Welcome to Poetic Bloomings! - New visitors are encouraged to check this link for information about Poetic Bloomings. Thank you for joining our "Garden Walk."

Sunday, May 1, 2011


Every garden starts with a seed. A small part of the big picture; a beginning. And so we begin at Poetic Bloomings.

The prompt for this Sunday reflects that idea. Write a "seed" poem. It could literally be a seed of a plant, of an idea that sparks a greater effort. It could be the beginning of a life, or whatever you feel would be the start of something big. Get started. That's a beginning in itself.

** Marie Elena's poem:


One edges, tidies, snips, and trims,
Who knows nothing of dreams and whims.

One scatters dandelion seeds,
Who understands a daydream’s needs.

By Marie Elena

(Dedicated to our mutual friend, *Jerry Walraven [“Chev”], who knows of dandelion fluff and other whimsical wonders. Chev, we are gravely sorry for your loss, and pray for God’s healing comfort.)

** Walt's poem:


Hearts ablaze in an unquenchable fire.
It is desire of the highest power.
It has been left to burn unattended.

It was a cold ember, a lump of coal
sparked with the excitement of a single touch.
Now burning brightly; love inflamed

by Walt Wojtanik.

Happy poeming to all, and enjoy this "Garden Walk" with us today, every Sunday, and continuing throughout the week.


  1. Congratulations on your combined efforts! I wish you success that can only be destined to grow. We are moving my mother-in-law into a new assisted living apartment today, so I won't have time to write a new seed poem this morning. I will try to post again later, but until then, please enjoy this poem: The Seed. It is from my book: Magnetic Repulsion. Enjoy.

    The Seed

    it started small
    that tiny seed
    a speck
    in the palm of my hand
    dropped to the ground
    like dirt
    onto a magnetic field
    sparked with life
    that plugs into the earth
    and sunsets marked
    the time that passed
    with rain like tears
    that wept
    then wispy emergence
    of a slim tendril twisting
    climbing hair-like thread
    around and around
    attaching to the support
    and winding
    like something warped
    turning, bending
    deeply entwined now
    like a spiral twisting
    two ribbons of smoke
    curved into their tendency
    to grow together
    ringlets and wood shavings
    crests of breaking waves
    maneuvering through the helix
    looping through the vortex
    a sinuous whirlpool
    of lust
    even with
    your ring on mine
    that succubus
    has you tightly wrapped
    around her little finger

  2. Wonderful poems and prompt to begin our blooming.

    Pensive Gardener

    Tilled earth cool and loose beneath her feet,
    sun massaging her freckled shoulders,
    an empty canvas awaiting her.
    She weighs the seeds in her palm,
    searching for the perfect place to begin
    sowing her spring masterpiece.

  3. Was gonna take a poetry hiatus today, but apparently cannot resist a prompt. ;)
    A deeply rooted congratulations on this fun new venture, to two of my favorite poetic souls.


    She frees them to breeze
    these last fragments of herself
    loosed to westward wind
    fully broken
    wholly known.

    She recaptures the seeds
    roots them deeply in truth
    heart’s pieces released
    both mended
    and sown.

    I am:

  4. Ooops. Thought my name would show up, since I "subscribed" as me. "Whimsy Gizmo" is De Jackson. :)

  5. So excited to see this project sprout! Thanks Walt & Marie for putting it together!


    Like a tiny speck, this mustard seed
    lay small and silent on my palm,

    waiting silently to be chosen, to be
    buried in cool dark earth, silent

    and waiting for my hand to thrust
    it deep in a tomb, there to sleep

    soundly until the sun calls for it,
    till rain washes away its slumber,

    until roots burst forth, contained
    no longer by a shell, not so silently

    reaching further into earth, until
    stem bursts through hard ground

    reaching skyward to the sun, until
    this tiny speck, this mustard seed

    matures into solid trunk, reaching
    ever sunward, a monument to

    perseverance, bearing fruit of
    struggle and flower of tears, with

    flourishing branches and strong
    as rock, unmovable as mountain-

    this tiny speck, this mustard seed,
    that lay dormant in my palm.

  6. This is a beautiful blog, Walt and Marie! I look forward to participating and will be back.


  7. Out walking in the weeds today. Great new venture - looking forward to the blooms ahead!


    New lime green sneakers
    Hum happily beside me
    Chasing dandelions.
    White seeds scatter in the breeze
    Irrepressible. Like her.

