Related quotes: I. An old man sits...

Six Significant Landscapes

I.
An old man sits
In the shadow of a pine tree
In China.
He sees larkspur,
Blue and white,
At the edge of the shadow,
Move in the wind.
His beard moves in the wind.
The pine tree moves in the wind.
Thus water flows
Over weeds.

II.
The night is of the colour
Of a woman's arm:
Night, the female,
Obscure,
Fragrant and supple,
Conceals herself.
A pool shines,
Like a bracelet
Shaken in a dance.

III.
I measure myself
Against a tall tree.
I find that I am much taller,
For I reach right up to the sun,
With my eye;
And I reach to the shore of the sea
With my ear.
Nevertheless, I dislike
The way ants crawl
In and out of my shadow.

IV.
When my dream was near the moon,
The white folds of its gown
Filled with yellow light.
The soles of its feet
Grew red.
Its hair filled
With certain blue crystallizations
From stars,
Not far off.

V.
Not all the knives of the lamp-posts,
Nor the chisels of the long streets,
Nor the mallets of the domes
And high towers,
Can carve
What one star can carve,
Shining through the grape-leaves.

VI.
Rationalists, wearing square hats,
Think, in square rooms,
Looking at the floor,
Looking at the ceiling.
They confine themselves
To right-angled triangles.
If they tried rhomboids,
Cones, waving lines, ellipses --
As, for example, the ellipse of the half-moon --
Rationalists would wear sombreros.

poem by Wallace Stevens
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Related quotes

Images

Like a gondola of green scented fruits
Drifting along the dark canals of Venice,
You, O exquisite one,
Have entered into my desolate city.

The blue smoke leaps
Like swirling clouds of birds vanishing.
So my love leaps forth toward you,
Vanishes and is renewed.

III

A rose-yellow moon in a pale sky
When the sunset is faint vermilion
In the mist among the tree-boughs
Art thou to me, my beloved.

A young beech tree on the edge of the forest
Stands still in the evening,
Yet shudders through all its leaves in the light air
And seems to fear the stars -
So are you still and so tremble.

The red deer are high on the mountain,
They are beyond the last pine trees.
And my desires have run with them.

The flower which the wind has shaken
Is soon filled again with rain;
So does my heart fill slowly with tears,
Until you return.

poem by Richard Aldington
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Happy Tree

Winter cold breeze,
Tree freezy.
The hand of Tree shakes as the wind blew.
So cold tree turn icy blue,
under blue moon night.
Lucky me,
Have a home to keep me dream.
Sweet as white cream,
So sad Tree.
I want Tree to be as happy as me,
Take my puffy blanket,
Roll Treedy like a sushi roll.
Good dream, creamy Tree.
My happy Tree.

poem by Dong123321 4931
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Moon Glow

The darkest night, flows with a
wind hush through open blackness.
Ya'ever see the moon glow?
Ya' ever hear the wind whisper?
Rivulets spill with water
across the mountain plains;
as liquid rolls down along the steep slope-
ya'ever see the moon glow?
Ya' ever hear the wind whisper?
Stars glitter through sparkles
of the darkest night.
Wind cold breeze swifts;
swiftly into space.
Laughter engulfs the moon light.
Ya' ever see the moon glow?
Ya' ever hear the wind whisper?
Moon light angles corners,
as sweet melodies swell into air,
of silence.
You ever sight the bird dance,
as shadow flicker
upon the moon?
Ya' ever see the moon glow?
Ya' ever hear the wind whisper?

poem by Celine Berghmans
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Pine Tree in My House

A tree that grows in my garden
A robust pine tree
Stands big and Proud
Sinks its roots deeply into the Earth

A pine tree in my house
Spreads its seeds every where
Sheds needles all over
Drops big cones onto my lawn
Survives within the sun
Ambles forth in all direction s with each gust of wind
Bends over the roaring storm
Tosses its branches in magnificent enthusiasm
Attracts the colors of a million sunsets into its needles leaves
Sways gracefully with the wind
Whispers with the blowing breeze
Cuddles joyfully with the changing seasons
Tries to reach the sky!
Looks beautiful in a peaceful state,
Is wise in its silence
Grows lush in all seasons
Allows the birds to perch and soar
Never holds them back
Never pines for their return when they fly away
If our hearts were like pine trees
We would have no apprehension in our minds
No one would wish to bring us down
No one would wake us up at night

