[x]

LonelyI look at the stars
Hoping to see something
Looking back at me.

But its just echoes
Of dead and dying
Suns and worlds.

Nothing's listening,
Nothing's speaking,
Nothing really cares.

There is no design,
No grand plans to
Make the universe spin.

There's only darkness,
Suffocating and cold,
Consuming the light.

Resting In NatureGreen leaves, soft wind,

The gentle whisper of the breeze.

Frogs croak, Birds sing,

The water reflects the warmth of the Sky.

Calm breathing, light sighing,

The boy and the girl lie calmly in the grass.

Midday Mildness, Soft shade,

Trees provide the greatest shields.

Light shifting, kind yawning,

The Lovers stir in their sleep.

A summer day to never forget.

A nature orchestra providing the lightest music.

A day shared, Hands linked,

The lovers sleep in peace.

You always tell me the same storyHe's in love with a scene from the winter
that occurs on a trip to Washington,
when the dark is constant and the trees jog
like legends alongside the highway;

as his eyes fall half-sleep but his senses remain
taut and vigilant, sweating on the wheel,
pitching nerve to the sound of branches cracking,
bristling under his wind-torn jacket;

the time of evening when the sunset rests
at its very highest, bright and sudden as Heaven,
an aureate glow around the birdsongs,
the stench of roadkill muted by a golden frost;

a taste of nirvana,
an instruction of faith,
the blatant existence of God,

lost as soon as he rounds the bend.

On days like thisOn days like this,
I like to think
About just how lucky I am.

How lucky I am
To have food
And a roof over my head.

How lucky I am
To have a beating heart
And air in my lungs.

How I lucky I am
To even have been born.
Imagine...

Out of every sperm and egg,
And every unknown miscarriage,
I survived. We all did.

That in itself is amazing.
Then add on that life itself
Is amazing and wonderful.

How many systems
Must work in tandem
To keep me alive?

If one single DNA strand
Were to replicate wrong
My life would be irreparably damaged.

If my temperature is off
By just the variance between in and out,
I die.

These things astound me.
Every c

RandomSiren sing me that beautiful
song of love, death and tragedy.
of war that was outplaced by love
are other things. Oh siren sing me
that song that has kept you singing,
the song that kept you breathing, the
song that every man, woman and child
would like to hear.

Wishing for WingsI was born a caterpillar...
Plump and cute and green.
You might think it would be great,
But that was not my dream!

Every day the birds came
The prettiest of things.
Though they want to eat me,
I can't help but watch those wings!

Every night I wish
On the first star in the sky
Please oh please just give me
Wings so I can fly!

In the morning I'd wake up
And through the trees I'd climb...
If I had wings I wouldn't crawl,
A dumb inch at a time.

I never stopped the wishing,
I never gave up hope...
Then happened this strange thing...
Did not think I could cope!

All the sky still left to see...
And mother tells me "Dear,"
"It's time for you t

Morning CallMorning Call
Sudden shower
Lying half-awake in bed
The soft, tender form of my darling touching me
To my delight, the trill of the bugle
The tumult of the rifles
Had been stilled by the rain
The only sound i heard
Through the soft, quiet swish of my fan
Was the soft and silent swish of the late summer rain
I lay in bed to listen
Until 9 AM

The Song of the WolfEnlighten me, moon
For your beauty gives me strength
Enlighten me, stars
For your vastness across the sky gives me freedom
Enlighten me, earth
For your energy gives me life
Enlighten me, universe
For I am the Great Wolf

This Strange LandThis strange land

Where the breeze kisses my skin
And runs its cool fingers
Through my hair.

Where the long grass ripples
Against the wind
Like the gentle waves of a sea.

This strange land

Where the trees stand tall and mighty
With arms reaching over the gravel path
As if attempting to grab me.

Where the pines huddle closely together
Whispering amongst each other
In a language I do not understand.

This strange land

Where the sweet voices of birds
Paint the wind
With vivacious tunes

Where a heartbeat is heard
From within the earth
Vigorous, spirited

And alive.

