Three things cause sorrow to flee; water, green trees, and a beautiful face.
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Plant More Trees
Plant more trees
As it looks green
And save the homes of the animals please.
Plant more trees
As it looks green
To keep the humans safe
From pollution and disease.
Plant more trees
As it looks green
To keep the cities beautiful and clean.
And throw the garbage into a dustbin.
Stop cutting trees
And plant more trees
For a long live of you and me!
poem by Srijita Das
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My beautiful flowering trees
My beautiful flowering trees
One day I shall buy some land
Plant countless seeds
And watch them grow
Into beautiful flowering trees
A cool breeze
Will bring me
Sweet fragrances
From a thousand flowering trees
I shall listen
To the songs
From birds perched
In the tall flowering trees
I shall play
With my children and theirs
In the vast expanse of green
Amongst beautiful flowering trees
One day I shall rest
Passing into oblivion
My ashes scattered
Amidst the beautiful flowering trees
by Ash (Rishi's Dad)
poem by Rishi Menon
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Ignorance Is Beautiful
She taught me two things,
‘Ignorance and Beautiful.'
One day, she told me,
'Let me tell you,
The meaning of Beautiful.
God is beautiful,
Nature is beautiful,
Life is beautiful,
Love is beautiful,
Care is beautiful,
Share is beautiful,
Understanding is beautiful,
Trust is beautiful,
Faith is beautiful,
Passion is beautiful,
Compassion is beautiful,
Air is beautiful,
Water is beautiful,
Earth is beautiful,
Fire is beautiful,
Energy is beautiful,
Here is beautiful,
There is beautiful,
Everywhere is beautiful,
Everyone is beautiful,
Everything is beautiful.'
I had to intervene,
'Looks the universe is beautiful,
But what is most beautiful? '
The reply comes full and straight,
'Ignorance is awesomely beautiful.'
Copyright © 2012 Sanjeev Kumar
poem by Sanjeev Kumar
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I write these lines upon a sheet of paper
I write these lines upon a sheet of paper
That someone made from what was once a forest
Without much thought (as I suspect) for nature:
Does this not fill my heart with guilty sorrow?
Or is its lifeblood more akin to water
That runs in rivers under cloud and sunshine?
Why am I so affected by the sunshine?
All that I do - whether I read the paper,
Or, being thirsty, drink a glass of water,
Or walk amid the tall trees of the forest,
If there's no sun, my mind is fill'd with sorrow,
And if it shines, gladness is in my nature.
But gladness is not always in the nature
Of all terrestrial things, whether the sunshine
Dispels from my own mind some part of sorrow
For many men and creatures, as the paper
I read informs me, live within a forest
Of woe, and some have not a dropp of water.
One dropp of that mysterious liquid, water,
Would save a living animal, by nature,
Whether it dwelt in pasture or in forest,
However little it received of sunshine,
It cannot be exprest by lines on paper
How marv'llously that liquid quenches sorrow.
How much may we, the lucky living, sorrow,
For those who have been drown'd by cruel water,
The greater part of whom are not on paper
Recorded: but the cruelty of Nature
Alone knows. May their souls in heavenly sunshine
Be rested, and walk peaceful through that forest.
I think that life itself is like the forest,
A dark one, where one knows not whether sorrow
Will come, or else a glade o'erspread by sunshine,
That suddenly becomes a fall of water
That patters down in raindrops, in its nature.
Will those trees bloom or turn to crumpled paper?
I'll use no further paper from the forest:
My nature does not wish for you to sorrow,
But sit by flowing water in the sunshine.
poem by David Mitchell
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Sorrow Under Mist
Mist -
Giving wispy vapour to the breath,
Cool calm to autumn afternoons,
A hovering air of mysticism
Over brooding lakes -
Was different here,
Affording company, closeness -
A caring arm around her shoulders.
In the eyes, a once-clear oceanic blue
Wavered under water -
Tears telling torrid truths
She couldn't face -
Like the glowering image in the mirror
You don't see in your mind's eye
Of compensation; delusion.
We see her sitting on the concrete steps
That led down to the dew-laden garden.
She's peering up, sensing her diffuse companion,
Refreshing in its chill; giving crispness
To the stealth of dulling evening.
But the bite of air couldn't lift the sorrow
Of pale youth in love,
Shouldered by a not-in-love and scoffing eye.