  8. Forgive me. I really wanted to contribute something uplifting... No real "serious" trouble, just parenting woes. Thank you for this beautiful, blooming blog you two!!


    She longs to write pretty words
    but the seed of hurt in her heart
    has planted a lump in her throat.
    No matter how much water she drinks
    or how hard she swallows
    will not remove itself.
    She must be listening
    to the wrong people,
    must be drinking
    the wrong water.

  9. Whew! I was afraid I'd have to go cold turkey. Gratitude abounds.


    not all seeds are like the maple
    swirling in masses
    germinating with carney barker ease
    and profligate spenders
    teenage girls with more credit cards than pennies
    oh, look

    some only respond to coaxing
    warm the soil
    like hatching eggs
    __or sprained ankles
    __wrapped, propped, cosseted
    __hot water bottles,
    __microwaved buckwheat hulls
    for day after day,
    not too (much) (little) water
    some will not open in the light,
    --bashful as shy boys--
    or the dark when foul deeds are done

    yet others, thriving on judicious mutilation,
    keep for one or one thousand winters
    expecting to wait out the generation before, sleeping
    until their protective youth has worn away or been
    burned by rioting fires, or acid intestines; etched off.
    watch as the sheen on a red bucket is cut by sand corners,
    and imagine a nascent redbud tree

    when you came out of the chute raring to get on with it
    he, incapable of imbibition, watched his shell change
    and hoped to survive the process.

  10. Happy Sunday evening to you! I am truly going to try -- HARD -- to avoid commenting out here very often, but I just HAVE to say three things:

    1. Thank you so, so much for joining Walt and me in this venture, and for the wonderful seeds you've already planted.

    2. Patricia, you've started us out with pure excellence! Thank you!

    3. Sweet Hannah, I can't stand the thought of you being the least bit unhappy. :( May God comfort and encourage you, big time. Hugs across cyberspace...

  11. Receiving those kind and comforting hugs, Marie. Thank you. So I just came back to apologize and acknowledge that I've broken the 1st and the 11th rules and all on the 1st day! I pledge that from now on I'll be a happy poster. Teehe. Picturing me as a big 'ol flattened out "poster?" Me too! Any way I do mean that I'll keep it on the + + side! Big warm smiles and blessings all @ !

  12. See the way the world still turns
    Even though you’d thought it’d stop?
    Every day the holes in your pockets
    Drop the seeds that grow into tomorrow.

  13. I have been known to
    stash my chapbooks at
    Barnes and Noble, among
    the so-called real books,
    priced "$free" or "$none" or
    "steal this book, please".
    I do this with
    a smirk and a smile,
    a regular Danny Zen-seed.

    congratulations on this new birth...na tou ekatostiseis...may you have 100 years!

  14. Daniel! I LOVE it! I have yet to put out a chapbook, but my background is advertising/marketing, and I had already planned to do this! :)

  15. How fun! Count me in!

    A Poem

    A seed of an idea
    Planted in the soil of experience
    Watered with Wisdom
    And growing in the sunshine of the Spirit

  16. I'm happy to see such a good early response. It is a pleasure to host such a wonderful group of talented people for this pursuit we have undertaken. These are all quality pieces. Thanks for joining in, and we have a lot planned for "Poetic Bloomings" as we go along. Spread the word!


  17. This is all I could muster up today, but I am so happy about this new blog!

    It All Starts With This

    Seed by seed a garden grows
    Note by note a symphony flows
    Word by word a masterpiece shows
    Breath by breath a life bestows


  18. the other

    rough, cold dormancy
    nurtures form into life
    sunshine and freezing rain
    in the tundra where
    weed and rose are
    equally nourished


  19. Uncle Walt and Mother Marie, let me first say how greatful I am that you started this new venue for all of us. It has such a wonderful family to it, and I wish it all my best as it moves forward. With that, here is my first offering:

    Brave Little Seedling

    Come little seedling, Adrift in the wind.
    So full of potential, so quiet you fly.
    Mere little seedling, potential enshrined.
    Alone in the night, on this your first flight.

    Come little seedling, do you know who you are?
    A bright little flower, A fruit bearing bush?
    To brighten our spring, with pollen give life? Or feed us in winter, give shade in the heat?

    Held soft in my hand, connected by heart.
    Are we really so different, this seedling and I?
    Each full of potential, drifting through time.
    Waiting in fullness, to be who we are.