A pine tree in my house
I Call it the tree of paradise
What I’ve got, I know it matters
For paradise, I wish to pave the way!

poem by Dr Shamim ali
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shadows

Let me reach out love and touch you
Let me hold you for awhile
Ive been all around the world
Oh how I long to see you smile
Theres a shadow on the moon
And the waters here below
Do not shine the way they should
And I love you just in case you didnt know
Let it go,
Let it happen like it happened once before
Its a wicked wind
And it chills me to the bone
And if you do not believe me
Come and gaze upon the shadow at your door
Wont you lie down by me baby
Run your fingers through my hands
Ive been all around the town
And still I do not understand
Is it me or is it you
Or the shadow of a dream
Is it wrong to be in love
Could it be the finest love Ive ever seen
Set it free,
Let it happen like it happened once before
Its a wicked wind
And it chills me to the bone
And if you do not believe me
Come and gaze upon the shadow at your door
Please kiss me gently darlin
Where the river runs away
From the mountains in the springtime
On a blue and windy day
When theres beauty all around
As the shades of night grow deep
As the morning stars grow dim
They will find us in the shadows fast asleep
Let it go,
Let it happen like it happened once before
Its a wicked wind
And it chills me to the bone
And if you do not believe me
Come and gaze upon the shadow at your door

song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Generations

You are like the stem
Of a young beech-tree,
Straight and swaying,
Breaking out in golden leaves.
Your walk is like the blowing of a beech-tree
On a hill.
Your voice is like leaves
Softly struck upon by a South wind.
Your shadow is no shadow, but a scattered sunshine;
And at night you pull the sky down to you
And hood yourself in stars.

But I am like a great oak under a cloudy sky,
Watching a stripling beech grow up at my feet.

poem by Amy Lowell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Snow wonderland

Matching scratches
White square patterns, design by print feet.
Back and forward & square.

Walking straight to shine light & moving shadow
Reflect the way home
Cold needles are sewing the red faces looking around.

Everything is enchanted by light and mud.
Pine tree green cover in a sweet icing.
Drops, smoking, cold melting ice
On my hands warmed pocket.

Broken snow, walking on the front steps.
Inside the house, outside a paint window
Nature a great painter.

After the night.
Museum of white morning colours
Shouting scarf's and boots
Angels games.
Raining melting tree.
Warm grey sky.

White bushes with orange and red berry faces.
White pyramids of smoking chimney.
Keeping warm thrones.

poem by Luca Menin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Wind in the Hemlock

Steely stars and moon of brass,
How mockingly you watch me pass!
You know as well as I how soon
I shall be blind to stars and moon,
Deaf to the wind in the hemlock tree,
Dumb when the brown earth weighs on me.

With envious dark rage I bear,
Stars, your cold complacent stare;
Heart-broken in my hate look up,
Moon, at your clear immortal cup,
Changing to gold from dusky red --
Age after age when I am dead
To be filled up with light, and then
Emptied, to be refilled again.

What has man done that only he
Is slave to death -- so brutally
Beaten back into the earth
Impatient for him since his birth?

Oh let me shut my eyes, close out
The sight of stars and earth and be
Sheltered a minute by this tree.
Hemlock, through your fragrant boughs
There moves no anger and no doubt,
No envy of immortal things.
The night-wind murmurs of the sea
With veiled music ceaselessly,
That to my shaken spirit sings.
From their frail nest the robins rouse,
In your pungent darkness stirred,
Twittering a low drowsy word --
And me you shelter, even me.
In your quietness you house
The wind, the woman and the bird.
You speak to me and I have heard:

"If I am peaceful, I shall see
Beauty's face continually;
Feeding on her wine and bread
I shall be wholly comforted,
For she can make one day for me
Rich as my lost eternity."

poem by Sara Teasdale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Chanpa Flower

Supposing I became a chanpa flower, just for fun, and grew on a
branch high up that tree, and shook in the wind with laughter and
danced upon the newly budded leaves, would you know me, mother?
You would call, "Baby, where are you?" and I should laugh to
myself and keep quite quiet.
I should slyly open my petals and watch you at your work.
When after your bath, with wet hair spread on your shoulders,
you walked through the shadow of the champ tree to the little court
where you say your prayers, you would notice the scent of the
flower, but not know that it cane from me.
When after the midday meal you sat at the window reading
ramayana, and the tree's shadow fell over your hair and your lap,
I should fling my wee little shadow on to the page of your book,
just where you were reading.
But would you guess that it was the tiny shadow of your
little child?
When in the evening you went to the cow shed with the lighted
lamp in your hand I should suddenly drop on to the earth again and
be your own baby once more, and beg you to tell me a story.
"Where have you been, you naughty child?"
"I won't tell you, mother." That's what you and I would say
then.

