Daydreaming
The Deciduous maple trees
With their temporary broad leaves
Fell in great numbers during the
Early, darkened, chilly morning.
Their photosynthetic lifetimes
Once green are now shadows of life
As they lay lifeless on the ground.
As I slowly pedal along
The beaten path, a crispy sound
Emerges from beneath the wheels;
And a sweet odoriferous
Scent from their decaying-remains
Beckons forth from my aged mind
Pleasurable abstract musing.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Related quotes
Death beneath my feet
The dead brown maple leaves litter the path
Where I walk. Others of its kind dropping
From their lofty homes, victims of the wrath
Of autumns chilling gales, unrelenting
And tellingly- stark reminder of death-
Companion through life all of us must face.
I tread over brittle corpses beneath
My feet in their final resting place
And I am reminded of my sister
Poor soul! Who died one chilly October.
I remember the maple leaves that stirred
Around my feet that day she was interred.
Lifeless entities swirling, hurling down
Atop her casket deep beneath the ground.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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In The Gravel!
the trees all cut,
lay across the path.
all signs of life have vanished.
an empty hamper
where clothes once lived,
not even the scent of living remains.
lifetimes fall like words
in a vacant room....
swept to the side by indifference.
nothing remains of the fire,
even the ashes are cold....
the air itself gone stagnant!
from a whirlwind to an echo,
a kiss to a door lock turned,
the sound of a stranger walking away.
and all that we are,
and ever have been,
footprints left in the gravel!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Schwinn Twenty-four
(kinky friedman, shawn siegal)
Yeah! yeah! yeah!
Ra-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da
Ra-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da
Ra-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da
Ra-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da
Me and my fellows gonna take a hike
I climbed on in my brand new bike
Its a twenty-four inch with a groovy red seat
All of the fellows think its really neat
As I pedal pedal pedal pedal pedal pedal pedal
Pedal pedal pedal pedal pedal pedal pedal up, pedal down
Pedal all around town on my schwinn twenty-four
Schwinn twenty-four
Bam bam bam bam
Schwinn twenty-four.
Ra-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da
Ra-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da
Ra-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da
Ra-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da.
Late last night was a-cruisin round town,
Skateboard pulled up and I shoved you down
When all the lights turned green people on line
Skateboard giving me a real rough time.
As I pedal pedal pedal pedal pedal pedal pedal
Pedal pedal pedal pedal pedal pedal pedal up, pedal down
Pedal all around town on my schwinn twenty-four,
Schwinn twenty-four,
Bam bam bam bam
Schwinn twenty-four.
Watch me go!
Ra-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da
Ra-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da
Well, I made my thing stop and they started to inspect her
Found I was missing one red reflector
They put it on with go go speed
Now I got all the tail action I need
As I pedal pedal pedal pedal pedal pedal pedal
Pedal pedal pedal pedal pedal pedal pedal up, pedal down
Pedal all around town on my schwinn twenty-four
Schwinn twenty-four
Bam bam bam bam
Schwinn twenty-four
Bought it at the store
Ride it on the shore
Two and two makes four
I love leslie gore
Ra-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da
Ra-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da
Ra-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da
Ra-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da
song performed by by Kinky Friedman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whispering Wind
Standing amid the forest trees
I feel so insignificant.
Small and unimportant can be
Very humbling among the plants
And underbrush that are dwarfed by
The regal, deciduous trees.
Quiet is defined by the sigh
Of the wind breathing through the leaves
And serenity thrives beneath
This lushest leaf-green canopy.
I walk along an ancient path
Once tread by aborigines.
Then, out of the blue, the soft wind
Whispered, ” you're home again my friend.”
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Early Autumn
The calendar foretells summer
but the trees, fauna and I know
that Autumn is now upon us
in spite of the Gregorian.
Deciduous trees are shedding
their kaleidoscopic, colored
dead on the earthen ground below;
and decaying scents fill the air,
nostrils, the mind with reverie
of indelible yesteryears.
