A tiny radish of passionate scarlet, tipped modestly in white.
quote by Clementine Paddleford
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Scarlet Ribbons
I peeked in to say good-night,
When I heard my child in prayer.
And for me some scarlet ribbons,
Scarlet ribbons for my hair.
All the stores were closed and shuttered,
All the streets were dark and bare.
In our town no scarlet ribbons,
Not one ribbon for her hair.
Thru the night my heart was aching,
Just before the dawn was breaking.
I peeked in and on her bed,
In gay profusion lying there,
Lovely ribbons, scarlet ribbons,
Scarlet ribbons for her hair.
If I live to be a hundred,
I will never know from where.
Came those lovely scarlet ribbons,
Scarlet ribbons for her hair.
Scarlet ribbons- theres magic in the air,
Scarlet, scarlet ribbons for her hair.
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Scarlet Ribbons
(jack segal/evelyn danzig)
I peeped in to say good night
When i heard my child in prayer
"send for me, some scarlet ribbons
Scarlet ribbons for my hair"
All the stores were closed and shuttered
All the streets were dark and bare
In my town no scarlet ribbons
Scarlet ribbons for her hair
Through the night my heart was aching
Just before the dawn was breaking
I peeped in and on her bed
In gay profusion lying there
Lovely ribbons, scarlet ribbons
Scarlet ribbons for her hair
If i live to be a hundred
I will never know from where
Came those lovely scarlet ribbons
Scarlet ribbons for her hair
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Butterfly
Across a scarlet sky there wings a butterfly,
he passes over a million heads,
a thousand lives fruitlessly lead.
Such a sight my eyes behold,
with no motive I am told.
Waters deep from rippling streams
glazed of gold by sunbeams.
What is such a seeming less trek,
the phantoms of the mind conjures,
are the images we see, ourselves,
or are we just microscopic cells.
Flowers on a thorny bush,
with beauty such as they inspire,
petals bright of scarlet flames,
bathed in the sun’s warm desire.
Here we stand some minute speck
near the greater door.
Something more than our mind can behold.
Our future somewhere inside is stored.
Where we go, and what we do,
are we mere puppets on a string,
under someone’s control.
White tipped mountain range,
peaks touch the sky,
there wings again the butterfly.
Does he hold the future,
is that why he crumbles to our touch?
Butterfly pray tell me,
the message that you hold,
where is my future sold.
Do wishes come true?
Do they transpire,
if so where can they be found?
poem by David Harris
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There Once Was A Tiny Girl
there once
was a tiny girl
who grew up
in this world
there once
was a tiny girl
who cried herself to sleep
every night
there once
was a tiny girl
who wore the same dress
every day
there once
was a tiny girl
who wouldn't go out
and play
there once
was a tiny girl
who would bleed and have bruises
from head to toe
there once
was a tiny girl
who begged
daddy, please no more
there once
was a tiny girl
who the angels
heard her prayer
they came down
and took her
to a better place
where that tiny girl
found love
instead of hate
by: crystal sonier
age: 15
poem by Natalia Anna Joelie
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Valentine's Day
Oh! I wish I were a tiny browny bird from out the south,
Settled among the alder-holts, and twittering by the stream;
I would put my tiny tail down, and put up my tiny mouth,
And sing my tiny life away in one melodious dream.
I would sing about the blossoms, and the sunshine and the sky,
And the tiny wife I mean to have in such a cosy nest;
And if some one came and shot me dead, why then I could but die,
With my tiny life and tiny song just ended at their best.
poem by Charles Kingsley
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My Lady Is Compared To A Young Tree
When I see a young tree
In its white beginning,
With white leaves
And white buds
Barely tipped with green,
In the April weather,
In the weeping sunshine—
Then I see my lady,
My democratic queen,
Standing free and equal
With the youngest woodland sapling
Swaying, singing in the wind,
Delicate and white:
Soul so near to blossom,
Fragile, strong as death;
A kiss from far-off Eden,
A flash of Judgment's trumpet—
April's breath.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Tiny Drop
Waste of Tiny, Tiny Water Drops.
Always Trigger my Conscious Thoughts.
A Tiny Water Drop can make a Sapling Laugh
Tiny, Tiny water Drops can get you sweet Pod.
Tiny, Tiny Water Drops can make a Plant to Stand
As a Tree, This can give Shelter to a Lot.
Because of Waste of Tiny, Tiny water Drops
Many lives have become short.
So try to save even tiny water Drop, Which will
Get you Heartily Laugh.
