To A Friend Somewhere
the seeds you sow have grown
and trees have they become
flowering and fruiting and now
ripe for us to gather,
when will you come back?
come springtime?
we shall wait for another winter.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Hypersyllabic lyric with catalexis (for Mary Oliver)
There’s budding in the springtime;
fruiting in the fall;
flowering in the summertime;
but winter comes to all..
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Arrival
I wait for the humming bird to hum.
I wait for the bees to buzz.
I wait for the doves to bill and coo.
I wait for how it was
When springtime memory
Made its presence known
And I wait for winter's melancholy
to which I find I'm prone
to finally leave me alone.
I wait for springtime showers to appear.
I wait for a perfect rainbow.
I wait for the smell of blossoms.
I wait for them to grow
When every springtime memory
comes alive again.
And I wait for winter's darkness
which I pray for to descend
so I can let my yearning end.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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My beautiful flowering trees
My beautiful flowering trees
One day I shall buy some land
Plant countless seeds
And watch them grow
Into beautiful flowering trees
A cool breeze
Will bring me
Sweet fragrances
From a thousand flowering trees
I shall listen
To the songs
From birds perched
In the tall flowering trees
I shall play
With my children and theirs
In the vast expanse of green
Amongst beautiful flowering trees
One day I shall rest
Passing into oblivion
My ashes scattered
Amidst the beautiful flowering trees
by Ash (Rishi's Dad)
poem by Rishi Menon
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Wait!
Wait
until the fruit is fully ripe
so you can taste
its sweetness.
Wait
until the rain is over
so you can fly your kite
up so high.
Wait
until the flowers have withered
so you can take the seeds of the new blooms
for the next springtime.
Wait
until I say the words 'I love you'
so you can hold me
....closely.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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It's a Citrus Thing
To feel and peel an Orange.
And to know it is naturally sliced.
Sweetened to eat when ripe.
Like a grapefruit!
Tasting good and nice in Summer.
It's a citrus thing I think.
An apple peeled does not reveal that!
It's a citrus thing I think.
Lemons and Limes are neither sweet or pink.
Being predictably what they are.
And often they are used in an assortment of mixed drinks.
It's a citrus thing I think.
Although Bananas do have seeds...
And grow from trees,
When peeled their seeds are barely seen.
Unnoticed they go when chewed too.
It's a citrus thing making this interesting...
With a fruiting done few do!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Field Of Opportunity
Ive been wrong before
And Ill be there again
I dont have any answers my friend
Just this pile of old questions
My memory left me here
In the field of opportunity
Its plowin time again.
Im going back to my house
But Im not goin now
Its too early to be leaving here, somehow
Let me bore you with this story
How my lover let me down
While I borrow seeds of sadness
From the ground.
In the field of opportunity
Its plowin time again.
There aint no way of telling
Where these seeds will rise or when
Ill just wait around til springtime
And then, Ill find a friend
In the field of opportunity
Its plowin time again.
When Im all done cultivatin
Ill be rockin on the porch
Tryin to picture you and where you are
And therell be no hesitatin
When cupid lights the torch
With those headlights comin down the hill
Between the stars.
In the field of opportunity
Its plowin time again.
There aint no way of telling
Where these seeds will rise or when
Ill just wait around til springtime
And then, Ill find a friend
In the field of opportunity
Its plowin time again.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Dream in Winter
When all the daisies and daffodils
are buried deep below,
and summer's but a memory
hidden 'pon the drifting snow ~
'tis there beneath the whitened glow,
in a bed of greenest green,
that lives the dreams of springtime hue
with a gleam of emerald sheen.
When all the trees are bared and bent
against wintry winds that blow,
and spring is but a wistful sigh
'pon the branches that bow low ~
'tis there within the boughs so wide,
in a bed of greenest green,
that lives the buds of springtime hue
with a gleam of emerald sheen.
When roses fade 'pon winter's morn
as their petals flee on frosty breath,
and thorns are left to sadly yearn
in their bed of beauty's death ~
'tis there beneath those roses grown,
in a bed of greenest green,
that lives a vision of springtime hue
with a gleam of pastel sheen.
When winter brings a world of white,
a wonderland of icy glow,
and ends the seasons of green, and gold,
hidden 'neath a field of snow ~
'tis there the sleeping earth awaits
in a bed of springtime green,
sighing softly through winter's chill,
'pon a dream of emerald sheen.
poem by Hazelmarie Elliott
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We Decided To Cut Some Trees
we planted the seeds together
we were thinking of fruits
for our children
we were thinking of the shade
where they can
in the future play
then the fruits in bounty came
mangoes loaded
and some water apples
shining on the twigs
the fruits ripen and some birds
came and ate them
the fruits ripen and some fell
on the ground and some
worms came and ate them
the trees get tired finally of the
seasons
flowering, fruiting, falling and
rotting and trying to
repeat the cycle all over
again
for years and years
we got old of waiting for something
new and exciting
we got bored of the fruits
the children of the neighbors
got married and left the place
we got old and tired and this day
we decided to cut the trees
some for the first time
we are too shaded
we want to see light come
we want to know what sunshine is
again, after all those years
of coldness and darkness under
the shady trees
perhaps, this is something new now
light and sun and another way to look
at our lives
something exciting something to open
to see blue skies to see the full moon
to feel warmth to let the worms sing
to see some precious stones
hidden all these years in our common paths
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Why There Are No Seeds Growing In The Garden Anymore?
because the trees
have grown so tall
and the fruits are many...
because the flowers
are blooming
and there are no more
spaces for the
seedlings....
because the beach
is so calm and the blueness
has become so inviting...
the seeds can wait
always
for the next planting season...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Winter's love
Winter, has the charm of life,
Winter, is like my wife.