Rejection hurt;
Hurts -
Wrenches deep -
Emotion that we can't deny!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
Sorrow Rain
sorrow sorrow sorrow sorrow sorrow sorrow
sorrow sorrow sorrow sorrow sorrow sorrow
sorrow sorrow sorrow sorrow sorrow sorrow
sorrow sorrow sorrow sorrow sorrow sorrow
sorrow sorrow sorrow sorrow sorrow sorrow
sorrow sorrow sorrow sorrow sorrow sorrow
sorrow sorrow sorrow sorrow sorrow sorrow
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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A Natural Green
Who coloured the green trees?
Who coloured the green grass?
Who coloured the green hills?
How about my green spider plant? ?
Green, Green, you are so glorious green...
An abundance of beautiful green, not coloured, but just natural and kind.
Makes me wonder how your creation of green came to life....
A ride on a helicopter over the huge Rain Forest and see nothing, but acres & acres of simply gorgeous green!
Green, Green, you are so glorious green...
An abundance of beautiful green, not coloured, but just natural and kind.
Makes me wonder how your creation of green came to life...
GREEN, I admire and respect the vitality you bring in the air that I breathe...
poem by Premila Patel
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Bein Green
Its not easy bein green
Having to spend each day the color of the leaves
When I think it could be nicer bein red or yellow or gold
Or something much more colorful like that
Its not easy bein green
It seems you blend in with so many other ordinary things
And people tend to pass you over
cause youre not standing out like flashy sparkles
On the water or stars in the sky
But green is the color of spring
And green can be cool and friendly like
And green can be big like an ocean
Or important like a mountain or tall like a tree
When green is all there is to be
It could make you wonder why
But why wonder, why wonder?
I am green and itll do fine, its beautiful
And I think its what I want to be
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wanting The Moon
Not the moon. A flower
on the other side of the water.
The water sweeps past in flood,
dragging a whole tree by the hair,
a barn, a bridge. The flower
sings on the far bank.
Not a flower, a bird calling
hidden among the darkest trees, music
over the water, making a silence
out of the brown folds of the river's cloak.
The moon. No, a young man walking
under the trees. There are lanterns
among the leaves.
Tender, wise, merry,
his face is awake with its own light,
I see it across the water as if close up.
A jester. The music rings from his bells,
gravely, a tune of sorrow,
I dance to it on my riverbank.
poem by Denise Levertov
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Beautiful Monikie
Beautiful Monikie! with your trees and shrubberies green
And your beautiful walks, most charming to be seen:
'Tis a beautiful place for pleasure-seekers to resort,
Because there they can have innocent sport,
taking a leisure walk all round about,
And see the ang1ers fishing in the pand for trout.
Besides, there's lovely white swans swimming on the pond,
And Panmure Monument can be seen a little distance beyond;
And the scenery all round is enchanting I declare,
While sweet-scented fragrance fills the air.
Then away, pleasure-seekers of bonnie Dundee,
And have a day's outing around Monikie,
And inhale the pure air, on a fine summer day,
Which will help to drive dull care away;
As ye gaze on the beautiful scenery there,
Your spirits will feel o'erjoyed and free frozen care.
Then near to the pond there's a beautiful green sward,
Where excursionists can dance until fatigue does them retard;
And if they feel thirsty, the Monikie water's near by,
Where they can quench their thirst if very dry.
Then, after that, they can have a walk at their ease,
Amongst the green shrubbery and tall pine trees;
And in the centre of the pand they can see
Three beautiful little islets dressed in green livery.
Monikie is as bonnie a place as ye could wish to see,
And about eleven or twelve miles from bonnie Dundee;
It's the only place I know of to enjoy a holiday,
Because there's a hall of shelter there to keep the rain away.
Then there's a large park, a very suitable place,
For the old and the young, if they wish to try a race;
It's there they can enjoy themselves during the live-long summmer day,
Near to the little purling burn, meandering on its way,
And emptying itself into the pond of Monikie,
Which supplies the people with water belonging to Dundee.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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The Dying Rose
Once so beautiful, freshly cut, a single rose stands
encompassed by succulent green leaves and proud standing thorns
petite white gypsum surrounds this expression of love
the tall slender rose vase holds the water for life
Words of appreciation are given as eyes drink in the vista before them
scented perfume fills and stimulates heightened senses
colors of red, green and virgin white stimulate the eyes
As all things that live, so all things must die in their turn
rose petals shrivel and loose the lustre if red
succulent green leaves whither, turn brown and die
virgin petite gypsum wilts and becomes a dirty used white.
