By Leah Naomi Green
Take all summer,
your ember from the sun,
its walking meditation. Store it in small
vaults of light to …
your ember from the sun,
its walking meditation. Store it in small
vaults of light to …
Explore Poems: Gardening
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- 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 Osip MandelstamToo 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 Nikki WallschlaegerMy fav event as harvest season approaches
is the rough seed that escaped the plots.
If there’s a cornfield adjacent to another bed
of vegetables, you can count on imperfection,
you can see stalks standing where they’re
not supposed to be, the winds have ideas,
seeds... - 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... - 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... - By Karenne WoodWhen I learned I might have cancer,
I bought fifteen white lilies. Easter was gone:
the trumpets were wilted, plants crooked with roots
bound in pots. I dug them into the garden,
knowing they would not bloom for another year.
All summer, the stalks stood... - By Tacey M. AtsittyJust when he thought to loom the backyard for bud &
Just when he came to admire, or thought to dote over
Already he rues stick-thin arms, whose petals brave the late
Whose middles freeze; we’ve gone without
All ramose till now, empty skirts... - By Kiki PetrosinoI’ll conjure the perfect Easter
& we’ll plant mini spruces in the yard—
my pink gloves & your green gloves
like parrots from an opera over the earth—
We’ll chatter about our enemies’ spectacular deaths.
I’ll conjure the perfect Easter
dark pesto sauce sealed with lemon
long...