    Let feet touch the ground, our roots bury deep.
    Drink water below us, feel sunlight above.
    Don’t fight it or force it, just be who we are.
    Brave little seedlings, are such wonderful things.

  20. Hannah, though like Marie, I hate to see such a radiant beam of sunlight as yourself in sorrow, beauty can be found in the strangest places, even our pain, and your poem was indeed beautiful.

    Daniel, that's great, I love it :-)

    And to all of you who have posted, simply wonderful!

  21. Thank you Marie Elena and Walt for this venue to plant our words...and (for newbies like me) to GROW. I was already going through withdrawals from PA / NaPoWriMo...so I'm grateful for another avenue ("street") to wander...

    Here's my response to your prompt:

    a seed once hidden
    now planted, being nurtured
    and watered daily

    2011-05-01 10:48 p.m.
    P. Wanken

    Paula Wanken

  22. Beautiful blog. Here's my offering:


    Soil under fingernails
    disrupts the earthworm.
    Seeds are scattered and buried.
    Sunshine and water brings to
    life the bright blue petals
    with a butter yellow center.

  23. After the April PAD, I didn't think I had it in me to do one more. Thanks to Walt and Marie Elena for the lovely site.

    A Life of Their Own

    We bury unwanted words
    To forget them.
    But in the dark
    Is stubborn growth,
    Unseen movement
    Pushing toward
    The surface.
    Though no witness
    May ever see
    Their beauty,
    They bloom
    In secret gardens
    Without promise,
    If only
    For the lonely
    Sake of extravagance.

  24. Hello, Marie and Walt! This is a great place! Definitely, I will be participating.
    Glad to see a new project!

  25. This is a terrific idea - thanks guys!


    a tiny seed was planted
    a germ of an idea
    the beginnings…

    …recruits were called for
    motivation was low
    spirits were weak…

    badgering, nagging
    pleading for compliance…

    …the resistance failed
    the seed grow stronger
    the band was formed…

    … six short weeks
    never enough
    but shoots grew…

    .. and flourished
    the deadline set
    the party concert…

    … rapidly approaching
    time running out
    ready or not…

    …here we come
    not yet a gigging band
    just the seeds…

    …time will tell
    effort will bring
    the seeds fruition


  26. aaaaand.....they're ...........off!

  27. Dormant Seeds

    It’s not like me criticize.
    I only sit and fantasize.
    Of what’s to be or not to be…
    A single seed grows to a tree.

    I plant and nurture seeds each day.
    Good intentions washed away.
    Broken records cannot play.
    Dormant seeds left there to lay.

    There’s no turning back it seems.
    Broken records, broken dreams.
    Dormant seeds baked in the sun.
    Love is lost, nothing won.

    by Michael Grove

  28. Tim, thank you greatly for your kind words.

    I'm so blessed by this group. Thank you all for sharing expressions of yourselves through this gift that we share. I enjoyed reading them today. Smiles to everyone!


    Caring hands plant
    seeds of love.
    Hope grows wild
    where hurt once grew.



    Where weeds are concerned
    let them grow willy-nilly!
    Let clovers take over
    allow dandelions
    to have their day.
    Spaces that have traces
    of wildness will abound
    there will be found
    creation you never knew grew.
    Let the beast of a lawn mower
    rest his breath for awhile.
    There's lot to learn
    from the ways of Weedsdom.
    (And it's a good excuse
    to take a break from mowing)!



    In belly of beast
    a new Spirit grows.
    Thought and idea,
    letter and word,
    poem by poem;
    placed patiently
    into a new folder
    "Poetic Bloomings."


    Thank you again, you two!

  29. Looks like you've planted a beauty -- you go guys!

    After the April PAD, I DON'T have it in me to do another one so soon. Am currently in "slug mode", but didn't want to miss out on the chance to toss out my seeds, so... hope you don't mind that I'm adding a previously published poem instead. :-O This one seemed appropriate to the website you've created here, so... :-)


    Slice open a vein.
    Let the words flow out,
    unchecked, uncensored.
    Bleed until you run dry, then

    gather the gems
    like precious seeds, and
    toss them into the wind,

    never knowing
    where they may
    take root
    and grow.

