Lyonesse
In Lyonesse was beauty enough, men say:
Long Summer loaded the orchards to excess,
And fertile lowlands lengthening far away,
In Lyonesse.
Came a term to that land's old favoredness:
Past the sea-walls, crumbled in thundering spray,
Rolled the green waves, ravening, merciless.
Through bearded boughs immobile in cool decay,
Where sea-bloom covers corroding palaces,
The mermaid glides with a curious glance to-day,
In Lyonesse.
poem by Alan Seeger
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Sunk Lyonesse
In sea-cold Lyonesse,
When the Sabbath eve shafts down
On the roofs, walls, belfries
Of the foundered town,
The Nereids pluck their lyres
Where the green translucency beats,
And with motionless eyes at gaze
Make ministrely in the streets.
And the ocean water stirs
In salt-worn casement and porch.
Plies the blunt-nosed fish
With fire in his skull for torch.
And the ringing wires resound;
And the unearthly lovely weep,
In lament of the music they make
In the sullen courts of sleep:
Whose marble flowers bloom for aye:
And - lapped by the moon-guiled tide -
Mock their carver with heart of stone,
Caged in his stone-ribbed side.
poem by Walter de la Mare
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Sonnet XX
IN vaine I seeke and sew to her for grace,
and doe myne humbled hart before her poure:
the whiles her foot she in my necke doth place,
and tread my life downe in the lowly floure.
And yet the Lyon that is Lord of power,
and reigneth ouer euery beast in field:
in his most pride disdeigneth to deuoure
the silly lambe that to his might doth yield.
But she more cruell and more saluage wylde,
then either Lyon or the Lyonesse:
shames not to be with guiltlesse bloud defylde,
but taketh glory in her cruelnesse.
Fayrer then fayrest let none euer say,
that ye were blooded in a yeelded pray.
poem by Edmund Spenser
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Thundering Hearts
In these long, hot summer days
Need a way to cool ourselves down
Pop off the top of that chevrolet
Drive through the carwash
Laugh and fall around
Smokin the old ducados the old man got down in spain
Eatin eggs and french fries on the side
Ride that harley davidson in the hot summer heat
Lord knows that I just love to ride
Go by and pick up that kentucky girl
She knew me when I got my start
Oh yeah, those were diferent days...
Chorus:
In the valley of the thundering hearts
Thundering hearts
Thundering hearts
Thundering hearts
Get your crazy hair, girl, right on my face
This old rednecks on fire, burnin? up
Give us a kiss, baby, make it on the same place
Humiditys about to drive me all crazy wild
Pretty soon the sun will be goin? down
And this little town will be cool and dark
Forget about heaven. let me stay here forever
Chorus:
In the valley of the thundering hearts
Thundering hearts
Thundering hearts
Thundering hearts
song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hurricane Watch
Green. Green the leaves,
and waves gray on the forehead of the beach.
As easy as breeze tensing lengths of hair
waves lift, then snap back like springs.
Trees bend and kneel, fling out brown arms
to catch their running children.
Green. Green the leaves, and wind
pours on the forehead of the beach.
See how sand wrinkles in the lee,
and anchors part like lovers
from invisible chains. Ships break
then run their length to freedom.
Green. Green the weeds,
and sea foams on the forehead of the beach.
Women’s names swim to greet the waves.
And sea sings, “Eve. Eve. Eve.” Mermaid
who set her cap for them, she beckons each
figurehead to her pale and smiling reach.
Green. Green the waves,
and spray glistening on the forehead of the beach.
Her arms catch and embrace hulls like shoulders.
Bold as dolphins they leap to her lips before she
slaps away the face of any sailor so foolish.
Gray. Gray the waves, and flotsam
in pieces grinding on the wet stones of the beach.
poem by Val Morehouse
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A Sunday Prayer 02
Oh Lord, as I look around,
at our green and wonderful world,
that you bequeathed to us.
Help us in our endeavours,
to make it stay that way.
Help us turn the tide of greed,
which wants to destroy what we have.
Help us nurture this green and fertile land,
so that we cannot only live here,
but all of your other creatures too,
from the largest to the smallest,
we all need guidance
from your sacred hands,
so that our planet,
stays a green and fertile land.
Amen
poem by David Harris
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11.3
Have you ever seen my city?
The water flows free, like a river
through the streets.
My beautiful city.
During summer
cherry blossom, green grass, sunshine
the okiya, and jiin
Smiles and waves in the streets of
my city
now left with greif and pity.
Water, silver, mixed shades of brown and green
rushes past, flowing fast
stealing away people's world.
Filling the remains of a tea house
red, gold, glint as they float away.
A sofa lies in the midst of a field
stood alone, survival, vivid green,
perhaps it once belonged
to a family, like me or you.
