A Guide to Fertile Gardens

January 4, 2012
By Philosophication GOLD, McKinney, Texas
Philosophication GOLD, McKinney, Texas
12 articles 3 photos 24 comments

Favorite Quote:
"This above all: To thine own self be true."
William Shakespeare's Hamlet

"To be old and wise, you must first be young and stupid."
Miscellaneous


As the waters of rain fertilize the earth’s womb
Let my words fertilize the fields of your mind
Into something beautiful

It matters not what comes of it
The rain is content with watering a daffodil as much as a lily
A moss or ivy

Plough your minds, ready them for ideas
But do not plant
Allow the ideas to float on the breeze to you

Tend the seeds
Pull the weeds of naysayers, but be gentle
The naysayer weeds are ideas as well

Do not water by yourself
Let the rain of other’s words nourish
Let the sunlight of other’s actions nurture

Reap what has been sown, but have patience
Ideas are slow to fruit and easy to bruise
Tug gently, or it is shorn in two

And all the while, nourish other minds
Let the rain fall freely
And the sun shine brightly

But dare not buffet like a hurricane
It damages the ideas
It weakens the soil
It destroys the garden

Do not fight about another’s garden
There truly is nothing to fight about

Don’t fight over gods
For the Sun rises and sets
And will do so for eons
The rain falls freely over lands of all gods

It matters not who causes the sun’s migration
Or the rains fall
Only that it does

And is the garden of a black man any different than mine?
They are both sheltered by flesh and by blood
His only different
Because his forefathers felt the sun’s kiss
Far more severely than mine

And we have a duty to the Great Garden
That of Earth’s fertile womb
Which is poisoned by acid rain and acid words
Damaged by the sun’s rays and the son’s rage

The mother who bore us all
Who fed us from her bosom
And we repay her by making her bare?
Making her unable to feed her children
Both hers and ours

And yet she still loves us
She still provides her black blood
Provides her golden bones
Provides her jewelled eyes

Should we not return the love?
Make the mother a mother again
Repair our damage

For once she grows tired
Of the human’s wars and words
She will shake us off her back
Like a dog shaking off fleas

Heal the Great Garden
Heal our gardens

Heal our gardens
Heal ourselves

Heal ourselves, and never have need
For guns and bombs and killing

No need for words
Like “Asian” or “black” or “white”
Only “human”

And all humans, nurturing their gardens
Nurturing other’s gardens
Nurturing our mother’s gardens

An endless cycle of birth and death
And rebirth and redeath
Until the sun burns out
Some distant day

Only to be reborn again
To give rise to a new Earth
A new people
A new garden



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This article has 1 comment.


on Jan. 31 2012 at 5:07 pm
MidnightWriter SILVER, Ontario, Other
6 articles 0 photos 225 comments

Favorite Quote:
Writers are a less dangerous version of the career criminal. Everywhere they go, they see the potential for the perfect crime. The difference is that writers have better self control.

There are a lot of ideas and concepts squeezed into this poem. It almost seems a little overwhelming. Perhaps you could take each of your concepts and place them in a poem of their own, so that they can receive the attention they deserve. It's a great piece.




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