Let The Old Know
Roots die hard for shoots.
Shoots yield to flowers.
Flowers succumb to seeds.
Seeds die to give seedlings.
They are happy to do.
The old may know of this.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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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
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Life passes through, not being born.
The flowers think they gave birth to seeds,
The shoots, they gave birth to the flowers,
And the plants, they gave birth to the shoots,
So do the seeds they gave birth to plants.
You think you gave birth to the child.
None thinks they are only entrances
For the life force that passes through.
A life is not born, it passes through.
04.01.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Life passes........
The flowers think they gave birth to seeds,
The shoots, they gave birth to the flowers,
And the plants, they gave birth to the shoots,
So do the seeds they gave birth to plants.
You think you gave birth to the child.
None thinks they are only entrances
For the life force that passes through.
A life is not born, it passes through.
poem by Anees Akbar
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Blossom for ever
All the buds set not to flowers;
All the flowers set not to seeds;
So are the seeds not to seedlings.
Yet there is a joy in every function,
By which trees get exhilaration.
Still in blossom rests our love.
Yet it reverberates in me by its move
And generates lustre to your skin.
Let the blossom stay, if not be for seeding.
09.01.2000, Palakkd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Wonderful Seeds
What does sprout from seeds?
The flowers might, but do not war with deeds.
Then a darling panting comes from the breathing space,
Wonders adjust the expenses of the body, and this is the case.
The seeds of wonderful nature collide with the wind
To sprint in the sand and loam, all agog, all dinned.
Such surprise! Such a soil of wonderment!
The seeds from seeds are springing into flowers and abandonment.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Mother is the root
.
Mother is the root.
Children are the shoots.
Roots take care of the shoots.
Shoots have no care for roots.
They have other things to care.
Roots don’t bother. Can mother?
17.07.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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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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To A Friend Who Likes To Have Beauty In Her Hands
you do not gather the flowers
that easily from the sides of the hill
where you were never there
once
planting the seeds
nothing comes by chance or random
nothing sprouts just like magical seeds
using the lighted wand of your
fairy godmother
the flowers grow and bloom there
because someone took the burden
of seeding, transplanting, watering
and pruning them
these flowers are taken cared of
by loving hands
do not think that there is no sweat at all shed from the brows
for something so beautiful to land in your hands
or even by an accidental gaze hovering in the
retina of your eyes
he spent the sleepless nights watching the flowers
he bowed down to earth as though asking for the mercy
of the gods
he prayed and worked hard then beauty comes
in the grandeur of its petals in the dignity of its perfume
arrayed by the pearls of the dews
and salted by the power
of his tears.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Little Prince
Gave him a planet
All for his own
Everything is natural
So everything he owns
With the right train of thought
He gets anything he needs
Ground to stand on and
Plenty of seeds
As the Baobab grow
You cut them at the roots
When the volcanoes start to flow
clean the chimney shoots
everything is good
At the place called home
The stars dwindle
As the sun comes and goes
But its dark out here
Because he's there all alone
Give him a flower one to behold
This is where it begins A story will be told
The Baobabs grow cut them at the roots
A flower shows up early in her youth
Let her grow until her petals show
Smile back
And say hello
She loves you
Because you adore her
If she dies she knows you'll morn her
she knows this now she can enslave you
Give you purpose
Give you something to do
You can't have it all
Call the rest greed.
poem by ryan Cravatta
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I Planted A Seed
I Planted A Seed
Written by: Wilfred Mellers, Monday, April 26,2010 @ 1: 22 AM
I planted seeds and watched them grow
Each day I fertilized, pesticide, and watered the seeds
Weeds couldn’t strangle my seeds I made sure
They flourished in fertile soil gaining strength by the day
I tended my garden daily without fail
At night I made sure comforted they were
Kept them safe from the elements to flourish
Strong they grew so proud I was of my seedlings
Exquisite blossoms grew from the seeds I sow
Blessed was I my garden full of life and magnificence
Gracious flowers from seeds bloomed respectfully there
Rare colors of light bloom in my plot
Flourished flowers came and went in seasons due
Now fully mature they need tending no more
Their colors now turn a pale winter blue
Scornful now my flowers turn a shadowy brown
Fields I no longer tend dry from disuse
Efforts made gallantly on unappreciative ears they are falling
Ostracized be by flowers lacking in devotion
Buds turned left the farmer to burn in summers heat
One seedling still cares and is always there
Never far fledged the one daffodil looms
In shadows bloomed now to a spectacular delight
In sorrowed fields once a daffodil is now in full bloom
In loving care suffered they not from abandonment
Tender the care giving for the farmer was driven
Success was a must for crooked the journey was laid
Apples of my eyes for I planted seeds and watch them grow
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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Fertile Ground
Some lives fall on fertile ground
and grow and grow and grow.
Some lives fall on stony ground
and fail to grow at all.
