Spring Plowing
Deeply furrowed,
the wide field
lies in muddy chaos.
Smell the sweet clay
as it fills this cloudy spring day.
Earth’s dark womb
lies bare.
Gleaming plow,
efficient engine
sunder black skin of soil
to plant the seed
deep
beneath the future.
See how it will be.
On a warm, summer’s morn
static breast
will rise with deeper breath,
and muddy death
give way
to ascendant, golden day
poem by Steven Federle
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Black Muddy River
When the last rose of summer pricks my finger,
And the hot sun chills me to the bone,
When I cant hear the song for the singer,
And I cant tell my pillow from a stone,
I will walk alone by the black muddy river,
And sing me a song of my own,
I will walk alone by the black muddy river,
And sing me a song of my own.
When the last bolt of sunshine hits the mountain,
And the stars start to splatter in the sky,
When the moon hits the southwest horizon,
With the scream of an eagle on the fly,
I will walk alone by the black muddy river,
And listen to the ripples as they moan,
I will walk alone by the black muddy river,
And sing me a song of my own.
Black muddy river, roll on forever,
I dont care how deep or wide, if youve got another side,
Roll muddy river, roll muddy river, black muddy river, roll.
When it seems like the night will last forever,
And theres nothing left to do but count the years,
When the strings of my heart begin to sever,
And stones fall from my eyes instead of tears,
I will walk alone, by the black muddy river,
And dream me a dream of my own,
I will walk alone, by the black muddy river,
And sing me a song of my own, sing me a song of my own.
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fundamental of Liar Chapter XLII: What Lies Beneath
beauty lies beneath
sense lies beneath
secret lies beneath
character lies beneath
rule lies beneath
mind lies beneath
past lies beneath
foundation lies beneath
root lies beneath
dark hole lies beneath
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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There Is No Glory
There is no glory
in dying before your time
or having your remains
scattered across some muddy field.
There is no glory
in a war of any sorts.
We may take issues with another
with fingers pointed in scorn,
but there is no glory
when death becomes involved
and bodies lie scattered
on some remote muddy field.
There is no glory
in the multiples of death
during any kind of war.
It is the innocent
that end up sleeping
in death’s dark lonely bed.
poem by David Harris
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The Big Muddy
Billy had a mistress down on a and 12th
She was that little somethin that he did for himself
His own little secret didnt hurt nobody
Come the afternoon hed take her wadin
Waist deep in the big muddy
Waist deep in the big muddy
You start out standing but end up crawlin
Got in some trouble and needed a hand from a friend of mine
This old friend he had a figure in mind
It was nothing illegal just a little bit funny
He said cmon dont tell me that the rich dont know
Sooner or later it all comes down to money
And youre waist deep in the big muddy
Waist deep in the big muddy
You start on higher ground but end up crawlin
Well I had a friend said you watch what you do
Poison snake bites you and youre poison too*
How beautiful the river flows and the birds they sing
But you and I were messier things
There aint no one leavin this world buddy
Without their shirttail dirty
Or their hands bloody
Waist deep in the big muddy
Waist deep in the big muddy
You start on higher ground but end up somehow crawlin
Waist deep in the big muddy
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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MuDdY......... wAtEr............! !
MuDdY......... wAtEr............! !
Pouring muddy water?
I clean my self
Again he throws
Muddy water
I throw him out again
There walks a new person
Sprinkles little mud around
I dust them here n there
And I walk towards life
He stops me there
I turn back at him
He splashes the muddy water
I wash them again with
With waters of tears!
Words of apology
Gestures of forgiveness
He takes my crying face
And paints me again
Again with muddy water
No tears this time
Its blood I use again
To clear the muddy water
And I limit the days I want to live
In distress he pats my pats my back
With his right hand
But alas he was staining me
With his left hand
Muddy water was it again
I clear my seat
I tidy myself
Painstakingly not with
Brush nor broom
But with scalpel and knife
Cutting and chistlling
Callous and critical
Every inch of my individuality
But still he would silently take me
Take me to the corners of love
& again teem me with muddy water
There I attempt to kill myself
& he pacifies me again
With explanations of muddy water
Now I know scrubbing and scouring
Will never help
Virtuous and untainted
Spotless and shipshape do I wannu be
But its muddy water this lfe
So i`l go beneath heaps of mud
Cause however much of muddy water
Muddy water he pours
I`l be mud all the time
My blood minced in mud
My bones decayed in mud
My flesh sink in mud
Every cell of mine
Crumble into the muddy mud! !
poem by Dr DHANA LAKSHMI
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The Heart Of The Woman
O WHAT to me the little room
That was brimmed up with prayer and rest;
He bade me out into the gloom,
And my breast lies upon his breast.
O what to me my mother's care,
The house where I was safe and warm;
The shadowy blossom of my hair
Will hide us from the bitter storm.
