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Hares are caught with hounds, fools with praise, and women with gold.
The lonely woods
In the lonely woods do I roam,
I get a good glimpse of everything,
when I walk through the lonely woods, and a sad song I sing.
I see a pretty bird's wing,
so beautiful, so shiny, like that of a silver ring.
I walk near a small stream,
and when I am tired, I stop near it, sleep and dream.
All around me is silence, there is no hatred and there is no violence.
this is what I like in the woods, the lonely woods,
so silent, so calm,
to me, the trees, and the animals, there is no harm,
this is the lonely woods.
poem by Savio Vogt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Funerals
I have been to large funerals,
even had to conduct one for a friend.
There are so many mourners that the pallbearers
have trouble turning the coffin around.
Then there have been others
where only a handful of people begrudgingly go.
My mother had one of those
and the paramount of difference shows.
Large ones are attended to say goodbye and display respect
for all that they had done for others in their lifetime.
The small ones are attended as a sign of closure
for what they did not do in their life.
Large ones have many sad
because they have to say to them their last goodbyes.
Small ones are rather sad
for either they held no respect
or their circle of real friends were very few.
22 October 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Not For Me
Not for me she said
I don’t want to end up
like my mother
I want to reach out
and touch real life
and not end up
some man’s wife
and be endlessly
at his beck and call
and she sat
by the pond
looking over
to the other side
where the woods were dense
and reached out
and touched your hand
and you wondered
if there were still fish
in the pond
and if when
you brought your rod
the following day
you’d catch any
and you liked the way
the sunlight caught
the pond’s skin
and she said
I want to feel
being alive
feel the electric of life
run through my veins
and she leaned over
and kissed you
and placed her hand
between your thighs
and touched the hardness
of your crotch
and you said
do you know how big
the fish was
that got away
when I fished here last?
And she said
no but I know how big
the one I’ve caught is
and laughed
and released her hand
and gave you one
of her stares with her
large passionate eyes
and you noticed
a lone big bird in black
moving across
the bright blue skies.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Size is immaterial.
The ass has large ears;
The horse has small ears.
The horse looks good.
The rat has small ears;
The rabbit has big ears.
The rabbit looks good.
Which ear- large or small,
Stands for beauty?
12.05.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Setting The Small Fry Free
a small fry
is caught the
net with a very
fine mesh
you are the fisherman
who catches the small fish
in your hand
and then you sail back
to the sea
setting the small fry free!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Man is the culprit
Hares and deer produce in multitudes
To withstand onslaught of lions and tigers
Grass and weeds abound much more
To surpass onslaught of hares and deer
Lions and tigers beget not many.
The cycle is in perfect harmony.
Man is adamant to disturb the balance.
5.11.2000, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cuckoo!
In woods so long time bare
Cuckoo!
Up and in the wood, I know not where
Two notes fall.
Yet I do not envy him at all
His phantasy.
Cuckoo!
I too,
Somewhere,
I have sung as merrily as he
Who can dare,
Small and careless love, so to laugh at care,
And who
Can call
Cuckoo!
In woods of winter weary,
In scented woods, of winter weary, call
Cuckoo!
In woods so long time bare.
poem by Hilaire Belloc
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Rat and the Owl
A rat is moving on the ground;
It searches for something to eat;
’Tis night and it must quickly find
Some food or else, it must sure starve!
A large owl stands with two large eyes;
It turns its neck to scan the ground;
It strains its eyes to catch a prey,
And sees a rat shuffling across!
Both search for food in frantic ways;
Both need to eat to stay alive;
The owl is like a ghost at night;
Its large eyes contrast rat’s small ones!
The owl is predator for rat;
The rat is prey for owl at night;
The owl is sure to pin the rat,
And death is sure for the latter!
The rat moves on unwarily!
It nears the owl innocently;
It does not know that death is near;
Its mind is bent on searching food!
The owl is watching rat’s movements;
The prey is rather small in size;
It tries to keep the rat within
Its visual fields, and take a strike!
The rat is unaware of owl;
It has not sniffed the danger near;
With nostrils engrossed in food-search,
It scurries to and fro for long!
The owl is planning when to swoop;
An opportune moment must come;
The rat must take a moment’s rest;
The owl’s claws take the rat to nest!
The predator is smart and swift;
The prey will certainly get caught;
There is a small chance to escape;
But, predator must make the fault!
Both owl and rat must eat to live;
The rat is prey for owl always;
The rat can still avoid its death;
It must respect the owl’s beak-might!
In life, we play with dangers oft;
We know that fire surely burns;
We walk into the ‘jaws of death’!
We take some risks that bring us death!
But being careful is a must;
We cannot risk our precious life;
Lurk dangers in our environs;
The thread of life could get cut fast!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 7-21-2008
poem by John Celes
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Whose Words These Are Only God Knows
WHOSE WOODS THESE ARE ONLY GOD KNOWS
Whose woods these are only God knows
Sparse and bare the trees
A pleasant morning in the hottest time of the year-
My task here is no more-
The man I took care of for one year and one half is in his grave
His kind and good wife said goodbye
With a gift for my daughter and her child
And a compensation check for me.
What Promises are there for me to keep now?
In these last years
Before I too fade and die?
