Photosynthetic, a Ghazal

I am born from this earth.  Seed, soil, roots and leaves

I sprawl in the sun’s light.  I cry each time it leaves.

I forgive the darkness. Knowing, morning will come.

I kneel before the sky. Basking, in all God leaves

I grow weak as time wears.  Quickly, I outgrow my bed.

I extend limbs outward.  Stretching as tension leaves.

I expand, inch by inch. To the sun, wide I yawn.

I expel precious breath. To the air, my best leaves.

I wake to refreshed air. Today brings tomorrow.

I harness moisture’s beads. Dewdrops caress my leaves.

I share all that I may. Aware, that love remains.

I weep tears of pure joy. They glisten on my leaves.

I dream within my bed. A cycle without end

I watch as the stars shine. Changing, as evening leaves

I have all I should need. I ask for nothing more.

I am blessed and prepared. In me, love sprouts new leaves.

Over at D'Verse, Sam Peralta is tending the bar for this week's Form-For-All.  This time we're writing Ghazals.  Stop on by and read Sam's excellent introduction, where he'll explain the ins and outs of this truly beautiful form.  I'm pretty sure you'll find some inspiration to try your hand at one and once you do, be sure to link it up with all the other excellent responses from the poets of D'Verse.

The Sans of Time

The sans of time

Grow arid, it does seem,

Void of all the subtle things,

To rest your hope in but one design

Seems to me a waste of time,

 All your life you’ve sought for answers

From questions posed in gossip columns,

You truly are a charitable and giving soul,

Offering everything and bestowing plenty more,

But what’s the point, laboring about in fruitless fields,

Where the only harvest will be thanklessness and callous insensitivity?

You’re heart has never been the organ in which we question,

If only your head be nudged in the right direction,

There is merit in much of what you attempt to say and do,

But it’s the choices made that defy all reason,

Instead of focusing your efforts on the poor or sick,

You’re using logic on the mentally ill,

 Explaining rational thought, and

Trying to teach the constructs of free will,

When dealing with the sans of time,

Like the hourglass, it will run dry,

Moisten your palms, lest I fear, you’ll go without,

As sand does sift, so do the grains of life