poem by Rabindranath Tagore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A View

driftwood
with seven twigs
on the shore
as clear as glass
is the water
and all stones and pebbles
are visible

above
blue skies
so blue that the white cotton clouds
appear like sperm cells moving
impregnating
an earth-sky womb

and then
it rains
the water rises
the drift wood again taken
floating
gently to another shore
another island
of white sands

a coconut tree towers
to reach a waft of cloud
winds as cool as ice
sands slipping on the fingers
a leaf from a guyabano tree falls
on the mouth
of a sleeping woman
beside her
the man whose arms are enclosing
her throughout
the rainy night

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A White Architect Of Light

8.8.88: She came back from the land of democrative destiny and dissolved
into the chaotic void.
Fighting for the freedom of reality
Building the light house in the darkest hours of life
Fixing up the spiritual essence through the existential nothingness
in the valueless zone

Layers by layers, realities of life theatre are turned into distilled light
out of trapped reflections

Mother of modern Myanmar honoured by consciencious tree of life
Curving away all the unnecessary parts
Curving away all the necessary parts
Communication revolution of the 21 st century
Aung San Su Kyi, The White Architect Of Light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light

Aung San Su Kyi, The White Architect Of Light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light

poem by Nyein Way
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Old Pine Tree

'Listen my child,' said the old pine
tree, to the little one nestling near,
'For the storm clouds troop together to-night,
and the wind of the north I hear
And perchance there may come some echo of
the music of long ago,
The music that rang when the White Host
sang, marching across the snow.'

'Up and away Saint George! up thro' the
mountain gorge,
Over the plain where the tempest blows, and
the great white flakes are flying
Down the long narrow glen! faster my merry
men,
Follow the trail, tho' shy moon hides, and
deeply the drifts are lying.'

'Ah! mother.' the little pine tree replied,
'you are dreaming again to-night
Of ghostly visions and phantom forms that for-
ever mock your sight
'Tis true moan of the winter wind comes
to my list'ning ear
But the White Host marching, I cannot see,
and their music I cannot hear.'

'When the northern skies were all aflame
where the trembling banners swung,
When up in the vaulted heavens the moon of
the Snow Shoe hung,
When the hurricane swept the hillside, and the
crested drifts ran high
Those were the nights,' said the old pine tree,
'the great White Host marched by.'

And the storm grew fiercer, fiercer, and the
snow went hissing past,
But the little pine tree still listened, till she
heard above the blast
The music her mother loved to hear in the
nights of the long ago
And saw in the forest the white-clad Host
marching across the snow.

And loud they sang as they tramped along of
the glorious bygone days
Whan valley and hill re-echeoed the snow-
shoer's hymn of praise
Till the shy moon gazed down smiling, and the
north wind pause to hear
And the old pine tree felt young again as the
little one nestling near.

'Up and away Saint George! up thro' the
mountain gorge.
Over the plain where the tempest blows, and
the great white flakes are flying.
Down the long narrow glen! faster my merry
men.
Follow the trail, tho' the shy moon hides, and
deeply the drifts are lying.'

poem by William Henry Drummond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fantasy...

A tree and its shadow
And a dreamy meadow
Waiting for someone....

The Shadow asks ' how is she doing? '
Tree whispers ' shhh! sleeping'
'oops! sorry' says shadow and waits
waiting...they are for the flower that sleeps
on a thin green brunch of the tree
The tree, now drowsy, as sun
Readies itself to set, for the night
and the little shadow? it grows unwatched
With the dimming light

The Tree sleeps,
The meadow sleeps
Huts sleep
and the man inside it
Is in slumber too
Tiny little shadow grows into night
Embraces life with darkness punctured with lights

Dawn Awakes
Sun rays come running back to the tree
Tree asks 'my shadow? where IS he? '
the Tallest palm tree, sky abreast
says 'i think I saw him running northwest! '

The Shadow creeps in and stands upon a pebble
Says ' i wana see...i wana see! ' with boyish charm

Then The flower finally falls
Into shadow's lap
'shh! she's still taking a nap! '
says tree to his friend

Wind blows, it wants to play with her
The sleeping beauty, The flower
'Look! Look! ...she's smiling!
She's happy! she must be dreaming! '
The shadow hushes, excited!

