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Memory Of Childhood
Memories of childhood flash in to mind
Loitering from field to field was our trend
Yet now strikes me the memory of committing theft
In Act of dodge we used to run from forest to forest
For various kinds of joys we used to go on fishing
For mother the conch - caster - lotus we used to bring
Same song is singed by mynah and bird another kind
poem by Bongokobida Zakaria
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The Fawn
There it was I saw what I shall never forget
And never retrieve.
Monstrous and beautiful to human eyes, hard to
believe,
He lay, yet there he lay,
Asleep on the moss, his head on his polished cleft
small ebony hoves,
The child of the doe, the dappled child of the deer.
Surely his mother had never said, "Lie here
Till I return," so spotty and plain to see
On the green moss lay he.
His eyes had opened; he considered me.
I would have given more than I care to say
To thrifty ears, might I have had him for my friend
One moment only of that forest day:
Might I have had the acceptance, not the love
Of those clear eyes;
Might I have been for him in the bough above
Or the root beneath his forest bed,
A part of the forest, seen without surprise.
Was it alarm, or was it the wind of my fear lest he
depart
That jerked him to his jointy knees,
And sent him crashing off, leaping and stumbling
On his new legs, between the stems of the white
trees?
poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
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The magic forest
At the Bois de Boulogne lies magic
Magic that cannot be evitable
Magic that lures people into the evergreen forest
In the forest, soft earth is like a comfy bed
Meadows of grass are green sheets for the bed
If you happen to lie down on the bed
The sunlight hugs your body gently like a mother
Your eyes are heavy weights, unable to keep your eyes open
You fall into the sweetest dream as time goes by…
Night walked into the forest as day walked out of the forest
The pale moon is like a glass eye of a witch staring at you
The dark magic falls into the forest
Lusty monsters fill the magic forest
And the magic forest falls asleep…
My Ears - My Eyes
My ears are my eyes because I am blind.
When I cross the street I listen for the sound of cars braking.
My ears are my eyes.
When I enter a room I tap my cane onto the floor and listen for the distance the echo travel to know how far I am away from someone else. My ears are my eyes.
I may never physical see the beauty of a spring day, but when I hear the birds are chirping, bikes constantly peddling by and lovers saying I love you. I know it is a beautiful spring day. I may be blind but I still see my ears are my eyes.
Note: No I am not blind myself but I know several people who are and this is me letting the rest of the world how they see through my poetry.
The road passed through a curtain of pine forest and came out on a flat, rolling snow field. In this field the sprawled or bunched bodies of Germans lay thick, like some dark shapeless vegetable.
quote by Martha Gellhorn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Optometry
If you had not been a poet,
What other field of endeavor...
Would you have chosen to pursue?
'Without a doubt,
It would have been optometry.'
Why that particular field of study?
'It seems as though everyday,
I find myself in a debate with someone...
Over that which is clearly observed.
And,
They deny seeing the obvious.'
Maybe it is not so obvious to them.
'That's why,
Optometry would have been my chosen field of study.'
It's never too late you know.
'It is for a lot of people.
Many will never see the forest for the trees.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Love Field
You lie so unfolded
In a love field
With your contempt for any modesty
In a love field
In a love field
In a love field
You yield with your lips still sealed
In a love field
Lost in a sea of imaginary women
Everything youd want
From the dawn to the dimming
Breath comes sharp and heart beats faster
In a love field
Cold ground for a pillow
Under a blanket of stars
In a love field
In a love field
In a love field
Headlights that startled
This embrace of hours
In a love field
In a crooked house
Where things can be arranged
You think youre different from the rest
But you dont see how youve changed
Under an archway
On a road of white linen
In a love field
Feel the anxious rhythm of a functional stranger
In a love field
In a love field
In a love field
Shes so tense but its never mentioned
In a love field
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Little Bunny FOOFOO -?
Little Bunny FooFoo,
hoppin' thru the forest.
Pickin' up field mice,
and boppin' 'em on the head.
(fairy comes)
Little Bunny FooFoo,
I don't wanna see you
pickin' up field mice,
and boppin' 'em on the head.
(fairy gives him 3 chances)
(he wastes them, im guessing, cause i dont really know)
Little Bunny FooFoo,
hoppin' thru the forest.
Pickin' up field mice,
and boppin' 'em on the head.
poem by Rebecca Ryan
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Mystery of the Mind poem - I carry a forest with me
i carry a forest with me
in the midst of which are
treasures begging to be found
some my friends help me,
some my teachers,
the others nature points
out to me in its own subtle ways
the rest, i just leave it to my inner
ears and eyes and hopefully
i could unravel all that is in my little world
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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To Greet, Meet And To Brag
My eyes never left the ball.