O hiding hair and dewy eyes,
I am no more with life and death,
My heart upon his warm heart lies,
My breath is mixed into his breath.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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Cenon...
just the same i took the shot
he posed with his teeth protruding to the sun
his half body beside the
clear and calm river
flowing
i was there looking for a man
carrying a plow on his shoulder
muddy feet and
shriveled hair and
furrowed skin on his forehead
but then i was told that he had long died
of tuberculosis
and that he had no son and wife
to mourn for him
Cenon is ok.
but he is never enough
to fill in the gaps of the loneliness
the summing
up of all deprived humanity
he is getting bald
and no one speaks about it somehow
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Joy Of Spring
A Spring morning
A warm Breeze
doves cooing softly
Pollen dusted trees
A few brave violets
A red streaked dawn
A very early robin
Earthworms in the lawn
Spring peeper frogs
Smell of dogwood blossoms
Nature’s petroglyphs in muddy bogs
Footprints left by possums
Easter eggs and bonnets
Chocolate rabbits, Missing ears
Jelly beans and sonnets
Spilled easter baskets, children’s tears
Parades,
leafy bowers
Lemonades
Spring showers
Spring mornings
Warm breezes
Deep breaths
Allergic sneezes
Smell of Fresh blossoms
Sound of birds as they sing
Joy of life.. joy of being…
…Joy of Spring
poem by David Whalen
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Sonnet For Christmas
I saw our golden years on a black gale,
our time of love spilt in the furious dust.
'O we are winter-caught, and we must fail,'
said the dark dream, 'and time is overcast.'
-And woke into the night; but you were there,
and small as seed in the wild dark we lay.
Small as seed under the gulfs of air
is set the stubborn heart that waits for day.
I saw our love the root that holds the vine
in the enduring earth, that can reply,
'Nothing shall die unless for me it die.
Murder and hate and love alike are mine';
and therefore fear no winter and no storm
while in the knot of earth that root lies warm.
poem by Judith Wright
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Spacetravel
They're polishing the government
Resembles a last waltz
We are the playthings
We are the form
Soon it may come
Since we can rise
Too long since I've seen you
We move like satellites
My future lies
In space travel
She's coming over me
They're burning the tenements
Topless progressive thinking
Political holes
Got six but pray for seven
My future lies
In space travel
She's coming over me
I employ spies
To stroll the gravel
They never want to leave
The future lies
The future lies
Scared of the government scared of the government
The future lies
In space travel
There's someone after me
I employ spies
In silver tassels
The never seem that pleased
The future lies
The future lies (space)
The future lies
The future lies (space)
The future lies
The future lies (space travel)
The future lies (space travel)
song performed by by Bush from The Science Of Things
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Winter Sleeps
Let winter fall in nature's bed.
Plump springtime's pillow for his head.
A flowered spread to tuck him in ~
to warm the seasoned chill within.
May roses climb to hide his chill
and chase the golden daffodils
away to play within life's stream ~
and not disturb the winter's dream.
Sweet violets share your purple hue.
Tiptoe 'cross the emerald view.
Amid your petal's scented breath
now winter sleeps ~ in nature's depth.
Morning glory do be strong
and when the sunrise comes along ~
nod your head with lullabyes
upon the bed where winter lies.
Sweet peas and forget-me-nots
planted in those bedded spots ~
don't giggle cause you're in full bloom.
If winter wakes ~ 'twill be our doom.
Beneath spring sun ~ may winter rest.
Sleeping deep in garden's nest.
Alas, sweet warmth flows warm and mild ~
awaiting now sweet summer's child.
poem by Hazelmarie Elliott
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Beneath The Skin
Beneath the Skin a caustic red river
Beneath the Skin corrosive abuser
Beneath the Skin genetic in rupture
Beneath the Skin all cold and hungered
Beneath the Skin a still born forgiveness
Beneath the Skin cell transfer in whispers
Beneath the Skin a lover cries murder
Beneath the Skin all cold and hungered
Beneath the Skin i wasted this moment
Beneath the Skin old undiscovered
Beneath the Skin another lies ruptured
Beneath the Skin all cold and hungered
song performed by by Queen Adreena
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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P r a i s e
Whatever that you think you lack – give that! ’ –
this saying, heard, lodged in my mind a space;
like seed that hides in earth – yet not inert:
its hidden clock an instrument of grace;
the mind, the soil, that meanwhile, does not know:
it neither knows what lies in its embrace,
nor its own precious nutrients which grow
this seed; nor sees the Sower, nor His grace –
until one day, when in some Spring of light,
I realised: I, meanly, denied – praise:
the praise of human beings in my sight;
and thus, the praise of that One source of praise..
so sought occasion, each and All to praise;
now Praise, with golden hand, seeds all my days.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The Flower~
THE FLOWER
Have you wondered?
Wondered how I came about..
It was by the seed
The seed that got life!
Seed that is fed day and night
Fed with fertility and water
It took me a while...