A girl comes out of the hut...
Takes the flower, the sweet, from Shadows lap
What will you do with her, little girl?
She's taking a nap! '

'I'll play with it', the little girl says
The Shadow starts crying
The tree wishpers...
' dont cry dear...let it be...
Tommorrow morning You'll see
Our flower is back with us
On your lap she's lying!

Night comes again
Tree and its shadow sleeps
with Dreamy smiles on their lips

Dawn brings light to the tree and shadow
They wake up and see
Adorned with Dew drops like some rare gems
Their Sweet little flower is back with them!

poem by Saurabh Som
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Balloon Faces

The Balloons hang on wires in the Marigold Gardens.
They spot their yellow and gold, they juggle their blue and red, they float their faces on the face of the sky.
Balloon face eaters sit by hundreds reading the eat cards, asking, “What shall we eat?”—and the waiters, “Have you ordered?” they are sixty balloon faces sifting white over the tuxedoes.
Poets, lawyers, ad men, mason contractors, smartalecks discussing “educated jackasses,” here they put crabs into their balloon faces.
Here sit the heavy balloon face women lifting crimson lobsters into their crimson faces, lobsters out of Saragossa sea bottoms.
Here sits a man cross-examining a woman, “Where were you last night? What do you do with all your money? Who’s buying your shoes now, anyhow?”
So they sit eating whitefish, two balloon faces swept on God’s night wind.
And all the time the balloon spots on the wires, a little mile of festoons, they play their own silence play of film yellow and film gold, bubble blue and bubble red.
The wind crosses the town, the wind from the west side comes to the banks of marigolds boxed in the Marigold Gardens.
Night moths fly and fix their feet in the leaves and eat and are seen by the eaters.
The jazz outfit sweats and the drums and the saxophones reach for the ears of the eaters.
The chorus brought from Broadway works at the fun and the slouch of their shoulders, the kick of their ankles, reach for the eyes of the eaters.
These girls from Kokomo and Peoria, these hungry girls, since they are paid-for, let us look on and listen, let us get their number.

Why do I go again to the balloons on the wires, something for nothing, kin women of the half-moon, dream women?
And the half-moon swinging on the wind crossing the town—these two, the half-moon and the wind—this will be about all, this will be about all.

Eaters, go to it; your mazuma pays for it all; it’s a knockout, a classy knockout—and payday always comes.

poem by Carl Sandburg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Watch The Moon From My Maple Tree

As I watch the moon
So quietly
From high above
In my maple tree

I see the stars
That shine all night
They speak to me
Making sure I'm alright

My life is hard
But I'm ok
Watching the show
With nothing to say

As the moon and the stars
Dance the night away
I sit and stare
Like I can't in the day

When I'm up so high
I feel so free
Happy and safe
In my maple tree

The moon is the sun
That shines in the dark
I can see it from bed
Or from way in the park

It helps me a lot
The moon is my guide
And 'I love that old tree'
I queitly sighed

poem by Miranda Van Yperen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Whole Of The Moon

I pictured a rainbow
You held in your hands
I had flashes
But you saw then plan
I wondered out in the world for years
While you just stayed in your room
I saw the crescent
You saw the whole of the moon!
The whole of the moon!
You were there at the turnstiles
With the wind at your heels
You stretched for the stars
And you know how it feels
To reach too high
Too far
Too soon
You saw the whole of the moon!
I was grounded
While you filled the skies
I was dumbfounded by truths
You cut through lies
I saw the rain-dirty valley
You saw brigadoon
I saw the crescent
You saw the whole of the moon!
I spoke about wings
You just flew
I wondered, I guessed, and I tried
You just knew
I sighed
But you swooned
I saw the crescent
You saw the whole of the moon!
The whole of the moon!
With a torch in your pocket
And the wind at your heels
You climbed on the ladder
And you know how it feels
To reach too high
Too far
Too soon
You saw the whole of the moon!
The whole of the moon!
Unicorns and cannonballs,
Palaces and piers,
Trumpets, towers, and tenemets,
Wide oceans full of tears,
Flag, rags, ferry boats,
Scimitars and scarves,
Every precious dream and vision
Underneath the stars
You climbed on the ladder
With the wind in your sails
You came like a comet
Blazing your trail
Too high
Too far
Too soon
You saw the whole of the moon!

song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Invocation II

COME to-night in a dream to-night,
Come as you used to do,
Come in the gown, in the gown of white,
Come in the ribbon of blue;
Come in the virgin's colours you wear,
Come through the dark and the dew,
Come with the scent of the night in your hair,
Come as you used to do.

