I enjoy the cleaning up - something about the getting of things in order for winter - making the garden secure - a battening down of hatches perhaps... It just feels right.
quote by David Hobson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I started making some proper decisions, getting things in order. It's kind of like cleaning up your house. I was looking for direction for what God wanted me to do - and that's when I got a call about The Passion.
quote by Scott Stapp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Garden of simple things
There is a place
I embrace and call my own
Where seeds are sown and grown
A little pond lays quietly making splatters
When small or large stones are thrown
The garden of love
The garden of simple things
I go to when
I need to enjoy simple things
Embellished with trees of different shades
Leaves of various colours and blades
Ornament each patch of the ground
As roses of colour glow in and out
There is a place
With you I want to share
Whistles of bird sounds
Constantly fill the air
Announcing life's simple pleasures
That no one can actually measure
Reliving all of who are there
Temporarily of endless social pressures
Kids laugh and talk
People peacefully walk
Exempt from the noises
of cars and trucks
Exempt from argumentative or aggressive voices
Dogs stroll aside their masters
Lovers hold hands
Stealing away kisses in beauty spots
The garden of beauty
The garden of simple things
In winter or in spring
A peaceful wind is always blown
Trees and plants are carefully cultivated
To permit anyone at all to be strongly motivated
It is here I breathe the air without a care
There is simply no reason
In any season
Not to fall in love with
The garden of simple things
Copyright 2005 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In the Garden, With My Father
It is spring.
As in my garden, I stand.
In the garden -
My father is there;
... though long since gone...
He IS there.
I tend to the weeds,
The veggies and flowers...
He is there.
I never understood him
(as I should have, could have) ...
Until now,
Here, in the garden.
Where I, like he, work the soil.
I've come just recently
(these last few years)
To enjoy and love my garden so.
- I am not as surprised afterall, as I would have thought,
To find him here.
Here, in the garden.
He loved his garden very much.......
I - at that early age of restless youth - had no use
For such slow moving things.
But now, I see, and myself move, at a much slower pace.
Therefore, it is him I am here and now able to see,
In the garden.
Watching it all grow, so peacefully.
It is somewhat sad, that now,
When I can no longer tell him,
I understand.
For I have come to find... I love the garden too,
Just as much as he;
And we both always will.
My father - standing in the garden -
I now know.
After all these long years.
And I've missed him so;
But, how wonderful to find,
He IS here...
In the garden, our garden,
Always, with me.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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Garden Of Roses
My garden of roses is dead
All the most beautiful flowers have wilted
And now the winter is here
My garden of roses is dead
Like my love and my nurturing was nothing
And now the winter is here
My garden of roses is dead
Nothing but dust in the wind is left
And now the winter is here
My garden of roses is dead
Everything's gone and I feel so empty
And now the winter is here
poem by Triin Kann
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Spring In The Farmhouse
There stance a farmhouse on the countryside
With a lovely verdure flourishing alongside
Upon it the sun scintillates its golden light
There stance the farmhouse emitting delight!
At once I made it mine with all my means
Bid a goodbye to my old one and moves-
To enjoy the new treasure I did procure;
And live a happy life thereafter in secure
Slowly the summer turns warmer and warmer
Making life in my farmhouse harder and harder
I wish for sweet spring season to be near
Barren is my garden, no flowers anywhere!
Walks in the autumn in its mousy shoes
Naked are the woods; farewell to leaves
Oh! dear colourful spring where you are
Barren is my garden, no flowers anywhere!
My body and soul has become rigid
of the winter out there that is frigid
Craving for spring, take out the tools
I sow the land, to welcome the blooms.
Arrives at my doorstep the spring at last
Brings me joy that would everlast
Like a bride on her wedding day
She brings into my life the heyday
I relish my life's blissful solitude,
Basking in my farmhouse's pulchritude!
poem by Mayasanal Suryakalady
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In The Winter Garden
Winter has visited our garden my love
Trees have been stripped bare and flowers wilt
A frost has been laid upon the ground
Even the birds have taken to flight, away
Amid the silence of the morning I walk
Through our garden which we nurtured
How solemn it now looks without colour
The summer seems but a distant memory
How beautiful it looked back then
How beautiful it will look once more
But now in the mornings drab light
With barren trees and wilted flowers
I walk upon the hardened earth
Which feels like stone beneath my feet
We talked of planting a fruit tree
For flavour and shade in years to come
Now that is an idea in waiting
Till winter has passed, and spring returns
Winter is here in our garden my love
As I watch the vapour of my breath rise
I say your name, a love for all time
poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I always clean before the cleaning lady comes. If not, when I come home, I can't find anything. Cleaning ladies are always hiding things you leave out.
quote by Celia Cruz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Winter
The misty snow,
and the dew drops.