  30. I know this is going to be something great; this site, not my poem.
    First Seed

  31. Sorry, that did not take my blog site where my poem lives. :)

  32. Hello, here is finally my piece:

  33. What a beautiful blog!

    Wonderful Works of Art * by Melissa~

    Lord, Your presence is so evident, in everything I see, like a gorgeous golden sunrise, or a gentle blowing breeze

    The flowers that bloom in Spring, are beautiful buds of life, giving off a fragrant scent, of absolute delight

    The birds seem to sing, such precious little songs, my heart becomes so joyful, I just have to sing along

    From the bottom of my heart, I give You all the praise, for all Your wonderful works of art, that surround me every day

  34. Still fried and not quite ready to post. May look for a "classic" one to share.

    You two make a dynamic duo of words!

    Great Idea!

  35. Just wondering- and I'm sure I'm not only one- is it acceptable to post comments here on other's comments (or poems), like we do over at PA?

  36. BRING IT ON! As the hosts, Walt and I will keep our comments to a bare minimum (much like P.A.'s Robert), but completely encourage all of you to ... well ... ENCOURAGE! =)

    Walt and I are thrilled with the response so far. LOVE this poetic community!

  37. P.S. We will post this week's "picks" sometime on Saturday (probably evening). I have to tell you, you are making it difficult for me to choose just one.

    Marie Elena

  38. I've wondered how long it would be before you created your very own site for poetic expression by poetic admirers of yours. Now I know.

    I'm glad you've finally taken the plunge. Congratulations and may many blessings follow.

    Inspiration's Seeds

    Rolling stones must have
    Glue to gather moss.
    Nature provides targets
    For lightning strikes to use.
    Grass grows only when
    Conditions are right.
    Man sees a sure image,
    And manufactures thought,
    Creates ideas,
    Plants those bright mental seeds,
    As history lessons.

    My own blog is at: http://claudsy.wordpress.com/
    I don't do poetry on my own site, but stop by anyway. You never know what you might find.

  39. This is a garden I think I will very much enjoy sitting in! Thank you to Walt and Marie Elena for creating this space and to all for cultivating it.

    "How Does Your Garden Grow?"

    Rolling the seeds in my hand
    I wonder should I scatter them?
    Or leave them to the wind and
    hope for a beautiful mess
    of wildflowers, like those that
    grow in highway medians?

    Peering into my palm
    I whisper, "or would you rather
    have ordered rows, organized
    by family and hue? Perhaps
    with seed packets staked in each
    row and never be without a name?

    Pinching a few between fingers
    I suggest a compromise, that we
    imitate the ordered chaos of the
    Romantics, with a capital R, even
    installing a hermit who would not tend
    you and over whose home you could take.

    Note: My blog is mainly about teaching, but I've navigated the link to a place where I sometime post my writing.

  40. Seed of Doubt

    The look I disturbed
    between the two of you
    planted enough doubt
    to make me crazy. I

    second guessed my trust
    of your friendship,
    with her past confession
    of attraction whispering

    for years in my ears.
    Then I found out she'd
    stayed the night, in your
    room while you slept

    on the floor. But I knew
    you and I knew her and I
    couldn't stand between
    that tension any longer.

    So we said goodbye, we
    three -- broken up for good.

    Also know as AC Leming...

  41. Balance In The Struggle

    Awareness ignites within me like a spark.
    Earths tears penetrating soft shelled defenses,
    connecting me to stony darkness and all beyond.
    Mother enfolding in her earthy grasp,
    Protecting, nourishing, smothering.
    Hold me tighter,
    let me go,
    balance in the struggle won.
    Growing stronger in her love,
    and in my tendriled resistance to that very love.
    I draw her in, whilst pushing her away
    in the eternal dance of life.
    Rooting myself deep,
    forever in the very soil I reach,
    pushing away with desperation.
    And in that epic struggle
    finding light,
    growing in power,
    and becoming.
    Reaching outward,
    drinking in the sun with broad green leaves.
    Chlorophyll wine feeling me with drunken delight,
    basking in the knowledge of what I have become,
    Product and provider,
    the freedom of connection to all.
    A fractal of the eternal plan,
    empowered in uniqueness
    by my connection to all.

  42. Finding you by happy accident, I rush to contribute two linked haiku.

    garnered in autumn,
    over-wintered in the fridge
    sown with hope in spring

    bathed in warm sunshine
    and a modicum of rain
    last year’s flowers re-born

  43. Thank you Maria Elena and Walt. May I?
    After my first PAD, I'm looking around for similar fun.


    Where are you going,
    tiny winged seed?
    You transplant yourself,
    hoping for utopia
    when, at best,
    you might land on
    pebbles and dirt
    and stay for enlightenment.