A while to start merging
Merging from the womb
The womb of the earth
The womb that covers all
The womb that people step on
Made of dust, soil maybe sand
Merging out to see the light
Fresh air and sun light
Yes, I was first a seed then a plant
A plant that grew with colors
Grew tall and higher
Grew higher trying to reach the sky
I wasn't building a tower
Or try to gain any power
It was just me the flower
The flower that has color
The colors of my superpower
The colors that can be any talent
The colors that illuminate as sun rises
Yes! ! I am the flower
The flower that creates balance of power
The power that exists in life
More specific the balance in nature
Take me well...
Take me as you flower!
And let your eyes empower
Empower what nature offer as ours
For this earth We walk
I try not to be anxious
or over sentimental
i try not to be jealous
there where i can spell
Spill no golden footprint
on a milky road
on a muddy good print
lies a golden load
For this earth we walk
endures us with compassion
so pass it on yes talk
make tolerance our fashion
That it gave us a chance
in carrying by giving
and moves us into dance
so gifted 'we are living'!
poem by Madrason writer
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The Youthful Season
Akin to scent
Is the air I breathe,
Our feathered friends
Follow the plough,
And into the womb
Of mother earth
Is set the seed which is
The bread of man,
Prefect of nature's realm.
In these my winter years
I let the windows
Of my soul gaze upon
The herald of summer:
Sweet spring,
Creative spring -
Spring the season of youth!
poem by Liam ó Comáin
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The Sower
Beneath the mild sun vanish the vapor's last wet traces,
And for the autumn sowing the mellow soil lies steeping;
The stubble fires have faded and ended is the reaping;
The piercing plow has leveled the rough resisting places.
The solitary sower along the brown field paces--
Two steps and then a handful, a rhythmic motion keeping;
The eager sparrows follow, now pecking and now peeping.
He sows; but all the increase accomplished by God's grace is.
And whether frost be fatal or drought be devastating,
The blades rise green and slender for spring-time winds to flutter,
As time of golden harvest the coming fall awaiting.
None see the silent yearnings the sower's lips half utter,
the carping care he suffers, distressing thoughts creating.
With steady hand he paces afield without a mutter.
poem by Carmen Sylva
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Don’t be an uprooted Tree
Seed is sown and the embryo is formed
Legitimate or not, radicle develops into root
Root penetrates into the surface of the soil
Absorbs water and food, turns seed into plant
Inherits the culture of the earth beneath.
It’s in root science that, it moves in
Right direction to fetch the exact need.
Stem gives the support and balance to stand
Branches form the vitality of the plant
Leaves prepare the food to survive
Bearing even odds the plant grows into tree.
As long as deep roots embraces mother earth
The tree shows confidence and attracts.
Location and depth are the might of the tree
Flower, fruit, shade, firm soil, H2O and CO2
Vary from tree to tree, but all owe to root
Never there is an existence beyond this means.
Still human trees surrender under the pressures
Try to get uprooted from the surface and means
Hoping for better flower, fruit, soil and breeze
Truth is, an uprooted tree, a timber, put to ablaze.
-vidi-
22-04-08
poem by Vidi Writes
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To Each a Season
Summer kisses Winter's Hands
thereby warming them
as she takes her hair
and wraps him
in the midst of the blowing gale;
her arms reach out
to his icy branches
giving a spark to each sleeping bud
awaking each from its frozen winter encasement.
But Winter's Heart
is cold indeed
whispering to her in her ministrations
'I am Winter and Winter is my fate;
from my icy cradle
Spring is born
and I must not miss her birth.'
Summer was angry.
'Am I not more fair than she?
Have I not given you solace
in your icy retreat?
Have I not offered you much more than she?
If I withdraw my succorings
where would you be? '
'I would' Winter said
'Winter be.'
With that Summer took her Golden Hair
threw it back upon her beautiful shoulders
asking herself 'Where is the gratitude? '
Winter reached with his thin cold fingers
uttering,
'Summer is too warm for me because without
my wild blizzard face I lose my Winter Grace and Winter's dignity-
becoming only melting ice;
discarded slush
snow-flake crushed
and I would wander
my melting realm
and seep into muddy ground,
gone.'
'I understand' Summer said
'Spring, when you put it that way
seems a better bride for you since
she kisses your icy buds
slowly bringing them to blossoming
and I would perhaps apply too much heat
too soon;
they would be born flower wilted
'I understand, ' she said
flying away
'yet I am still sad.'
Below
Winter held his arms high
to welcome
the smell of
Springs breezes
not knowing
Summer in coming to him
had sacrificed her own season
and lay dead
beneath Winter's snow
unknown to him;
because indeed her love was so great
she had given up
her own Summer season.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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On A Sunny Hot Summer Day (English Sonnet)
On a sunny hot summer day
your cheeks did in rosebuds glow
the last blossoms of spring was swept away
and fruit trees did their bounty show
a mere glance was full of romance
and a warm light was in your golden eyes,
a simple brilliant smile did your face enhance
and I knew that true beauty lies
hidden deep in the heart, that in you
I have found someone that is really kind
and that whatever I say or do
somehow my presence fills your mind
while my heart does in yours dwell
which does in kindness and love excel.
poem by Gert Strydom
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