As the snow falls,
my hot coffee pops.
The leaves are dry,
and I do cry.
My garden blows,
and my tears flow.
With cold and coughs,
my time is tough.
Doctor-Doctor do we run
and then there is no fun.
To go to school,
feels like a fool.
Its good to sleep,
and in the rug i creep.
Jersey and Jacket, Socks and caps,
are my winter pairs.
With them I have a nap,
and they are my winter cares.
Pizzas, Wraps and Biscuits,
are my winter bakes.
Hot chocolate, Milo and coffee,
are my winter shakes.
The room is warm,
as firewood is on.
The room is calm,
as music is on.
And the winter goes on and on.
poem by Anju Addanki
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Society could subsist even if everyone does nothing
You worry much
Doing this and that
Cooking the rice
Washing the laundry
Cleaning the house
Feeding the pigs
Cleaning the yard
You are doing everything
And taking everything
You are having the
Burden of this world
And I pity you
I am here
Sitting watching
The sunrise
And marveling
And I
Simply wonder
About everything
Everyday
All these things
Are always new
To me
And this
Afternoon
I will be marveling
At the orange ness
And redness of
Sunset
The cool evening
The glitters of stars
And the song of
Night birds
And the hymns
Of the nearby
Church
And you complain
Of back pains
And a sprained
Leg and a cracking
Bone and a nerve
Wracked and wrecked
The problem with
You is you are
Overworking
You are at fault
Society could
Subsist
Even if everyone
Did nothing
I have things
And nature
To enjoy
And talents
Not to
Waste
The society where I live can subsist even if I do nothing.
And you are not a part of it. You refused to.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cold Winter
Ive seen you, cold winter,
I know you, cold winter.
You showed me no mercy,
Still I shant forget[? ] the warning.
Youll never know how it feels to be loved.
I know you, cold winter,
You broke my heart, cold winter.
I missed you, warm summer,
Never thought Id see you, cold summer.
Youll never know how it feels to be loved.
I thank you, cold winter,
Never leave that game[? ] to lifes story.
You healed me, cold winter,
You taught me how to face the morning.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Affair Belongs to Spring
Sweet is the smell of trees.
Budding in the sunlight.
When Winter has gone...
And Spring begins to spread.
Creeping from a Winter unforgiving.
Green are the grapes on vines,
Growing in some gardens.
Lifted are blades of grass,
Surrounding flowers yet to bloom.
Making room for Spring,
Has got to have Winter whimpering.
So much laughter now has passed,
With holidays and memories to last.
But stored and packed to dust.
Cleaning up we must for Spring.
To witness beauty Spring can bring.
When we are in fresh air...
It is easier to leave the past alone.
Leave it there!
This affair belongs to Spring!
And Sing we do
To reunite
What this all means,
As Mother Nature brings new scenes!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Spring Cleaning
Clean away the cobwebs
make light of dirt and grime
wave high those feather dusters
it's now spring cleaning time
for spring's first day has broken
and those windows must be cleaned
cold winter's grey has gone away
replaced with fresher scenes
ah! the joy of such spring cleaning
oh! the joy of household life
sometimes i am the paragon
of a 1950's wife!
poem by David Keig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Autumn
Here it is autumn,
the leaves are turning
from green to gold and red.
As the days, get shorter
as we head
towards winter’s wonderland,
which is not that far ahead.
However, while we have it
lets enjoy the autumn sun
and the wonderful colours
that brings our way.
Lets enjoy it while we have it
for all too soon it will be gone
replaced by the winter
and its frosty song
when the world becomes
winter white again.
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Spring Cleaning Day
Spring Cleaning Day*
The strain of a deep winter's frost
Has taken it's toll and I've paid the cost
Layers of loam, dust and grime
Have collected and built up over time
Spring now arrives, newness begins
But my windowed soul is still in a spin
Try as I must to chisel away
The soot on my soul for it's spring cleaning day
*inspired by GIG
21 May 2008
A Big Or Brief Poetry......!
Big or brief, what is poetry?
Poetry is......
Creating beauty out of blemish,
Making order out of disorder,
Producing meaning out of musical words,
Creating Universal truth out of trivialities,
Arranging points out of less known facts!