Afterall...
I became disciplined to keep my focus on it.
And when I joined on the field with others,
Who made claims they came with aims to play...
In a way to prove with me they could complete.
My eyes never left the ball to reach.
My eyes never left the ball not at all.
And when it was thrown in the air others stared.
But my eyes were right there to catch it...
To run with it and score a goal.
I came on the field prepared to win.
Not to say I just came to play.
Like others who came just to huddle.
My eyes never left the ball. afterall...
I did not come to greet, meet nor to brag,
With embellished exaggerations...
Of what I could do or had done in my past.
My eyes never left the ball...they couldn't.
And I was there on the field to win not pretend,
I came just to play to socialize and go away.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Heaps Of Rubble
Heaps of rubble,
Like the high places of the forest;
But you will be weeded like a field.
He or she who say i know Him but does not keep His Laws is a lair!
And the truth is not in him or her;
But the high places of the forest will bear the witness.
Revealing,
Differently,
Distinguishes,
Sons and daughters;
Compared to chemotherapy,
But only Yahweh can foretell future events.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Whatever You Like
I have two ears
I have to hear atleast twice.
You have no ears
Why should I speak?
See, Tears only
Rolling from my eyes
And I am unable to see.
You have big round eyes
You can also do
Whatever you like.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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The forest has an ear, the field has an eye.
Mutuality
i like your ears
you think
i am just flattering you
i suggest
you see your ears
using my eyes
as your mirror
still you do not
trust me
how can you be so indifferent?
i will buy you a mirror,
and now
use it, see?
your ears are
so beautiful
because
they are deaf
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Season
Ruby-veins crept into the foliage.
Then the pond was calm and wide.
By the forest's edge brightly scattered
Bluish speckles and brown dust lay.
A fisherman drew in his nets.
Then dusk came over the field.
But, a yard shined still palely illuminated
And maids brought fruit and wine.
Distantly a shepherd's song died after.
Then huts stood bleak and strange.
The forest in gray shroud
Evoked sad memory.
And overnight time became quiet
And an army of ravens flew
As if in black holes in the forest and moved
Toward the town's very distant ringing.
poem by Georg Trakl
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Shiloh - A Requiem
Skimming lightly, wheeling still,
The swallows fly low
Over the field in clouded days,
The forest-field of Shiloh --
Over the field where April rain
Solaced the parched one stretched in pain
Through the pause of night
That followed the Sunday fight
Around the church of Shiloh--
The church so lone, the log-built one,
That echoed to many a parting groan
And natural prayer
Of dying foemen mingled there --
Foemen at morn, but friends at eve --
Fame or country least their care:
(What like a bullet can undeceive!)
But now they lie low,
While over them the swallows skim,
And all is hushed at Shiloh.
poem by Herman Melville
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Cedric's Message.
Cedric approached you
in the playground and said
My sister Christina
wants to see you
on the playing field lunchtime
and he said it
in a quiet voice
as if he didn't want
the other boys to hear
he ran messages for girls
and off he went
to play with some other boys
leaving you to stare out
onto the empty playing field
and so lunch time
after you'd eaten dinner
you went onto the playing field
beneath the summer sun
and there she was
over by the wire fence
waiting for you
and you said
Cedric said you wanted to see me
and she said
Yes do you mind
if we walk off alone together
I don't want other's ears
to move in on our conversation
No sure
you said
Let's go over by the woods
by the far fence
and so you walked off with her
across the playing field
by other kids who were playing
football or sitting talking
or playing skip rope
or whatever
and when you came
to the woods
you sat down with her
and she said
You do love me
don't you?
I mean you're not
seeing anyone else?
You looked across
the playing field
to where you'd sat
with another
some months before
and she had asked
the same question
but since then
it had turned
momentarily sour
Yes and no
you said
looking back at her
taking in her dark hair
and deep eyes
and how her hand
lay on her thigh
covered by grey skirt
and her naked knees
just visible
to the eye
What do you mean
yes and no?
she asked
you watched
her lips move
and replied
Yes I love you
and no I'm not
seeing another
and she smiled at you
and put her hand on yours
and waited for a kiss
and so you did
her lips on yours
out by the woods
on that summer day
out of doors.
poem by Terry Collett
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Don't poop in a field and don't talk in a forest.