By Frank X Walker
All believers know about the power of water
though not enough about the power of dirt.
My mama used…
though not enough about the power of dirt.
My mama used…
Explore Poems: Gardening
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- By Andy ChenOn my sixth day of Covid I venture
with tea, a notebook, and the last of the peaches
out back to our… - By Frank X WalkerIndian summer Saturday mornings
meant project door screens sat open
waiting for the vegetable truck
No … - By Jessica AbughattasNeighbors
pass, two lines of smoke
in hooded sweatshirts,
from the sober living house
next door, as I stand in the front yard
watering dirt.
I ask little of the garden—
mere inspiration—working
my shovel into bare earth.
While witnesses in neckties
carry scriptures, county sheriff
circles the block.
A couple fights
in... - By Natasha Raolusting and unafraid. In this bipedal incarnation
I have always been scared of my own ripening,
mother standing outside the fitting room door.
I only become bright after Bloody Mary’s, only whole
in New Jersey summers where beefsteaks, like baubles,
sag in the yard, where... - By Tim Tim Chengfrom the soil
We make our son. From the soil we make our son biscuits. From the soil we make our son biscuits stored in ceramic bowls. From the soil we make our son biscuits stored in ceramic bowls made with... - By Osip MandelstamTranslated By Peter FranceToo black, too much indulged, living in clover,
all little withers, all air, all charity,
all crumbling, all massing in a choir—
damp clods of soil, my land and liberty...
With early plowing it is black to blueness,
and unarmed labor here is glorified—
a thousand... - By Jesús Papoleto MeléndezIf some nice person
Were to be walking by the front of my house
and would pick a flower from the breasts
of my small garden,
I would notice every single one that would be missing.
I would be able to notice their long necks... - By Khaty XiongHere at my parents’ farm
trumpeting bees scoring in the ears
of all flowerkind
chilies and kabocha
3,400 searing stakes
of Indian bitter melon
Nkauj Hnub in her hot prison
... - By Arvind Krishna Mehrotra1
Close to each other,
socially undistanced,
the mulberry leaves,
uniformly green,
shall turn brown together.
It’s like a herd dying.
2
Firm to begin with,
the mud clod
could’ve injured you.
It crumbles in your hand.
3
In the heap of dead
leaves crinkly as
brown skins, those
breathing things
foraging around
the bamboo stand
are jungle babblers.
4
It... - By James McMichaelThe Artichoke
She bore only the heart,
Worked at the stem with her
Fingers, pulling it to her,
And into her, like a cord.
She would sustain him,
Would cover his heart.
The hairy needles
And the bigger leaves,
These she licked into shape,
Tipping each with its point.
He is... - By Marion McCreadyA Mardi Gras of primroses line my driveway.
Pin-eyed, thrum-eyed, natural selection in action;
the carnival of primroses grow in number daily.
Every spring they perform street theater, they perform
the Easter story with beads, feathers, and leather tongues.
Yellow vests, they agitate against the... - By Sylvia Legris
part 1. uprooted the early sky
1
Luminous flowers and luminous insects. Fire lilies and fireflies. Heat confined on the Earth by the Air. Evening star in the low west. Northern flickers, starlings, phosphorus and August.
Perseids seed the 3b hardiness zone. A... - By Alyse KnorrBetween us bobs the baby, solemn in her infant wet suit.
The pool is the only place where
screaming does not indicate terror.
The neighbor’s pansy beds—O to lie down in those beds
and doze. Greener than grass, says Sappho,
originator of envy.
My... - By Carolyn GuinzioNeighbor, your mower
cast dust over the edge
where the field meets
the field, toy-sized ring-
necked snakes halved
and flattened by blades
among blades, and now
our things are mingled.
What do you covet
that is mine? Chigger-
riddled passion
blooms, a glint
of beetles loitering
under their anther eaves,
a car idling... - By Susan StewartWho are you? Where are you hiding?
Were you thrown,
tumbling through space,
aleatory,
radiant, only
... - By Divya VictorWe are on our knees. We are saying that the tulips have had it hard this week.
- By John KinsellaPollination against the seed to grow canopy
and mark place in shades of green—dry here to reflect
in glassine quartz chips in the off-red dirt where trees tree
as the forest is difference there green-inflected light you nurtured far
where volcanic would give name... - By Fanny HoweMonostich: a long sentence
Sternum: a little chest
Heart: upside down
Location of the unconscious:
Empty window seat
Horizon: gone at night
Thought: given
Prison: a perversion
—
Our earth can’t live without holy rites.
You can see this from the sky.
Lots of hills to climb up and down.
A straight...- Related Audio
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- + 14 more
- By Sylvia Legris1
A pepper of bees opens the pupils.
An ensemble of aromatics
Chorus aphrodisia, mariner’s root,
bright sky and night star, heavenly
rainbow. Amethyst, azure, blue
flower-de-luce. Flowering ring.
•
White archangelic the bee nettle,
the dead nettle. A hide of nettle cloth,
of finely-nerved sedge. Take heed
the edges, the...