There is something in the decay of nature that awakens thought, even in the most trifling mind.
quote by Sarah Josepha Hale
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gaia’s Plan
Please, don’t sweep the leaves away –
Their essence gives to life’s decay.
Never hack the flowers down –
Their colours bless the laughing clown.
Now why the mowing of the lawn?
The severed grass will lie forlorn.
Let our flora live undressed,
Or under Man, will toil repressed!
I, the tree of standing still –
Erect and proud, and stout of will,
Aglow with motley bark of earth –
Advance my roots for all they’re worth,
Internalising Nature’s bowels
To snag the devil, tweak his jowls
And pull his hairs from whence they grow!
I’ll destroy his pagan show
Of Homo sapiens’ disrespect!
The humble ape must reconnect
With Gaia’s plan!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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From Sengtzan (died 606 AD/CE) , the Third Patriarch of Zen
How may we walk all free and undisturbed
through life, as if there were no other way?
So that our human nature finds no break
between our nature, and all nature's play?
The answer lies in thought: for if our mind
holds any thought that some restriction makes
on truth itself, then Truth is thus constrained
in every part; can never show itself.
For hence comes false requirement, then to judge
between all these embordered things in mind -
Which wearies angered mind, like some old grudge;
No freedom then, nor peace, nor truth, to find.
So curb that game divisive mind will play
with anything at all; that is the Way.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Miracles Of Nature
A tiny dark seed to a great tree can grow
A miracle of Nature that much we do know
And Nature's miracles are many and her secrets not few
In telling you that I'm not saying anything that's new.
The miracles of Nature we witness every day
We see life existing where there is decay
Amongst the dead leaves that are strewn on the ground
Insects and slugs that live on decay are crawling around.
The Mother of Nature lives by her own law
Of her workings one only can live in awe
The life that she give she eventually receive
And for her dead children she never does grieve.
In Spring the pink blossoms on the fruit bearing tree
In Nature all around us miracles we do see
For our existence and survival to her we do owe
Yet so little about her we can claim to know.
poem by Francis Duggan
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I am against nature. I don't dig nature at all. I think nature is very unnatural. I think the truly natural things are dreams, which nature can't touch with decay.
Fishing For Fresh Water Bass
By the time their minds begin unfolding...
They will have the consciousness
Of also knowing,
The ignorance they manifested...
Will provide such a stench,
To bring clarity to their eyes as well!
Getting accustomed to truth...
Is like being slapped in the face
By a 'trout'!
When all the time,
You thought you were fishing for fresh water bass!
And then all of a sudden...
A mind awakens to guilt,
And a polluted thought process!
You now see...
Had been addicting!
And those folks you 'had' thought were crazy...
And out of their minds?
You now find a desire to be in their presence!
And they now look upon you with suspicion!
Hey...
That's how it is!
NOW,
Attempt to have a conversation with someone...
You knew,
Before you lost the confinement,
Of your once narrowed mind!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Old Memory
O THOUGHT, fly to her when the end of day
Awakens an old memory, and say,
'Your strength, that is so lofty and fierce and kind,
It might call up a new age, calling to mind
The queens that were imagined long ago,
Is but half yours: he kneaded in the dough
Through the long years of youth, and who would have thought
It all, and more than it all, would come to naught,
And that dear words meant nothing?' But enough,
For when we have blamed the wind we can blame love;
Or, if there needs be more, be nothing said
That would be harsh for children that have strayed.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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The Budding
The budding.
A rebirth of a season missed.
Spring arrives to lift spirits high.
Clear blue skies are witnessed...
As white clouds drift.
The budding.
Of flowers and grass and the leaves,
On Oak, Maple and Birch Trees.
Welcomes a lilting done of wind,
Introducing a Spring breeze to ease...
With a life that seems to be enjoyed again.
The budding.
Of familiar love known,
Yet hibernated in the Winter...
Amidst snow drifts.
And we smile and laugh and again forget,
That stress we welcomed to separate us...