My Mother's Day Gift: A Story of a MotherThis Is a Story of a mother, a mother of humble orgins who toiled hard under the hot Dominican Sun as a poor farm girl.
Armed with a dream she moved to America with hopes for a better life.
With great ambition she worked hard in school and and worked hard in employment. During that time she found the man of her dreams, one who shares her own.
They marry and supported each other in their quest to make their dreams come true. Both working in between school.
Soon they had a child, to embody their dreams. Even with death threatening to take their child their resolve and will was unwavering. Through prayer and faith their child lived.
The mother continued her work in school and soon graduated. She soon got a job that gave her family the edge to advance in society and not know poverty.
This mother became mentor, confidante, friend, and parent to what became her children. Because of her wisdom and guidance, she now has a child in college, her eldest a graduate, a

ReptileBy design, I survive hiding, quiet;
carnivorous.
I am my fangs, or my claws, or my muscle;
alien from accepted.

Please, do not forget,
my cold blood seeks heat.

The softness of scales surprises the skin
of ignorant fingers.

light is dark and dark is lightHave you eaten from the fruits of insanity?
have you not yet bitten into the bitter sweet fruit of sins that lay upon truth?
or are you still living in the safety of a lye,
for I have moved on
while you are still hiding in the blackness of the day
I am bathing under the light of the shade
and though you are blind by the hellish suns rays
I can see
So I will take you by the hand and lead your wandering soul down the proper path of darkness
not the path of son and truth but the path of lies death and gloom
for this is the path of safty
this path was built for you...

Let Loose.
She's ripping her jeans off at the thighs.Pulling out her hemp flip flops.
Bikinis under tank tops are tied.Preparing for the heat of summer.
She dances with the breeze, and runs to the sea. With a free laugh in she jumps.
Waves crash overhead, but she knows how to tread the trails of this old friend.
That girl is on the loose again.
Bare skin on sand, shoes dangle in hand. Her hair dripping with salt water.
She falls on the beach and looks at her feet. White sand is coating like sugar.
She lays her head back and starts to relax,to the sounds of her soothing ocean.
Breathing in the scent of salt drying on sun warmed skin.
That

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About a gardener

by ~bardicfrog, Jun 8, 2010, 5:50:06 AM
Literature / Poetry / Nature / Free Verse

The man of hortus,
He has Earth caught beneath his fingernails.
His eye on the seed,
Weed
And indeed the hoe.

His gardens give him bramble to climb through,
His human life has given him barbed wire.

Yet he has climbed through both.

Yet no scratch he bears,
Unscathed as unploughed soil.

To you and me,
He's a grower of crop and fayre.
The ploughshare,
To be fair,
You owe this man a debt.

The soil he knows
He knows for you and I.
For you and I know no soil
As he does.

A secret life he has with her.
Embraced he is,
Upon her fertility,
From which all else comes forth.

A weaver of incantation.
Self initiated
To become the nurturer –
Is his path along the garden way.

Although such a way as this
Can be named,
The true way is nameless.
It is the source
Into which all our rivers flow.

Entrusted,
he is
with our vegetables to become.
And no poison
We beg him,
No poison for the Earth,
Our lady.
And he listens,
The dew glistens,
The ground he christens
With a song of seed
And poems of water.

About a gardenerby ~bardicfrog

Literature / Poetry / Nature / Free Verse

This is about a very close friend, who is a keen organic gardener. I just think he's great and lives a life close to the natural world in such a way that I think should be told through a poem.

love 1 1

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*UmaNHamU Jan 28, 2012 Traditional Artist

I really love this poem, it brought me back to my grand parents (sadly long passed) he: a dairy farmer and she: the gardener growing food for the table. I spent many long days at her side pulling weeds and occasionally NOT Weeds, oops... Thanks for bringing back those memories.

~bardicfrog Jan 28, 2012 Hobbyist

Wow, I'm really pleased you got so much from the poem. Thanks for sharing that with me. You're most welcome for the memories...

~xinsomniakydx Jun 8, 2010 Student General Artist

Hello dear

Your wonderfully written poem is found here [link]

Thanks for sharing it with us, it was a pleasure to read it

I hope you don't mind.. (:

~bardicfrog Jun 9, 2010 Hobbyist

Hiya there,

of course I don't mind, I'm glad you liked the poem!!

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About a gardener

About a gardenerby ~bardicfrog

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