Water discolors to a slimy foul smelling green
the once beautiful is now the 'Dying Rose.'
When did it start to die?
When it was cut off from its source of life.
poem by Ruth warren
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Trees and Plants
Plants and trees
So green so green
The kitchen is the leaf
And the root is the chief
They give us flowers to decorate
And also to celebrate
They give us paper from their wood
And they are found in the woods
With their help we can make whatever we want
From a rubberband to a pant
We don't need to pay tax or fees
To borrow from our lovely trees
They protect us from diseases
That would make us ill
All the carbondioxide
They always take in
Some people cut trees
For things like table and chair
Not knowing what pollution
They are doing to the air
Forests are turning from green to brown
Animals' faces are always with a frown
So let's make this place from brown to green
By planting more saplings and trees
poem by Deepika Ganesh
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Being Green
(joe raposo)
One day, as I was walking through my garden, I saw a little frog lying on the ground. and I thought he was sick. so I picked him up and he wasnt sick at all. he was very sad, and he was crying.
I said: whats a matter with you, little frog? and he looked up at me with a lump in his throat, and he said: wribbit!
It aint easy being green
Having to spend each day the color of the leaves
When I think, I think it would be nicer being red
Or yellow or gold
You see, it aint easy being green
It seems to blend in with so many other ordinary things
And then, sometimes, sometimes people pass over you
Because youre not standing out like sparkles on the water
Or like the stars in the sky
But did you know that green is the color of spring
And green can be big like an ocean
And important like a mountain
And cool and friendly-like
Or tall and skinny like a tree
And me
But when green is all there is to be
It kind of makes you wonder why
Why wonder, wonder why?
Hey, Im green and I think itll do fine
cause green is just what I wanna be
cause green is beautiful, baby
Right on green
And anyway, moneys green
Wribbit
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Oranges On Apple Trees
Oranges on apple trees
Birds that mate with bumblebees
Oranges on apple trees
Water comes and water goes
Where it ends up no one really knows
Water rises, water falls
Where it comes from no one knows for sure
It seeps from every pore
We have seen the rain before
Not like this - its flooding every shore
People come and people go
I can hear their laughter through the door
But no ones keeping score
Oranges on apple trees
Birds that mate with bumblebees
One big happy family
Endless possibilities
(yeah and more)
Oranges and apple trees
I see your face in front of me
Cant believe what no one else could see
I feel it deep inside of me
Everything we love shall be released
And everyone will see
Oranges on apple trees (for sure)
I used to be the only one
Not now since youve come
You and I have seen the signs
Thats why the wind died
The wind died
Thats why oranges on apple trees
Birds that mate with bumblebees
Endless possibilities (now)
Oranges on apple trees
All the things that we can see
Multi-gender wannabes
Oranges on apple trees
Birds that mate with bumblebees
One big happy family
Endless possibilities (yeah yeah yeah)
Oranges on apple trees (for sure)
song performed by by A-Ha
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Calling Of The Trees
The wind.
The calling of the trees,
Whose leaves flow
Endlessly through the wind,
Calling the sound,
Of water,
Like waves
Of the beach.
Beyond.
The row of trees
Standing in line
Along the shore,
Through them
Pass to where
Green grey water
Meets the sand,
In constant push
Through the shorebirds legs.
Crows call, geese horn
And the wind
Flows steady, strong and sure.
The wind smelling of salt and green.
(7.18.7 The View)
poem by Heather Z. Hanna
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Year 2012
Green hope green road green field green dream
Green green grass of future
Dhamma is distinguishgedly seen in the world
Wonderlands of future generations
peace, harmony and wisdom
love for humanity
rebirths of democracy
cool breeze of mind
building morality of tomorrow
a beautiful mind
Beautiful minds
a beautiful mind
Beautiful minds
a beautiful mind
Beautiful minds
The world is a beautiful place to live, to meditate and to contemplate
For the purpose of keeping truths alive and fight for undaunted wisdom.
Sparkling Water
Sparkling Water drips like sugar coming from a grand white sugar cane,
Sparkling Water falls around, to the ground and speeds like cars on a freeway lane.
Sparkling Water glistens and gleams, you know it seems as real as it can be,
Nothing is real, but you hear me feel, the cold, pure breeze.