From identifying those blessings,
That surrounds us to reach for complete happiness.
To explore and experience all of nature's treasures.
As Spring awakens with a freshness it brings.
With the budding, the blooming and the joy!
As Spring awakens with a freshness it brings.
With the budding, the blooming and the joy!
As Spring awakens with a freshness it brings.
With the budding.
The blooming done.
And the joy!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Country Walking
I walked a league and o'er the moor;
I walked and walked as ne’er before,
And on to walk from dale to hill
And on again to claim the thrill.
Behold! that walking does for me:
The senses heightened, mind of glee,
While rolling vistas pass me by
To swell the heart, enthrall the eye.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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The Last Rose Of The Fall
Her pink petals strewn upon the grass beside her mother tree
In full bloom a thing of Nature so beautiful to see
Where the gleaners of Nature's decay grubs, slugs and insects crawl
Last week she looked so beautiful the last rose of the Fall.
So bare and thorny looking without her leaves and flowers
The rose tree looks forlorn in the cool Autumn showers
Next Summer again pink roses she will wear
The rose tree in bloom has a beauty that's rare.
The beauty of Nature is seen Worldwide
In town parks and gardens and in the countryside
And Nature herself she lives on every shore
The one destined to live forever more.
For the gleaners of Nature who live on decay
The beautiful rose petals on the grass lay
But the rose whose life span can be measured in hours
Her fate it is not any different to ours.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Nature versus Collective Self
they say we are
a part of nature
but i say nature
is part of us
growing eyes,
ears, tongues
heart and mind
compass for us
to sail the ocean
of the one self we
all are part of
nature spells out
charms to the
varied senses in
the self too many
to count
when the full moon shines
the thought is lighted up
large and calm as a lake
when a person dies
he strips a part of nature
in the self
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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If a weakly mortal is to do anything in the world besides eat the bread thereof, there must be a determined subordination of the whole nature to the one aim no trifling with time, which is passing, with strength which is only too limited.
quote by Beatrice Potter Webb
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The universe is of the nature of a thought or sensation in a universal Mind … To put the conclusion crudely — the stuff of the world is mind-stuff. As is often the way with crude statements, I shall have to explain that by "mind" I do not exactly mean mind and by "stuff" I do not at all mean stuff. Still that is about as near as we can get to the idea in a simple phrase. The mind-stuff of the world is something more general than our individual conscious minds; but we may think of its nature as not altogether foreign to feelings in our consciousness … Having granted this, the mental activity of the part of world constituting ourselves occasions no great surprise; it is known to us by direct self-knowledge, and we do not explain it away as something other than we know it to be — or rather, it knows itself to be.
quote by Arthur Eddington
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Awakens
Awakens
Memories......
that linger on in shadows of thought
Dusty illusions caught in a web of desire
Pushed back
and dwarfed by darkness
With but one kiss
forever burns and ignites
these words that I write
Longings wantonly hidden
With but one kiss
Passion flames arise
with searing tears
and I was moved
Memories......
that scatter rhymes
upon the grounds of summer
Left to linger longer
Till a gentle kiss awakens
13 July 2008
© 2008 Frog First (All rights reserved)
Mist Upon the Placid Morn
Bleed out your beauty, Autumn –
Give up a gentle wrist, and smear
Your bloody hues atop the green.
Cast a calming throw of heady peace
Upon the cooling land.
And as you grant the sun a final fling of warmth,
Charge the silent air
(Now lolling on a foliar deathbed)
With earthen whiff to intimate the fungal push.
Soon you’ll send a shiver down the watery spine of
Quivering ponds, punctual brooks, and
Listless lakes, to warn them of the freeze to come.
Behold! your mellow spirit
Hanging as a mist upon the placid morn –
A sight that draws a sneaking tear or two – forlorn
Observers are we all of colder climes to view!
Autumn Lady, must you be the summer waning –?
Our adieu to fairer-weather life?
Ah well, at least you hum a warming tone, ensuring
Nature’s rhythm still abounds.
