Growing weeds
I sowed seeds, numerous,
In the minds of multitudes,
In the form of benevolent deeds,
Some tiny, some giant,
And a few most precious,
With the hope of a good harvest.
Some never sprouted or rooted;
Some were infant mortals.
Some fell on rocks or in desert,
Or were prey to the pests,
With the rest managing to grow
And bore fruits,
Which were either sour or stolen
Or were left rotten.
Yet, with the solace I go
That the bio-mass that I made
Is very much in need
To serve as a mulch to the folks.
19.07096
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The harvest
Some sowed seeds of cabage.
They got the leaves as harvest..
Some grafted buds of oleander.
They got flowers as harvest.
Some planted ginger for rhizome,
And some, cinnamon for bark.
So are banana grown for fruits,
And cardamom, for seeds.
Some plants for wood or shades.
Planting is not for only seeds.
Loving is not for only progeny.
It includes sights, pursuits, chats,
Romance, embraces and indulgence,
Recollections and remembrance.
Pining and sorrow are by-products.
Each is a piece of harvest of love.
03.07.2000.Madras
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Parables of Jesus: The Kingdom of Heaven: The Wheat and the Darnel Gospel, Matthew 13: 24-30
Then Jesus told another parable:
‘Kingdom of Heaven- Wheat and the darnel'
Heaven can be compared to that of a man,
Who sowed only good seed in his whole field.
But just when everybody fell asleep,
His enemy had come and sown darnel,
Amongst the wheat and sped away quite fast.
And when the new wheat sprouted very well,
The darnel too appeared amidst the same;
His labourers all went to him and said,
‘Wasn't it good seed that you sowed in your field?
He told them, ‘Some enemy had done this! '
When they asked if they should pull the weeds out,
He told, ‘No, as the wheat would come with it! '
‘Let them both grow until the harvest-time;
And then I will instruct my reapers all,
‘Collect the darnel first; burn the bundles!
Gather the good wheat all into my barn! '
poem by John Celes
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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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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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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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Gray Cliffs And Gray Skies
on a foundation of
giant boulders of rocks
in the desert
of Saudi Arabia
where the grass are
resilient to
heat and change
the gray cliffs rise to touch
the gray skies
as though
they are on a conference
for something bigger
than the giant rocks below
and higher than the
heights they have achieved
something must be so
important
like the need for rain
and seeds
and men and women
with thick callous hands
to work for them
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Reaping What You Sow
There's an open secret, one you must have known
In this world we live in we must reap what we've sown
And our deeds like little seeds which'll surely grow
To show the world like movie the seed that we sow
Many plant mangoes expecting apples to grow
Forgetting the law which says 'You reap what you sow'
A tale I'll tell you of a wise old fool
Who did all in his power to bend this little rule
He sowed so many evil seeds while alive
And saw them grow into evil trees before his last count of five
So learn from this story, be you friend or foe
In this world we live in we'll reap what we sow
poem by Olamilekan Adewoyin
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SONNET: Wild Trees
Look how the trees grow in the wilderness!
The Rain and Sun tend to their growing needs;
No man can put the tree’s growth in harness;
‘Tis clothed by verdure leaves, flow’rs, fruits with seeds.
Look how the Wind spreads wide the seeds in soil!
How fast they sprout into seedlings with Rain;
Some go awaste but most grow without toil;
Alas! Man thinks wild trees are just a bane.
Yet, every tree that God had made has use;
And every living creature God made fine;
‘Tis left to man, his faculties to use;
‘Tis left to him to keep his shoes in shine.
Some things we see, we may not understand;
God’s creation is something very grand.
poem by John Celes
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Giant silk cotton trees grow out of very tiny seeds.
Pity The Violets
in the desert
some tiny flowers grow
the sands are blown by the wind
and we cover our eyes
we do not want to be harmed
we continue walking
in the desert some tiny
violets still grow as tiny as sand
no wind is that so cruel
to blow them all away
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sonnet: Viewing From a Wiser Angle
Why lead a group of people most corrupt?
Do they deserve a righteous man as boss?
Why sermon audience that can interrupt?
Unheeding to advice good is their loss!
Why waste one’s precious time on deafened ears?
Why waste one’s life reforming ‘criminals’?
Why live as alien, eating food with fears?
Some want the road-side and not urinals!
Why talk to men with tongues smoothened by lies?
Why guide the evil minds to do good deeds?
Why talk of God to foolish atheist guys?
Good fruits appear in plants grown from good seeds!
Sometimes, ’tis good to stay a rung lower!
