growth poems

Circumlocution | Kathy J. Anderson

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Ancestors Of old times
Time their visits to me,
In dreams and visions wake,
Awake me to the spirits I seek,
Seeking to renew life,
Living for tomorrow…

Tomorrow begins new
Newly wishing I’m free
Freely speaking my heart
Heartfully making songs
Sung inside this souls place
Placing it in life’s view…

Viewing the chaos realms
A realm where change blossoms
Blooming with new vigor
Vigorously starting,
The starts growing right up
Upward summer burgeons…

Burgeoning words blowing
Blown by winds directions
Directly unbind air
Airily circulates
To circumnavigate
Cirrus highs and fogs lows.

Pruning | JD DeHart

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Earth gives only so much
and does not always cooperate.
We gather and steam
and work and regale each
other with stories. Meanwhile,
a single emerald winks
from the dull ground, then becomes
another and another
until life pushes forward, sliding
aside our doubtful sands
and mournful pebbles.
A new life, a new garden
begins with that single stem
suddenly, exultantly budding.

Comatose Plants | Mary Bone

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Plants are bedded down
for the winter.
frost bites their toes.
They are waiting for the sunlight
when everything begins to grow.
Comatose until the tarp is pulled back.
growth begins with the first
drip of moisture.

And Yet | M Spear

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And yet one day
we will become more
knowing, more so than we
are now, always moving
to the ideal, not
chained to the same
stone surface.
Yet but not yet,
yet is a powerful word.

Rome in a Day | Edgar Law

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They say Rome wasn’t
built in a day, which may
explain some of the cracks
in my foundation.
Please be patient while I’m
under this construction.

Guitar Man | Chris Byrne

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The music was serene in a way,
He ripped the guitar apart
Until his fingers bled
And as the guitar howled
In pain, he heard riffs like never
Before; his fingers were moving
So fast as he was hitting
High notes, he only
Dreamt of years
Ago when he
Got his first
Guitar.

Shatters | JD DeHart

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Do not be so brittle
and unrelenting
in this world, do not
mold yourself after flint
or limestone.
Such a life only erodes
in time’s waters
it eventually shatters.
Practice forgiveness like
an art, weave it, paint
it, apply it liberally.

Friend | Aritrik Dutta Chowdhury

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Every time you grow,
And flap your wings,
And still remember me
With glee —
I realize I still have people
To count on,
To keep faith,
And call friends.
I recall the quirky girl
Shivering and crying,
Now adept to face falsities
And yet strong enough to
Hold her own,
And just be her own self.

Worth a World | Troy Cabida

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You wear skin once soft,
now steel shining, adorned in scars
that tell a story you don’t need to explain.
In whispers
they’ll talk about how much you’ve grown,
how many battles you’ve dived into and won,
how high you’re flying,
soaring from all the obscurity,
because now
every piece of earth you step on
can become yours, so choose to be luminous,
you’re worth the world.
Now you can sleep, feed, give yourself
peace, all the time to heal
and hear yourself again.
Hold on tight, embrace yourself because
you’re worth the whole world.

More at http://www.troycabida.wordpress.com.

My Little Little Nose | Ananya S. Guha

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I have begun,
advent into journey
now my life’s tourney,
a game, why blame
people and friends
rascals, fiends
the journey began
precisely at home,
took time off and read tomes, then took to writing
up and down
in my little shanty town
and, as rains kept on pouring I took to life
in its whirlpool of suffering
amidst all the rife.
All the broken bones I saw
while some laughed ha-ha. This is poetry, that is prose, I
exclaimed, under, my little little
nose.

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