Is poetry just making rhythm and rhyme
Without meaning, life, force and taste,
Without free flowing musical words,
Without words of music, beauty, fun?
Poetry is free flowing river of words
With full of images, lively and lovely,
Transporting from this world to that world
Forgetting himself and readers here!
Just end rhyme is not enough to make it so;
Internal rhymes make music in rhythm
Making all enjoy music, meaning and ideas!
Poetry is the medium to say complex things
Not possible to say in other forms of language,
Saying unknown things using known things;
It is sound, substance, message and meaning!
And many more matters to many men in the world!
poem by Ramesh T A
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The trick of making movies in this culture is how to not give up everything that makes them worthwhile in order to get them made - and that's a tricky balance.
quote by Alex Winter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Congress has historically played covert communal politics in order to create what in India we call vote banks where you pit one community against another and so on in order to secure votes.
quote by Arundhati Roy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Beauty of Love!
I enjoy beauty of star studded night sky;
I enjoy beauty of harmonious waves of sea;
I enjoy beauty of peaceful living of people;
I enjoy beauty of natural poems of poets!
Beauty of human life I enjoy in all forms;
Beauty of fun loving children I enjoy often;
Beauty of smiling flowers I enjoy in garden;
Beauty of art work I enjoy in all forms ever!
World is full of beauty Nature bestows to all;
World is paradise due to love and beauty ever;
World is the abode of man's cultural refinement;
World is the spring board to heaven at the end!
Beauty of love is eternal for all to enjoy in life
Evolving animal into man and man into divine!
poem by Ramesh T A
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What we're doing is making sure that we have a safe and secure border region from San Diego all the way to Brownsville. And that means manpower, it means technology, it means infrastructure, it means interior enforcement. All, you know, kind of layered in appropriate ways, and making sure, like I said before, the border is safe and secure.
quote by Janet Napolitano
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In My Secret Garden
In my secret garden...,
I shall present to you the things that I enjoy privately the most.
In my secret garden...,
I shall present to you the most horrible times of my life.
In my secret garden...,
I shall tell you who I love.
In my secret garden...,
I shall share with you the most happiest times I have ever known.
In my secret garden...,
I share both my political and personal opinions.
In my secret garden...,
The stories will not always rhyme or make sense at the time.
In my secret garden...,
Their will be ramblings that one will not be able to understand.
In my secret garden...,
Their will be questions unanswered.
In my secret garden...,
Grows a tree.
Only time will tell if it is truly meant be.
The flow destiny.
Riddled with flaws that cause a due pause.
A hesitation in a time of meditation.
Will it reveal a revelation?
With time as the contemplation.
I leave to you nothing but mere thoughts.
Straight from both my head and heart.
With patients as my virtue, I still might never have my true start.
A unfinished, undocumented, and incomplete works.
Even with the greatest dedication I still at times get stuck.
It is as much a mental block as rotten luck.
I've always said it comes waves.
And it does, I can't turn it on and off as I like.
It chooses when and where.
I write both in love and in despair.
Some times this leaves the dependability up in the air.
But it will not stop me from living as one lives.
To take in the moment, draw it on a canvas, and describe it as my own.
Most of the time I do this all alone.
For theirs something wrong with me.
I enjoy my silence.
I enjoy my seclusion.
I enjoy my indifference.
Wrong as it is, I think I've been hurt just too many times.
To go back and make the right friends to make a better ending.
My happily ever after has always been disaster.
And I credit no fault but to my own doing.
I will never live upon a such a lie or illusion.
I was a fool with a big heart.
And now I am a fool with no heart.
Nothing in between so it seems.
A redemption that will not be redeemed.
In many ways I have come clean.
Rid my soul of the guilt of a lot of dirty deeds.
In this I feel better no matter what is achieved.
Goals to high, and I just can never focus on one thing.
A master nothing but the emptiness I have created for myself.
Like a bed in which I have been forever in a slumber.
So many ask so much of me.
And it gets so complicated
It's like take number.
A overwhelming feeling.
I'm swamped and I'm making a little to nothing in headway.
With this my lord I pray you will take me to a different place.
One where I fit in to the common race.
An ugly uniqueness, in which I'm sure any compliments shouldn't be given.
Trying to make so many decisions.
Which ones matter the most?
Triage upon a battle field.
So many wounded soldiers.
Will I ever be able to bring them enough closure.
Just let tide take me back out to the ocean.
Float away into the unknown and uncharted waters.
Just maybe there it will be a little calmer.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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