Winter is my love,
Winter is my dream of always ''wow''
I always wait for winter like its friend,
the trees in winter always bend, having its branches like the ghosts arms.
they are my always my eye's charms.
do you love winter as i do?
poem by Leah Dsouza
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When You Touch Me
when you touch me
something in me grows
like a mustard
and then as Jesus once said
the mustard
becomes a tree and i am here
on top of everything
flowering fruiting
blooming ripening
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Life in Winter's Graveyard
Walking down a muddy road
In the throes of December
Heaving through the decay
Of Spring's now frozen embers
Is there life in Winter's graveyard?
Frozen trees bereft of leaves
Stand upright in frosted death
Fields once ripe and lush with fruit
Lay still without the Summer's breath
Is there life in Winter's graveyard?
Soggy soil sloshing below my feet
Autumn's leaves have been swept away
And while I march on viciously
My eyes behold only death and gray
Is there life in Winter's graveyard?
Then comes a patch of greenery
A lush, though simple, paradise
I stop to gaze at the loveliness
Beheld before beauty-starved eyes
There is life in Winter's graveyard.
A patch of three-leaved charms
Circling the base of a withered tree
I gaze at this Springtime green
Surrounded by December's villainy.
There is life in Winter's graveyard.
Though Winter's tomb encases
Our world in a carcass' masquerade
This patch of sought-for greenery
Removes the masks from Death's charade
There is life in Winter's graveyard.
poem by Josephine J.W
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Autumn III
The Autumn is old,
The sere leaves are flying;—
He hath gather'd up gold,
And now he is dying;—
Old Age, begin sighing!
The vintage is ripe,
The harvest is heaping;—
But some that have sow'd
Have no riches for reaping;—
Poor wretch, fall a-weeping!
The year's in the wane,
There is nothing adorning,
The night has no eve,
And the day has no morning;—
Cold winter gives warning.
The rivers run chill,
The red sun is sinking,
And I am grown old,
And life is fast shrinking;
Here's enow for sad thinking!
poem by Thomas Hood
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Numbness For Sound
A cold winter sun
My feet underground
A pale winter city
A numbness for sound
I'll wait back here
All that you notice
A moment in time
A photograph lost here
Since you were mine
I'll wait back here
Or should I
Start pushing my way back
Yeah, should I start
Pushing my way back
I walk past your room
In deep silhouette
You're tired of racing
You're down and I said
I'll wait back here
A cold end, and evening
A soaked cigarette
I'm asleep on a shoulder
That I've never met
I'll wait back here
Or should I
Start pushing my way back
Yeah, should I start
Pushing my way back
Cold, and the whiskey is wearing
And I'm on the edge of my breath
Oh, and I'm thinking of leaving
I could just lay down
Lay down and freeze to death
A cold winter sun
My feet underground
A pale winter city
A numbness for sound
song performed by by Howie Day
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Winter Breeze
The winter breeze
Seems frigid to me.
As I sit in the park
All alone.
The limbs of the trees,
Don't sway or move
Along with the winter breeze...
The tire swing moves,
Occupant free...
While the leaf barren trees
Shiver in the winter breeze.
Even the most playful and darring children,
Wont be caught in the cold.
This winter breeze
Seems frigid to me....
I cant wait for spring....
poem by Ashley Wade
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Winter
In these last days
In which winter has sealed all life in rest
And in these last mad hours blowing through the trees
In which warm lovers have sewn their final ties of happiness
When words iced cold
Break down
Returning to a familiar yearning
In frozen parks
Where empty seats
Mark the turning of a year
We wait in winter
Some cross by the frozen lakes
Where brittle arms of trees are waving
We wait in winter
Growing older
Certain of ourselves in sleep
For this is a time of birth
In learning kindness
In the absence of the flower
In every naked seed
We find our power
In the absence, our completion
In the ending, our returning
Back to the root
That's buried deep within the soil
yvette m smith dec 08
poem by Yvette Smith
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In The Springtime
In the springtime, all things begin to glow,
autumn’s seeds that fell begin to grow
as a breath of newborn air
stretches out from everywhere.
In the springtime, love’s finger
stretches to touch everyone.
Eyes flutter to give new life
a chance under heaven’s skies.
In the springtime, tender kisses,
the promise of things to come.
Warm hearts beat tenderly
under a warming sun.
21-22 July 2010
poem by David Harris
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Fallow Souls
These fields are fallow now
where we once sowed our seeds
and the trees bloomed in spring
with the grass below them green.
Should we let the summer's kiss
shrive the husks and the seeds
so our lives are as fallow now
as summer without the rain?
I am back, blossom and fruit
here to watch you grow again
where I was blown on the wind
alone and withering with no soil
The winter turns cold again,
now white with frozen calluses.
Our river still runs swift and strong
always waiting for the next harvest.
poem by Poet Dragon
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Winter Has Come
Definitely winter has come.
The evergreen shrub's white flowers have disappeared.
The ginko trees have turned into brooms.
Like a sharp sharp piercing, winter has come.
Everyone dislikes winter.
Deserted by grasses and trees, run away from by insects, winter has come.
Winter,
come to me, come to me.
I have winter's strength, winter is my victim.
Permeate through, penetrate into!
Make fires break out! Bury with snow I
Like a sharp knife, winter has come.
poem by KotaroTakamura
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The Seeds Of War
When the seeds of war are sown,
hardly is it ever known
who has planted it
and what for?
Was it about
blood and gore?
When the seeds of war take root
it's hidden reasons make us mute.
Why was it planted
and by whom?
Was its purpose
doom and gloom?
When the seeds of war are grown
never is it ever shown
how it is planted
in men's mind?
How it's made them
all so blind.
When the seeds of war do thrive
many will not be alive.
They'll be planted
in false graves.
These seeds propel
how the world behaves.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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