But now you must prepare the mind for chilly times –
You know the drill –
Guiding us along a sloping path
To ease our psyche in to sleet and snow –
The blue-ice bite of winter.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Truly, Truly, This Is The End
They say deaths an open door
Into another room
Within the city of the dead
(Our New Kingdom)
They say we walk like dreams
Sharing the same breath
Seeing through the same eyes
(A collective spirit)
As we pray (As we pray)
On his grave (On his grave)
Or words fall and decay (And decay)
As we pray (As we pray)
On his grave (On his grave)
Or words fall and decay (And decay)
They say the Earth it gives no peace
Nor does it take away
We all survive the grave
(Unfortunate eternal)
They say that in times past
A king walked in the sky
Until dethroned by man
(Tribe of Judas)
As we pray (As we pray)
On his grave (On his grave)
Or words fall and decay (And decay)
As we pray (As we pray)
On his grave (On his grave)
Or words fall and decay (And decay)
Truly, truly, this is the end
Truly, truly, this is the end
Truly, truly, this is the end
Truly, truly, this is the end
It's not the same
I'm plagued with pain and I can't let go
It's not the same
I'm plagued with pain and I can't let go
It's not the same
I'm plagued with pain and I can't let go
It's not the same
I'm plagued with pain and I can't let go
This is the end
song performed by by Zao
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thirteen Lines
A brain peered through stoic eyes;
Yet all it saw was rendered into
Flawed interpretation –
No honoured contemplation of a
Gluon, muon, quark of any flavour;
Nor a vision or conception of its world
Within a universe anthropic in its physical laws,
Inside a boundless multiverse.
All it gleaned and modelled
Bore parochialism well beyond belief! –
Delusional perhaps.
Survival only matters here on planet Earth –
Evolution saw to that.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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A weak mind is like a microscope, which magnifies trifling things, but cannot receive great ones.
quote by Lord Chesterfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Since That Is Nature's Way
By their deciduous mother tree on the grass they do lay
The brown leaves of the Autumn have gone to decay
The magpie is piping in the dawn cool and gray
And life it goes on since that is Nature's way
Like her Seasons her life forms to Nature come and go
Yet so little of her ways we can claim to know
I marvel at the wonders in Nature I see
But Nature remains as a mystery to me
The beauty in Nature is ours to enjoy
I first fell in love with her as a young boy
And though the father of time mercy for us don't show
My wonderment of her only seems to grow
The brown leaves of Autumn lay near their mother tree
And the fate that befell them is also for me.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Match
Nature had long a Treasure made
Of all her choisest store;
Fearing, when She should be decay'd,
To beg in vain for more.
Her Orientest Colours there,
And Essences most pure,
With sweetest Perfumes hoarded were,
All as she thought secure.
She seldom them unlock'd, or us'd,
But with the nicest care;
For, with one grain of them diffus'd,
She could the World repair.
But likeness soon together drew
What she did separate lay;
Of which one perfect Beauty grew,
And that was Celia.
Love wisely had of long fore-seen
That he must once grow old;
And therefore stor'd a Magazine,
To save him from the cold.
He kept the several Cells repleat
With Nitre thrice refin'd;
The Naphta's and the Sulphurs heat,
And all that burns the Mind.
He fortifi'd the double Gate,
And rarely thither came,
For, with one Spark of these, he streight
All Nature could inflame.
Till, by vicinity so long,
A nearer Way they sought;
And, grown magnetically strong,
Into each other wrought.
Thus all his fewel did unite
To make one fire high:
None ever burn'd so hot, so bright:
And Celia that am I.
So we alone the happy rest,
Whilst all the World is poor,
And have within our Selves possest
All Love's and Nature's store.
poem by Andrew Marvell
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The failure of the mind in old age is often less the results of natural decay, than of disuse. Ambition has ceased to operate; contentment bring indolence, and indolence decay of mental power, ennui, and sometimes death. Men have been known to die, literally speaking, of disease induced by intellectual vacancy.
quote by B. Brodie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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