Blue and white of your eyes and your face,
White of your gown and blue,
Will you not come from the happy place,
Come as you used to do?
Tears so many, so many tears
Where there were once so few--
Can they not wash the gray of the years
From the white of your gown and blue?

poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Rainbow Of Sounds

This twilight sky
Is like an indigo-orange symphony,
In which the light is absorbed
To be decomposed in corpuscles.
It may be ours until we die.
I may be your tree-woman, a Ginkgo,
That Ginkgo having a stony trunk
And pure violet spiritual eyes
To look at you,
While the leaves are trembling
Their green sound.
Slowly, you may become my tree-lover-man,
While a star in the universe is dying for our love.
I may feel that force aspiring the quanta of light
Near you.
Come and be my black infinity,
While this earth is cracking its crust
From time to time
And especially now
As at any end of the time.
Wind is your embrace,
Next to this field of Nepal poppies trembling their hypnotic
Red melodious shadow
And near this ripe wheat field
Loudly shaking its tired yellow.
The wind is crazily singing and dancing around.
I seemingly hear some astral blue songs.
It's like a jazz blues chord progression.
Our leaves cling to its long hair.
I feel the rainbow of sounds,
I feel this love.

poem by Marieta Maglas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Blue Moon Of Kentucy

Well blue moon of kentucky keep on shining,
Shine on the one thats gone and left me blue.
Well blue moon of kentucky keep on shining,
Shine on the one thats gone and left me blue.
Well, it was on one moonlight night, well stars shining bright,
Wind blowin high my love said good-bye.
Blue moon of kentucky keep on shining.
Shine on the one thats gone and left me blue.
Well, it was on one moonlight night, stars shining bright,
Wind blowin high love said good-bye.
Blue moon of kentucky, keep on shining.
Shine on the one thats gone and left me blue.
[uptempo]
Well blue moon, blue moon, blue moon, keep shining bright.
Well blue moon, keep on shining bright,
Youre gonna bring me back my baby tonight,
Blue moon, yeh keep shining bright.
Blue moon of kentucky keep on shining,
Shine on the one thats gone and left me blue.
Well blue moon of kentucky keep on shining,
Shine on the one thats gone and left me blue.
Well, it was on one moonlight night, stars shining bright,
Wind blowin high my love said good-bye.
Blue moon of kentucky keep on shining.
Shine on the one thats gone and left me blue.
Shine on the one thats gone and left me blue.

song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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And I Under The Moon

The jug and I under the moon
and my lips around the neck of the bottle of wine,
by the moon light is it full of the flowers dew,
I pour the scarcity of each dropp and it's association
against the bamboo and I watch to need the heron it's
crest off i see it go by as a dragons shadow independently.
Moving off, 'Therefore before the lifting of the glass,
I invite you because of our friendship,
revalations are made as to my shadow which then makes up
the moon myself and it's our three.
Is it not known my shadow follows each movement of my body
swaying as the leaves from which the rice it makes is simply.
Moon of moon shining down between shows us company
and my shadow because I am by you for wine maintained,
as to the spring flowing forth nothing is forever
and would be assisted wise are you adjusted too practice
each our lips the neck of the bottle of wine our pleasure.
As for me and as for you the moon I who am I have begun
babmboo in sleep before I go, the stand gently rising,
you dance and the shadow it moves strangely
and with you including swan song.
I' Between; Still you be looking up at the dark sky
moon smiling down and of which you are consciously, moving.
Afterwards, and you rejoice mutually; exclusively then thus do I
and Each one tried where it was, we laid down our heads
friend of moon, knew us drunk to go off searching for the shadow of your friend. Passion is less this night when travelling.
Under the moon and friends are friends, permits that fact, we are.

l.p.

poem by Is It Poetry
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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