries of this world choked it so
The soil was prepared and I readily received
God's Word was spoken and as I heard and believed
It sprang up in my heart over many a year
And blossomed and bloomed as I saw the fruit appear
Based on the parable of the Sower (Matthew 13: 1-23)
Addictive
once you get
to writing poetry,
you become addicted
to the art,
you cannot stop
until you
pop out like
a bud into a
full blown flower
and you know
what is next,
the wilting and
falling but you know
what is next,
the hibernation
of the seed
the drying and
cracking
it is a cycle
but it is so beautiful!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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About Us Who Remained Here....
when first thrown away
they call it
seed,
there are rocky fields
where most of the seeds
struggle for soil
& water
to grow
buds and mature as
branches
or be successful trees
into forests,
so many have found themselves
as utter failures
in the form of sand
so many are dead, wilting even
before
leafing
there are others who evolve well
despite the harsh conditions
lucky for those who imagine wings
and turn into birds
of freedom
but others do not have that fate
the stars are against them
you have seen now
so many pebbles scattered on those
twisted paths
others of course have turned themselves
into stones
the mostly preferred state of being
strong
or mistaken to be stoic
into rocky formations ready to be
fields of cradles again for
those that come recently and
baptized with the same name
seed.
we who remain here
have learned to write about all these
sad phenomena
we have fortified ourselves as slates of rocks
with rain as pens.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Seeds A Star/tree Medley
Were a people black as is your night
Born to spread ammas eternal light
Which since time began
Has been to bring truth to every man
Our ancestors have since long ago
Passed their wisdom down so we to know
For here lies the key
That will help unfold the mistery
A seeds a star
A seeds a stars a seed
A stars a seed
A stars a seeds a star
In myself I do contain
The elements of sun and rain
First a seed with roots that swell
I gradually burst through my shell
Pushing down into the ground
The root of me is homeward bound
A trunk, a leaf and there I am
A miracle of least by far
Tree - you are the longest living one we know
The largest of all plants and still you grow
Tree - within your branches theres such history
So much of what were searching for to know
Every fifty years we celebrate
Po tolo, our star, as it rotates
Though infinitely small
It is still the heaviest of them all
(background)
A seeds a star
A seeds a stars a seed
A stars a seed
A stars a seeds a star
A seeds a star
A seeds a stars a seed
A stars a seed
A stars a seeds a star
(background-simultaneous)
Ye lolo de ye
Lolo ye kesse de ye
Kesse ye lolo de ye
Lolo ye kesse de ye
Kesse ye lolo de ye
Lolo ye kesse de ye
Kesse ye lolo de ye
Lolo ye kesse de ye
And some believe antennas are their leaves
That spans beyond our galaxy
Theyve been, they are and probably will be
Who are the mediocrity
song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Seed
The seed of the soil
Sown by the palms of man
To an opportune terrain
For the endowment of dowry
To the daughters of the soil
To hail the seed of man
Perpetuation of seeds of legacy
Genesis of offspring
Heirloom to human flux
As parts a divine truth - seed the vital force
Of the timelessness of being
poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
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Once And Once More
I silently bear the agony of waiting
Like the parched soil
That waits for the clouds to weep
The seed that craves in pain
For the first touch of rain!
I endure it flesh and soul
Watching in slow motion
The transformation of time
Stoically without a heartbreak
I survive the agony of a wait.
I know my dreams will arrive
The clouds will pour on the soil
Raindrops will pierce the seed
New life will burst forth
My wait will begin…once more!
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
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In My Dream, light plays!
Night is the time,
Sleeping in infinite nothing,
becoming nothing in beloved
embrace,
forgetting everything! In the lap of beloved enjoy
dreams,
may some come true,
Some may not,
Observing dreams one sees the
light within,
Randomly light plays in my dream
At the dawn, with gentle breeze,
Dreams melt, innerlight into light
of world,
Never go back to sleep,
If you sleep at dawn,
What will be there at dusk? If dustfree dawn make you sleep,
Failing to Smile and work,
If can't feel lighter in the light of
dawn,
Sure the darkness covering light,
Will make you faint at dusk!
Seeds says seed of immortality
is packed in mortal seed coat!
DNA sings, its immortality
covered in mortality of seed,
Finally Life sings,
Immortality of life is packed in mortal DNA,
and Self whispers, my
immortality is sung by mortal
life!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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The Lord's Harvest of Plenty
What a truly awesome thought indeed,
That throughout your day you live among seed.
Not the seeds that one would find in the ground,
These are not seen, but in the heart they are found.
These seeds are planted by the children of God,
As they simply follow the path The Savior has trod.
Your life as a Christian is not merely good deeds,
As your faithful witness could plant one of these seeds.
Or your life may be busy with a seed you don't know,
And your faithful witness is helping that little seed grow.
Planting and watering, as a Christian, is all we afford,
While all of the growth of that seed comes from the Lord.
After a little growth it is no longer a seed,
But a new vibrant Christian prepared for a deed.
The deed that has been prepared, I'm sure that you know,
Is to plant some new seed and to help water and help grow.
Once they have grown, they are cut with God's sickle of love,
And taken by The Lord to their Father's Home up above.
Whether the numbers are few or they are many,
You can be part of The Lord's Harvest of Plenty.
(Copyright © 08/2002)
Do Not Worry
do not worry
the seed of love will just find its way
to grow and upon itself
take its journey towards bliss
for like any seed on earth
it always finds itself to the glorious
face of the sun and shakes its hands
and be a part of its
embrace
from it a tree comes out
some fruits that ripen
for you to simply pick up
and eat
and without any question
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sun Of Life To Me
after the rain
there is a crack
on the surface
of the soil
a seed in there
begins to show a tip
looking for the first
sun of
its life
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Poverty's Grass
Arrogance said
We eat Poverty's grass
As Mockery fed
Biased high class
Now the famine
The Suicide breed
Pride is the sin
Destroyed your seed
We may eat grass
But you eat the soil
Your words are brass
And now you recoil
Grass tastes better
That you must know
But Death is the bitter
Seed that you grow
Dried and barren
Your land had become
Our grass can be eaten -
Do you want some?
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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On the 25th...
i am repeating
what usual things i have done
and will always be doing
there is always a room for
my silence
how i keep it always as a seed
growing
and just that
forever.... a seed
its fruits are nowhere to be
found
it has never even bloomed
a seed in my mind
like cancer
restrained, controlled,
well kept
now this silence
takes its toll at the count of
ten thousand and five hundred
solitudes.
i take my cup
drink the wine and i am praying
that let it not be taken
Thy will be done.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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