  44. Codicil

    A penny saved
    is a penny earned.
    Time that’s wasted
    is a lesson learned.

    But you can’t take it with you.
    Nor neither then can I.
    I’ll give it all away,
    before the day I die.

    It’s wise to plan ahead
    and have a will,
    Your change of heart
    prepares the codicil.

    Good fortunes of the past
    were planned for two.
    Now only one remains
    here thru and thru.

    It’s me who will decide
    where it will go.
    All cautions to the wind
    about to throw.

    Happiness it’s clear
    can’t buy you money.
    Not happy here my dear?
    Now, that is funny.

    Money isn’t everything.
    Desires are not needs.
    It can’t buy you love.
    It can buy me seeds.

    Just look inside your soul
    as I most certainly will,
    and hold my head up high
    as I prepare the codicil.

    By Michael Grove

  45. Soul Searcher

    Soul searcher, searching souls.
    Seeking out their lofty goals.
    Finding what’s concealed inside.
    All those things they try to hide.

    Try to find out what is true.
    Will they place some faith in you?
    Can they see the beyond your face?
    Will they see your loving grace?

    Searching souls before you stay.
    Planting seeds along the way.
    Tending to the seeds you sow.
    Nurturing the ones that grow.

    Holding hope that you will reap,
    purer love for yours to keep.
    Find a truer heart to sooth.
    Search the soul and seek the truth.

    By Michael Grove

  46. Of Seeds and the Son

    a thought creeps in
    germinated by study

    nurtured by daydreaming
    pruned by opinions

    watered by wisdom
    brough forth by the Son.

  47. Testing the profile.

  48. Doctor

    I am not a doctor
    But I play one on TV.
    What is your affliction?
    I’ll take a look and see.

    If you feel lethargic,
    are burdened with disease.
    Stop it with the poisons.
    I’m asking pretty please.

    Drink your water darn it.
    Stop it with the soda.
    If you need caffeine,
    Tea will fill your quota.

    Black or green, you pick which.
    More antioxidants in Green.
    Black tea stains your teeth,
    But does have more caffeine.

    No artificial sweeteners forever.
    That is something that you do not need.
    Don’t take my word as truthful.
    Get online, search and read.

    If you need sweet substitutes,
    Try the sugar leaf.
    Stevia is its’ name.
    It will pacify your grief.

    Supplement with water soluble vitamins.
    Basically B-complex also C.
    These are not stored in your body,
    You need more each day to be.

    Get rest, eat right, find love.
    These obviously are needs.
    Exercise a little every day.
    A peaceful soul it feeds.

    Pick your poisons carefully
    Too many there to name.
    Moderation is the key,
    Living is the game.

    You know about the smoking and the drinking.
    You know about the pills that you don’t need.
    I’ll not sit here and lecture.
    I’ll only plant a seed.

    Disclaimer here per lawyer,
    Consult then with your own
    physician on these matters.
    This seed has now been sown.

    By Michael Grove

  49. Good morning, all!

    I will be out of town all day today, so I sit here this morning with coffee in hand and the words of your hearts, trying to choose my pick for the week. This is nearly impossible, but thoroughly enjoyable. Walt will post our picks later today. In the meantime, I simply MUST break my resolve to keep my opinions to myself, and share with you just a few petals that especially delighted or intrigued.

    First, I make no apologies for my complete adoration of every piece rooted in the mind of De Jackson (whimsygizmo). Scatter is outstanding.

    Tim’s “Earths tears penetrating soft shelled defenses,connecting me to stony darkness and all beyond.” And in the same piece, “tendriled resistance.”

    Nikki’s “Every day the holes in your pockets drop the seeds that grow into tomorrow.”

    Katie’s “hope for a beautiful mess” … I know I am taking it out of context, but I love how it sings solo!

    Kelly, SO wonderful to see you here! I didn’t know you penned poetry! Absolutely love it. Everyone, Kelly is my cousin. =)

    Off to send Walt my pick for this first week.

  50. A Little Postscript, For the Two Master Gardeners:

    So Walt and Marie Elena have sown their seeds,
    Spreading their joy in poetry here and there,
    And voices sprout and bloom. No noxious weeds
    In this spring garden. eh? Here's to the pair! ;-D

  51. KatiePie, how sweet you are! Thank you!

  52. This comment has been removed by the author.

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