poem by Narendra Kuppan
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Scarlet And Sheba
Scarlet wants to hold me, wearing just a red-veiled hat
Sheba's in the shadows waiting for her turn at bat
In the parlour where the lights are low
A vulture sister act, I watch their show
They're trying to kill me, want to pick my bones
Methodically, erotically
I just want your body, Sheba
I don't want your brain
Scarlet gets what's left of my remains
I just want your body, Sheba
You lock me up in chains
Scarlet, she can referee the game
Scarlet likes to scold me, showers me with all her love
Sheba's in a bad mood, sharpening her black fur glove
With blood and honey attitude
They'll never know my gratitude
I'm crossed with longitude and latitude
Upon my back... with a crack
I just want your body, Sheba
I don't want your brain
Scarlet gets what's left of my remains
I just want your body, Sheba
You lock me up in chains
Scarlet, she can referee the game
I just want your body, Sheba
I don't want your brain
Scarlet gets what's left of my remains
I just want your body, Sheba
You lock me up in chains
Scarlet, she can referee the game
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Racism Is Not Justified
racism is based on how we are different
but that cannot be justified
we are the same on the inside
we all have feelings
we all have souls
no matter what colour flesh
we all bleed scarlet red
that warm scarlet
we all live off it
we all need it
we are all the same
the same where it truly counts
the inside counts
poem by Wandering Scarlet
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A Flower To Auroville Mother-100
Scarlet Cordia(Cordia sebestena)
Beach Cordia(Cordia subcordata)
Who's elder, who's younger
I don't know for certain
Who's taller, who's shorter
Sure I know for certain
Beach Cordia, so what if
On short trunk you are
But with orange motif
Sheeny leaved you are
With tiny pregnant fruits
Ambience is so enriched
With your orangy clusters
Immense peace bewitched
Ah, only moderately tall
ScarletCordia, yet true
Tubular clusters enthrall
Flowered with scarlet hue
Spring and summer toned
Orange lot more darkened
More with fruits charming
More with them as scenting
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Every radish I ever pulled up seemed to have a mortgage attached to it.
The Sunlit House
White, through the gate it gleamed and slept
In shattered sunshine. The parched garden flowers
Their scarlet petals from the beds unswept
Like children unloved and ill-kept
Dreamed through the hours Two blue hydrangeas by the blistered door burned brown
Watched there, and no one in the town
Cared to go past it night or day
Though why this was they wouldn't say
But I, the stranger, knew that I must stay.
Pace up the weed-grown paths and down -
Till one afternoon - there is just a doubt -
Bit I fancy I heard a tiny shout -
From an upper window a bird flew out -
And I went my way.
poem by Charlotte Mary Mew
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War....A Grey Matter....1914
Dulling grey eyes scour the landscape slate
Charcoal skies
Tipped with dishonest
Silver linings
Our hero slowly dies
Slipping as
Uniforms dash past
Darts of scarlet
Scratch the hopeless land
And
Faint voices cut the silence
In vile desperation
Our hero
Sand
Merely a removable object
Soon to be forgotten
Soon to be replaced by summers opulence
Whilst I just sit and write?
poem by Karen Sinclair
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Passion Of A Poet
in the world of the poet
passionate about his next poem
there are many trees reaching
high upon the skies
there are bluer skies up there
there are black and white birds
blending
day and nights
dusk and twilight
there will be more things to see
in colors and tastes and
scents of onions and
roses
there is no world as passionate as
a poet in love
with his craft
his beloved asleep in the beauty of her
closed eyes
his lips touching the nipples of her breasts
his tongue unraveling the magic
of a navel
in the world of the passionate poet
there are never aching eyes
perhaps only
an aching heart still wanting to embrace
so much love
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Relativity
I looked down on a daisied lawn
To where a host of tiny eyes
Of snow and gold from velvet shone
And made me think of starry skies.
I looked up to the vasty night
Where stars were very small indeed,
And in their galaxy of light
They made me think of daised mead.
I took a daisy in my hold;
Its snowy rays were tipped with rose,
And with its tiny boss of gold
I thought--how like a star it glows!
I dreamt I plucked from Heaven's field
A star and held it in my hand.
Said I: "The might of God I wield,
The Great and Small I understand."
For when the All is said and done,
In Time and Space I seem to see
A daisy equal to a sun,
Between heart-beats--Eternity
poem by Robert William Service
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White Winter Wonderland
Oh, these white winter walks exhilarate
As does the crisp frost tipped air
Blown 'cross the mountain tops and vales
Light as a butterfly-snow flakes so fair;
'Tis the whitest of white times
Heralding in all the holidays best
Celebration 'cross the countryside and nearby vales
Pass the most perilous of slippery road test;
Out upon the sod-a snowman or two
With building of snowcastles supreme
Oh, those white winter walks encite exuberance
Hence giving credence to my white winter dream;
As glorious winter makes her snowy bed
And the invigorating air chills to the bone
I am ever thankfu for this white winter world
And for all of the past winters i have known;
poem by Theodora Onken
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Radish is poison in the morning, food at noon and medicine in the evening.
The man pulling radishes
The man pulling radishes
pointed my way
with a radish.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Kobayashi Issa
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Gold-Tipped Boots, Black Jacket And Tie
I'm battered and bruised. I got lines I can't use.
My head won't deliver. Well, I'm sold down the river.
But I'm turning again.
And I'm turning again.
Wearing gold-tipped boots, black jacket and tie.
Well, I've been second to none:
this horse was ready to run.
Now I'm has-been and used:
disarmed and de-fused
but I'm turning again.
Yes, 'n' I'm turning again.
I'm turning again.
Wearing gold-tipped boots, black jacket and tie.
I'm egg over-easy
and I'm washing-up squeezy.
Appliance for sale:
fat wind in your sail
and I'm turning again.
Well, I'm turning again.
Yes, 'n' I'm turning again.
Wearing gold-tipped boots, black jacket and tie.
Well, I'm turning again
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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