It pushes away,
In the hot summer day.
Like a frog in the green,
Those annoying little things.
They jump just like water,
Like babies tater toter.
We drink it,
We need it.
Its water, it sparkles, its beautiful, it gleams, so pure, must have it, I need it.
Sparkling Water, its life.
(Simile)
poem by Sam Panchenko
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Beautiful Life, Beautiful!
Beautiful is life, beautiful,
So beautiful it will be,
With beloved share smile and laugh
When the one share his own,
Seeing and feeling not alone,
Not only sharing sorrow and happiness,
Everything they feel and think,
But also sharing everything they eat and drink!
Sharing the same cloth,
Sharing all weight and burden,
Sharing the same umbrella,
In hot Sun and rain!
Sharing the weight of bag and luggage,
Smiling together like kids of tender age!
Beautiful is life, beautiful,
When both stay together,
Lay together on Same cot,
Drink from same pot,
same room if they share,
Same eyes to look at things,
Same ears to listen to music,
Same taste in all and Everything,
Beautiful life, beautiful,
How beautiful mind is,
When heart sees
sweet heart,
we feel our beloved share
Everything with,
pain and sorrow,
But not the pain of heart,
as we are so feeble that,
we can't share his grief and sorrow
One day we will be with him and share his burden with ever lasting smile!
Beautiful life, beautiful will be,
Beautiful days will be
when I grow up to share his pain!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Objectified
All beautiful things meet their demise
Flowers in bloom surely will die
Frozen are the wings of the dead butterfly
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
Clouds of gray spoil the light of the skies
The ocean must fall in order to rise
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
I knew I was doomed when you first said, “Hi.”
Two ships in the night, we were bound to collide
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
Four months can pass in the blink of an eye
We lose ourselves without having to try
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
The simplest words become hard to define
You can’t see the truth when you cover your eyes
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
Your pay the price to take this ride
Slowly, you find that you’re living a lie
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
Pictures of us will fade over time
We become strangers in a world so wide
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
You’ll keep on searching for what you won’t find
You’ll lose your faith while I lose my mind
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
Sometimes your morals get left behind
It will be too late when you realize
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
poem by Vaida Marea
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Broughty Ferry
Ancient Castle of Broughty Ferry
With walls as strong as Londonderry;
Near by the sea-shore,
Where oft is heard and has been heard the cannon's roar
In the present day and days of yore,
Loudly echoing from shore to shore.
From your impregnable ramparts high
Like the loud thunder in the sky
Enough to frighten a foreign foe away
That would dare to come up the river Tay,
To lay siege to Bonnie Dundee,
I'm sure your cannon-balls wouId make them flee--
Home again to their own land
Because your cannon shot they could not withstand,
They would soon be glad to get away
From the beautiful shores of the silvery Tay.
Ancient Castle, near by Tayside,
The soldiers ought to feel happy that in you reside,
Because from the top they can have a view of Fife,
Which ought to drown their sorrow and give them fresh life,
And make their spirits feel light and gay
As they view the beautiful scenery of the silvery Tay.
The village of Broughty Ferry is most beautiful to see,
With its stately mansions and productive fishery,
Which is a great boon to the villagers and the people of Dundee,
And ought to make them thankful, and unto God to pray
For creating plenty of fish for them in the beautiful Tay.
And the city of Dundee seems beautiful to the eye
With her mill stacks and Old Steeple so high,
Which can be seen on a clear summer day
From the top of Broughty Castle near the mouth of Tay.
Then there's beautiful Reres Hill,
Where the people can ramble at their will
Amongst its beautiful shrubberies and trees so green
Which in the summer season is most charming to be seen,
And ought to drive dull care away,
Because the people can see every clear day
From the top the ships sailing on the silvery Tay.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Her Beautiful Face
' HER BEAUTIFUL FACE'
The first time that he saw her it was her beautiful face,
He fell in love at first glance though he was very young
He spoke to her and found out that she was beautiful within,
A friend he had made for life with that beautiful face,
So slim and innocent the girl with the beautiful face,
She gave him three wonderful children the girl with the beautiful face,
As years went on she became the sole love of his life,
A wonderful Mother was the girl with the beautiful face,
Grandchildren were so deserved for the girl with the beautiful face,
As he took his last few breaths in life, the last thing he saw was her oh so beautiful face.
Dave Bennett
poem by David Bennett
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