We are like the seeds of flowers
we need a base to grow,
to spread our roots
and watch our seedlings grow.
11 April 2009
poem by David Harris
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Spring
Frost-locked all the winter,
Seeds, and roots, and stones of fruits,
What shall make their sap ascend
That they may put forth shoots?
Tips of tender green,
Leaf, or blade, or sheath;
Telling of the hidden life
That breaks forth underneath,
Life nursed in its grave by Death.
Blows the thaw-wind pleasantly,
Drips the soaking rain,
By fits looks down the waking sun:
Young grass springs on the plain;
Young leaves clothe early hedgerow trees;
Seeds, and roots, and stones of fruits,
Swollen with sap put forth their shoots;
Curled-headed ferns sprout in the lane;
Birds sing and pair again.
There is no time like Spring,
When life's alive in everything,
Before new nestlings sing,
Before cleft swallows speed their journey back
Along the trackless track -
God guides their wing,
He spreads their table that they nothing lack, -
Before the daisy grows a common flower
Before the sun has power
To scorch the world up in his noontide hour.
There is no time like Spring,
Like Spring that passes by;
There is no life like Spring-life born to die, -
Piercing the sod,
Clothing the uncouth clod,
Hatched in the nest,
Fledged on the windy bough,
Strong on the wing:
There is no time like Spring that passes by,
Now newly born, and now
Hastening to die.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Bear The Waste
A lot of flowers die without fruiting.
A lot fruits die without seeding.
A lot of seeds die without germinating.
Most of the seedlings become casualitis.
Every year, a tree thus incurs losses
In an attempt to leave a copy of it,
With preparedness to the waste of efforts.
Must we regret the waste we accumulate?
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Editing Same Path
I HAVE walked upon this path
alone
and that was years ago
when i still cry
water the pebbles with tears
they do not grow
flowers
there are no trees there
One day
I come down from the clouds
since i am heavy with
rain in my
heart and decide to
walk back the path
of stones
I have seeds of clouds in my pocket
rainbow shoots in my hands
The path have since then
bloomed with dew
and vapors rise to the skies
in prayers
Trees grow and
bees pollinate
a new world is born
since then
and children come and play
their games
again
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sexual Thoughts To Die Last
Having lost the vigour to produce seeds,
Send out blossom and give out shoots and leaves,
With the stem turning senseless in due course,
A tree still feels the pulse of lust and life
With its roots being active to the earth.
Having lost the vigour to impregnate,
To keep counts and volume from falling,
With the stem losing its power in aging,
A man still feels the pulse of life and lust
With his thoughts responsive to women.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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On the open plain (Catena Rondo)
Some flowers rise up bright from tiny seeds,
blooms appear with heads searching for the sun;
on this earth so it's been since time begun,
some flowers rise up bright from tiny seeds,
blooms appear with heads searching for the sun
they rejoice over a day that is new
are fresh with the glistening morning dew;
blooms appear with heads searching for the sun
they rejoice over a day that is new
as bees and butterflies flutter along
birds do sing the happiest kind of song
they rejoice over a day that is new,
as bees and butterflies flutter along
wild deer graze at the soft tender green grass
while they in massive herds do slowly pass
as bees and butterflies flutter along
wild deer graze at the soft tender green grass
some flowers rise up bright from tiny seeds
grow to strength in a world full of big weeds,
wild deer graze at the soft tender green grass,
some flowers rise up bright from tiny seeds,
blooms appear with heads searching for the sun;
on this earth so it's been since time begun,
some flowers rise up bright from tiny seeds.
poem by Gert Strydom
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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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Without shoots
You and your parents are
Shoot and roots of a seedling.
You and your children are
Root and shoots of a seedling.
Connectivity between
Root and shoot is original.
So is the bonding between
Shoots and root as natural.
Husband and wife are
Scion and stock of a graft.
Connectivity between
Scion and stock is artificial.
So is the bonding between
Husband and wife.
The old couple will know this.
Being childless is the one without shoots.
28.12.2011
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Brothers And Sisters
now that the roots are dead
and the buds cannot anymore
turn into flowers of their own
we turn back to the seeds
hidden under the ground
we look for the moist patches
and begin to sprout
we give the leaves and then
we become trees ourselves
apart from each other
now, not even knowing what
are our names
we rationalize these separations
the cycle of life
the pathways of survival
the genetic tendrils looking for the light of the sun
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Old pine
What gifts for passionate lovers
Shall we find
Of flowers
Of books with sufficant verse
Chips sprinkled, of odorous Cedar wood.
Give me young shoots,
Of aromatic orange rind
Saphire colors the sea sand around
The beauty is shimmering the ground
A sweet picture, and aroma arouses our sences
Sented with Lavander faint and fine.
Dried pedals of flowers
Mingled with old pine
poem by Howard Johnson
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