The woods are light and small
And the Developers will soon be here-
I look up out at the Hill of the Holy city
A soft calm wind blows-
Never have I been so still inside-
And miles to go before I sleep?
The City sad and light and deep.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Close your bodily eye, so that you may see your picture first with the spiritual eye. Then bring to the light of day that which you have seen in the darkness so that it may react upon others from the outside inwards. A picture must not be invented but felt. Observe the form exactly, both the smallest and the large and do not separate the small from the large, but rather the trivial from the important.
quote by Caspar David Friedrich
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Naladiayar poem, translated
Fear is large; the matching pleasure is small.
Risk of death at the king’s hand will loom large.
Sins added will lead to the hell. The men
Shy of shame will not covet others’ wives.
10.12.2011
[Tamil classic having 400 verses of four lines,1800 year old]
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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A Mountain and A Squirrel
A mountain was saying this to a squirrel
'Commit suicide if you have self-respect
You are insignificant, still so arrogant, how strange!
You are neither wise, nor intelligent! not even shrewd!
It is strange when the insignificant pose as important!
When the stupid ones like you pose as intelligent!
You are no match in comparison with my splendor
Even the earth is low compared with my splendor
The grandeur of mine does not fall to your lot
The poor animal cannot equal the great mountain! '
On hearing this the squirrel said, 'Hold your tongue!
These are immature thoughts, expel them from your heart!
I do not care if I am not large like you!
You are not a pretty little thing like me
Everything shows the Omni-potence of God
Some large, some small, is the wisdom of God
He has created you large in the world
And He has taught me climbing large trees
You are unable to walk a single step
Only large size! What other greatness have you?
If you are large show me some of the skills I have
Show me how you break this beetle nut as I can
Nothing is useless in this world
Nothing is bad in God's creation
poem by Allama Muhammad Iqbal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lazy Eye
The world spins round the secret lives
Of everyone that needs to hide
A cheap parade of endless lies
Filters through this lazy eye
And I dont believe in signs
No, I dont believe your lies
Caught in the breakdown
Caught in the breakdown
Caught in the breakdown
Caught in the breakdown
Lose yourself in no ones life
Trapped in nowheres empty light
Words like fists that tear you down
Crash before we hit the ground
And I dont believe in signs
No, I dont believe your lies
Caught in the breakdown
Caught in the breakdown
Caught in the breakdown
Caught in the breakdown
And I dont believe in signs
No, I dont believe your lies
No, I dont believe your lies
Caught in the breakdown
Caught in the breakdown
Caught in the breakdown
Caught in the breakdown
Caught in the breakdown
Caught in the breakdown
Breakdown
Caught in the breakdown
song performed by by Goo Goo Dolls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Song [Cântec]
My woods, how beautiful you are
When feeble are the shades
And through the branches, from afar,
A wind of spring pervades.
Through the dead leaves few violets sprout
Like small and coloured dots
I cross the thicket to get out
Together with my thoughts...
When heavy dew shines like a star
On trails where sun rays stroll
My woods, how beautiful you are
And lonely, like my soul...
poem by George Topîrceanu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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The Way Through the Woods
They shut the road through the woods
Seventy years ago.
Weather and rain have undone it again,
And now you would never know
There was once a road through the woods
Before they planted the trees.
It is underneath the coppice and heath,
And the thin anemones.
Only the keeper sees
That, where the ring-dove broods,
And the badgers roll at ease,
There was once a road through the woods.
Yet, if you enter the woods
Of a summer evening late,
When the night-air cools on the trout-ringed pools
Where the otter whistles his mate.
(They fear not men in the woods,
Because they see so few)
You will hear the beat of a horse's feet,
And the swish of a skirt in the dew,
Steadily cantering through
The misty solitudes,
As though they perfectly knew
The old lost road through the woods. . . .
But there is no road through the woods.
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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The Three Foxes
Once upon a time there were three little foxes
Who didn’t wear stockings, and they didn’t wear sockses,
But they all had handkerchiefs to blow their noses,
And they kept their handkerchiefs in cardboard boxes.
And they lived in forest in three little houses,
And they didn’t wear coats, and they didn’t wear trousies.
They ran through the woods on their little bare tootsies,
And they played “Touch Last” with a family of mouses.
They didn’t go shopping in the High Street shopses,
But caught what they wanted in the woods and copses.
They all went fishing, and they caught three wormses,
They went out hunting, and they caught three wopses.
They wen to a Fair, and they all won prizes —
Tree plum-puddingses and three mince-pieses.
They rode on elephants and swang on swingses,
And hit three coco-nuts at coco-nut shieses.
That’s all I know of three little foxes
Who kept their handkerchiefs in three little boxes.
They lived in the forest in three little houses,
But they didn’t wear coats and they didn’t wear trousies,
And they didn’t wear stockings and they didn’t wear sockses.
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
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Pelion
The small owls cry
through the centaur's woods,
bronze wings clashing
through the dry autumnal leaves.
Old battles echo in the air -
the brazen shield and iron spear
flash in the moonlight.
Caught between the fearful dream
and feared reality
the fieldmice still,
crouch lower than the rabbits in the groves.
The owls fly on,
more haunted now than hunting,
towards a time
when pale Athena, helmeted and armed,
lifted her shield
to catch the owl-eyed moon.
poem by Kathleen Griffin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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