Have you ever seen my city?
Beautiful, as it was, nothing
could compare
Now only left a waste land of destruction
after the quake tore through
and the waves rolled in
and my city, a lake now lies.
poem by Mia Rennow
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The Little Mermaid
The sun shone brightly in the sky,
Crowned with a rainbow there,
While seagulls boldly chose to fly,
As if without a care...
As clouds rolled by ablaze with light,
A ship sailed to the shore,
Above the waves both blue and white
That danced forever more...
Below the waves where dolphins leapt,
Triumphant full of glee,
The little mermaid's dreams were kept
And nestled tenderly...
Her Father's Kingdom full of grace
And wonders rarely known
Were not enough to take the place
Of dreams she called her own...
The little mermaid made her way,
From water to the land,
Where one man took her breath away
The day he held her hand...
Two beating hearts were now as one,
With joy more than enough,
Beneath God's brilliant golden sun,
Where lovers fall in love...
The young man smiled, for he had found,
A treasure trove divine,
More beautiful than all around,
In her, his Valentine...
The little mermaid's dreams came true,
He kissed her once, then twice,
The day he told her, 'I love you! '
Was simply Paradise...
Denis Martindale, copyright, May 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Thomas Kinkade called 'The Little Mermaid'.
The Disney art paintings are on the website:
thomaskinkade-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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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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The african mermaid
Africa our mother's land
Beauty of our mother's land is like a mermaid
I will never forget her for the rest of my life
Let us appreciate her for we are raise from there
Land of unity and pride
Africa, land of fertility and minerals
I hail you with my heart africa
Africa the beautiful mermaid.
poem by Segun Odukoya
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Rockport...Visual Imagery
Pea green sea squalls,
Whorled out of a Nor’easter
Ping with the sting of the ocean’s spray.
Wind roped ocean waves
Lope, in the wind sail gales,
The chilled cheeks of my taut face,
Shouting windward and away...
Far up the winding slate rock walls of the jetty;
The wreckage of a whaler, among white caps
And Narwhale bones.
The bowsprit of the sea,
Rises like a fish tale out of the coast:
The imagined mermaid of the manatae...
John Thomas Tansey 6/02
poem by John Tansey
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The Road to Roundabout
Some say that Guy of Warwick
The man that killed the Cow,
And brake the mighty Boar alive
Beyond the bridge at Slough;
Went up against a Loathly Worm
That wasted all the Downs,
And so the roads they twist and squirm
(If a may be allowed the term)
From the writhing of the stricken Worm
That died in seven towns.
I see no scientific proof
That this idea is sound,
And I should say they wound about
To find the town of Roundabout,
The merry town of Roundabout,
That makes the world go round.
Some say that Robin Goodfellow,
Whose lantern lights the meads
(To steal a phrase Sir Walter Scott
In heaven no longer needs),
Such dance around the trysting-place
The moonstruck lover leads;
Which superstition I should scout
There is more faith in honest doubt
(As Tennyson has pointed out)
Than in those nasty creeds.
But peace and righteousness (St John)
In Roundabout can kiss,
And since that's all that's found about
The pleasant town of Roundabout,
The roads they simply bound about
To find out where it is.
Some say that when Sir Lancelot
Went forth to find the Grail,
Grey Merlin wrinkled up the roads
For hope that he would fail;
All roads lead back to Lyonesse
And Camelot in the Vale,
I cannot yield assent to this
Extravagant hypothesis,
The plain, shrewd Briton will dismiss
Such rumours (Daily Mail).
But in the streets of Roundabout
Are no such factions found,
Or theories to expound about,
Or roll upon the ground about,
In the happy town of Roundabout,
That makes the world go round.
poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
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New Year
WHITE year, white year,
Muffled soft in snow,
A diamond spray whose gems are gone
Before their grace we know,
A crystal-coated spray whose hours
Melt when looked upon,
Hoarfrost stars and hoarfrost flowers,
White year!
Green year, green year,
Sweet with sun and showers,
A windblown spray whose blossoms bright
Are the seven-colored hours,
A dancing spray whose leaves are days,
A spray whose leaves delight
In azure gleam and silver haze,
Green year!
New Year, new year
From rosy leaf to gold,
A shining spray on the Tree of Time
Where myriad sprays unfold,
A spray so fair that God may see
And gather it, bloom and rime,
To deck the doors of Eternity,
New Year!
poem by Katharine Lee Bates
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Battle Sleep
SOMEWHERE, O sun, some corner there must be
Thou visitest, where down the strand
Quietly, still, the waves go out to sea
From the green fringes of a pastoral land.