Corrupt can’t stay for long in much power!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 5-23-2006
poem by John Celes
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Bible in Poetry: Gospel of St. Matthew (Chapter 13)
Out of the house, then Jesus went
That day, and by the sea, sat down;
Large crowds had gathered around Him
So, sat He in a boat off-shore,
While crowds were standing on the shore.
He spoke in detailed parables:
‘A sower, went to sow, one day,
Some seeds fell on the path, he walked
And birds ate them up, all at once.’
‘Some fell on rocky ground without
Soil adequate and sprouted but,
The soil wasn’t deep and sun that rose
Had scorched while it withered, rootless.’
‘Some seeds had fallen amidst thorns,
And with the passing of the morns,
The faster growing thorns choked them,
And there remained, just stubs of stem! ’
‘Just some seeds fell on soil-rich ground;
They grew so well and it was found
That they produced fruits many-fold
A hundred / sixty / thirty-fold! ’
‘Those who have ears, then ought to hear! ’
His disciples then questioned Him,
‘Why speak to them in parables? ’
And Jesus told them, in reply:
The kingdom’s knowledge. mystery
To you, has been by God granted,
And not to others by the Lord.’
‘To one who has, given is more;
And richer will he always grow;
From those that have a little then,
Ev’n that will be away taken.’
‘In parables, I speak, that’s why
Because they look but cannot pry
They hear but don’t to them pay heed
Nor do they understand the need.’
Isaiah’s prophecy’s fulfilled;
Though you hear, you understand not.
Indeed they look but dot see.’
‘The hearts of people are so gross,
They hear and yet have hearing-loss;
They’ve closed their eyes, lest they may see,
Their deafened ears have turned stony,
Nor do they understand by heart,
To be by God’s word, a convert;
I heal them all as it’s my part.’
‘Blessed are your eyes because they see
And ears because they hear surely’
Amen, I say to you this day:
So many prophets and righteous
Had longed to see but saw just less,
And did not see or hear quite well
The things you hear and that I tell.’
Then hear the sower’s parable:
‘The seed that’s sown on path is one
Who hears the Word of God and yet,
Does not truly understand it;
The evil one then comes and steals
Away what’s sown within his heart.’
‘The seed on rocky ground is one
Who hears the word at once with joy
But this lasts only for sometime
When persecution, trials come
He tends to fall away from God.’
‘The seed that falls amongst the thorns
Is one who hears the word but then
The lure of worldly lucre choke
And therefore, it can bear no fruit.’
‘The seed that’s sown on soil that’s rich
Is one who hears and understands
And therefore bears fruit manyfold
Depending on each one’s effort.’
He told another parable:
‘Heaven’s kingdom is like a man
In his own field, who sowed good seed;
At night, his enemy sowed weed.
Amongst the wheat and disappeared;
The good crop grew and bore good fruit;
The weeds also grew very well;
His slaves then came and asked landlord,
‘Didn’t you sow good seed in your field?
How did the weeds happen to come? ’
He replied, ’’Tis enemy’s work.’
His slaves then asked the master then,
‘Should we now go, pull out the weeds? ’
The master said, ‘No, if you do,
The wheat could be uprooted too.
Let’s allow both for now to grow
At harvest time, I’ll give orders
To pull out weeds and make bundles;
And burn them until they turn ash,
Then gather wheat and store in barn.’
He told another parable:
‘The kingdom of Heaven is like
A mustard-seed, a person sowed
In a field though, the smallest seed;
When fully grown, it’s a large bush
And birds build nests on its branches.’
He spoke another parable:
‘The kingdom of heaven’s like yeast,
When mixed with much of wheat flour,
It leavens the entire dough.’
Jesus spoke just in parables,
To fulfill what the prophet said:
‘I’ll open mouth in parables;
I will announce what lies hidden
From foundation of this great world.’
When crowds left, Jesus returned home.
His disciples requested Him
To explain parable, He’d said,
That of the weeds, inside the field.
‘He who sows good seed,
Is the Son of Man;
The field’s the world of men;
Good seed are children of kingdom;
Bad seed are children of Satan;
The enemy, devil;
The harvest, end of age;
Harvesters are angels.
‘Just as how weeds are burned
So, at the end of age
The Son of Man will send
His Angels to gather
All evil-doers and
Those causing others, sin.
They’ll be thrown in furnace
Of fire eternal,
With wailing, teeth-grinding;
The righteous shine like sun,
In their Father’s Kingdom! ’
‘Whoev’r has ears, then ought to hear:
‘Heaven ‘s kingdom’s akin treasure,
A person finds buried in field;
He hides it back with joy again
And sells all that he has, to buy
The field with hidden treasure soon.’
‘Heaven’s Kingdom’s like a merchant,
Who goes in search of costly pearls;
And finding just one priceless one,
He sells all that he possesses,
And buys the invaluable pearl! ’
‘Heaven’s Kingdom’s like a net,
That’s thrown into the sea and wet,
To collect fish of every kind.
When full, the net is hauled ashore;
Good ones are isolated there;
The bad fishes are thrown away.’
‘At end of age, ’twill be like-wise
The angels will go separate
The wicked from the righteous ones
And throw them in Fiery Furnace
Where wailing and grinding of teeth
Occur in manner incessant.’
‘Do you then understand? ’ He asked
And all of them well answered, ‘Yes! ’
Then Jesus said, ‘Each instructed
Scribe in Heaven’s Kingdom is like
A head who brings from his household,
And store-room, both the new and old! ’
When Jesus finished parables,
He went away to His place then.
He reached His native place and taught
The people in their synagogue.
They were so astonished and asked,
‘From where did this man get wisdom
And how does He do mighty deeds? ’
‘Isn’t he the carpenter’s son?
Is not His mother Mary called?
Are not His brothers Joseph, James
Simon, Judas and sisters too?
From where does this man get all this? ’
They took offence at Jesus then.
‘A prophet’s not without honor
Except in his house / native place.’
Because of lack of faith in Him,
He didn’t do mighty deeds more there.
(6-2-2007)
poem by John Celes
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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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The Garden
CHOKED with ill weeds my garden lay a-dying,
Hard was the ground, no bud had heart to blow,
Yet shone your smile there, with your soft breath sighing:
'Have patience, for some day the flowers will grow.'
Some weeds you killed, you made a plot and tilled it;
'My plot,' you said, 'rich harvest yet shall give,'
With sun-warmed seeds of hope your dear hands filled it,
With rain-soft tears of pity bade them live.
So, weak among the weeds that had withstood you,
One little pure white flower grew by-and-by;
You could not pluck my flower--alas! how should you?
You sowed the seed, but let the blossom die.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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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
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Affair Is No Harm
What is so called affair,
The flirting in secrecy?
Seeing, pursuing,
Assignation,
Exchange of words,
Benevolent deeds,
Barter of gifts,
Telephone calls,
Clandestine meetings,
Stolen kisses,
Numerous love-letters,
Heavy breathing,
Pining, saddening.
In between masturbations.
that’s all, no more.
No adultery, however.
I flirted with many
Whom I loved,
But slept not with any.
It is a known history.
I slept with a few,
With whom I had no romance.
It is a burried history.
An affair is more rewarding
to mind and soul.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Right To Know
The tiny child that lives inside
Deserves the right to know
That life would never be denied
While it had time to grow.
For life is sacred, sanctified,
God's precious one-time gift,
For which He must be glorified
When we our praises lift.
The tiny child that God prepared
Perhaps had much to do,
Perhaps with many blessings shared
With folks like me and you.
Perhaps an artist to be spared,
A doctor or a nurse,
Yet only if the people cared
To bless and not to curse.
The tiny child deserves no tears,
No blood shed as a whim,
No cutting short of future years,
Its destiny to dim
God spared my life to write my fears,
To voice my deep concerns.
God gave me hands and feet and ears.
Such gifts no wise man spurns.
The tiny child can't see the face
Of she who bears its form,
Nor can it know another place
To store it safe and warm
If it could speak, its thoughts to trace,
What wise words could it say?
'I am unique, I grow by grace
Don't throw my life away '
poem by Denis Martindale
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Happy Birthday to you.
Christmas mass at twelve,
To mark the birth of a kid,
When Mary bore her son,
Joseph was so gracious.
Took her son in his hand,
Wiped out the body fluid,
Cleaned Him, not bathed,
The arrival of a messiah untied.
Calves and the cows looked after Him,
Chirping birds and insects made the lullaby,
Mary, the mother, was too tired,
While the cute infant was taken care.
Let the baby boy has his good sleep,
He has a duty to do on his Father’s Instruction,
Let the infant feels the warmth of His mummy,
He needs to endure the shocking reality.
An infant who has been adored since young,
He has a crown and a cloak of white and red,
He stands on the globe with His kind look,
Happy Birthday to you., Jesus of Nazareth.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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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)
Harmony
when the guava tree
showed leaves
we waited for time
for it to give flowers
and then it came
we waited till it
bore fruits and then
the fruits ripened
we waited till all the
ripe ones fell to the
ground
then our hands picked
them all up
and we ate the juicy
sweet pulp and then
we spit out the seeds
to the ground
we swallowed what
fills our thirst and hunger
and the world
smiled
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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