Deep in the orchard-bloom the roof-trees stand,
The brown sheep graze along the bay,
And through the apple-boughs above the sand
The bees' hum sounds no fainter than the spray.
There through uncounted hours declines the day
To the low arch of twilight's close,
And, just as night about the moon grows gray,
One sail leans westward to the fading rose.
Giver of dreams, O thou with scatheless wing
Forever moving through the fiery hail,
To flame-seared lids the cooling vision bring,
And let some soul go seaward with that sail!
poem by Edith Wharton
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My Twighlight Time
'Cross the Green of yesteryear, tears~
Comes a gradual ripening of seed~
It cloisters itself, in the valleys deep~
Amongst the fertile sod, it feeds....
Encircled by a range of Mountains~
Frosted themselves, with past snow~
Left o'er icy topping's~
Shining now, in the Green May, We Know!
The snow has been there, a while~
Or at least, since November fourteen~
When the last, of premature snow fell~
Upon the Mountains and Valleys once Green!
November, now remembered, for its most icy womb~
While May, for the ice, melting itself away~
And an opening, to a Civilization Of Beauty~
As, the Seeds Of Goodness, They Bloom In Our Hearts Today!
poem by Theodora Onken
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Nocturnal Nightingale Vavroovahana patra
Fogs swim in the cloudy dark sky;
Moon beam falls on it as a night spy.
The mist dazzles, blooms, beautifies with rosy cosy kiss of beam;
Haze shines as wavy vapour, tranquil transparent serene solitary water of a stream.
Misty waves passes through the air;
Early waves passes through sea's water.
She roams covers the boughs, leaves, buds, foliage;
As if the green waves covers the sea-shine to mileage.
Moon beholds her face on the mirror of nocturn's blossomy dew;
From the millions the allures very few.
Nocturnal Nightingale is an eternal bliss of Nature.
Create a Brook of amusement in the tiny creature.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Romance
MY Love dwelt in a Northern land.
A gray tower in a forest green
Was hers, and far on either hand
The long wash of the waves was seen,
And leagues on leagues of yellow sand,
The woven forest boughs between!
And through the silver Northern night
The sunset slowly died away,
And herds of strange deer, lily-white,
Stole forth among the branches gray;
About the coming of the light,
They fled like ghosts before the day!
I know not if the forest green
Still girdles round that castle gray;
I know not if the boughs between
The white deer vanish ere the day;
Above my Love the grass is green,
My heart is colder than the clay!
poem by Andrew Lang
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Thundering Youth
Thundering Youth/Thundering flower
Like the thundering flower of youth,
and the thundering beauty of a flower
the thundering beauty of youth
and the thundering youth of power
Like the thundering power of truth,
The springtime was a crying flower
drenched in orchid's blood
and revealing all of its power
godblessamen
poem by Samuel Stuart Pennell
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Wild garden
I saw rows of white,
yellow and red lilies bloom,
next to the railway tracts.
Loaded trains rattled past
and that garden,
sprang up by itself between the weeds.
With the early summer rain
rows of blue, white and pink wild flowers
bloomed next to the road that passed nearby.
Some finches nested in the trees
and red, yellow and green birds
flew past the vast garden
of earth that came alive
as far as the eye could see.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Exoskeleton
I attempt to molt
My hard exoskeleton,
Exposing the soft
And raw meat of my insides—
Vulnerable flesh of mine.
I crawl for a time
In the unforgiving air
As it bakes my skin.
The light of the sun presses
Me further into the dirt.
The cool and smooth rocks
Rub against me like a rust,
A corroding floor.
I scrape my body along
As a snail would—so slowly.
The gentle salt spray
Curdles me, a foaming lump
Traveling through sand.
Sodium streams stain my prints,
A fossil made of the past.
My back is spineless,
Formless without its firm shell,
Unfit to support.
I flop like a dry fish would
As if deprived of water.
To protect myself,
I callous stone around me:
A coral shelter.
Safe within the walls I've built,
I remain fully contained.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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Oahu
Here on this island, summer never sleeps.
In the green valleys, smoke in cane-time drifts
With mist—frail tide that laps the chasmed deeps
Between the steep clean hills as the sea-tide
Once washed the silent hidden hollow rifts
And unseen valleys of its unborn bride.
Sea-bride, child of earth’s red molten womb,
Daughter of fire and chaos long since sleeping,
Who were the people that made your green hills bloom?
Wedded to the seas they were, like you;
From the dark sea, while you your watch were keeping,
They came to make their destined rendezvous.
The broad bare feet step forth on virgin sand,
And eyes raise to the green eternal hills:
Gray mist, green hills and fertile red-clay land,
Alone no more. The carefree caroling laughter
Drifts inland, where valley mist distills
The songs that shall be sung forever after.
poem by S.J. Fulton
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