Squirrels burying recent finds,
cheerleading and football practice
Unmistakable, autumnal,
recurring signs of its presence.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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A Rose-Bud By My Early Walk
A Rose-Bud By My Early Walk
A rose-bud, by my early walk
Adown a corn-enclosèd bawk,
Sae gently bent its thorny stalk,
All on a dewy morning.
Ere twice the shades o' dawn are fled,
In a' its crimson glory spread,
And drooping rich the dewy head,
It scents the early morning.
Within the bush her covert nest
A little linnet fondly prest;
The dew sat chilly on her breast,
Sae early in the morning.
She soon shall see her tender brood,
The pride, the pleasure o' the wood,
Amang the fresh green leaves bedew'd,
Awauk the early morning.
So thou, dear bird, young Jeany fair,
On trembling string or vocal air,
Shall sweetly pay the tender care
That tents thy early morning!
So thou, sweet rose-bud, young and gay,
Shalt beauteous blaze upon the day,
And bless the parent's evening ray
That watch'd thy early morning!
poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Abstraction Fo The Word Chirp....
i hear birds chirping
early morning
on those trees
clouds arrive, light
spreads,
green becomes too green
in the fields of
life,
i hear birds chirping
sweet to my ear
i give it priority
abstract. delet morning
move out clouds from the picture
double click green fields
focus on life
delet birds
add volume to chirping
it is all chirping now
just chirping
chirping chirping
the essence of chirp.
i have abstracted it from
everything else.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Frost Has Come
A frost has come this night
To visit all the land
A cold death slowly emerges
From the deep darkness
Of a long forgotten dream
The ground beneath the foot
Hardened like a tombs stone
The warm glow of street lights
Catches the shine off the icy path
Unsteady to walk upon
While the open sky above
As vast and beautiful as ever
Leaves the mind feeling small
Oh what words are wanted
To be heard and spoken
To bring company this night
To birth new life once more
In a land cold and dark
poem by Matthew Holloway
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The Bells Of Ostend
No, I never, till life and its shadows shall end,
Can forget the sweet sound of the bells of Ostend!
The day set in darkness, the wind it blew loud,
And rung as it passed through each murmuring shroud.
My forehead was wet with the foam of the spray,
My heart sighed in secret for those far away;
When slowly the morning advanced from the east,
The toil and the noise of the tempest had ceased;
The peal from a land I ne'er saw, seemed to say,
'Let the stranger forget every sorrow to-day!'
Yet the short-lived emotion was mingled with pain,
I thought of those eyes I should ne'er see again;
I thought of the kiss, the last kiss which I gave,
And a tear of regret fell unseen on the wave;
I thought of the schemes fond affection had planned,
Of the trees, of the towers, of my own native land.
But still the sweet sounds, as they swelled to the air,
Seemed tidings of pleasure, though mournful to bear,
And I never, till life and its shadows shall end,
Can forget the sweet sound of the bells of Ostend!
poem by William Lisle Bowles
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A Pleasant Autumn Day
A pleasant Autumn day of wind and sunshine
And yellow leaves depart their trees and fall
To Mother Earth who silently receives them
And wattlebirds on flowering gum trees call.
On this quiet side street of inner suburbia
The leaves are dying on the deciduous tree
But were i a poet I'd put my pen to paper
And write of the great beauty that i see.
For Nature's beauty can be found in strangest places
Far from the countryside it can be seen
Deciduous trees are golden brown in Autumn
And gums and wattles rich and evergreen.
And many urban people too love Mother Nature
And of workings of Nature there is much to know
They love to hear the birds sing in their gardens
And take pride in plants and trees they helped to grow
I respect those who respect Mother Nature
The damage done to her they try to mend
For Nature brings her beauty to all Seasons
And to every Nature lover I'm a friend.
In quiet side street in inner suburbia
Deciduous leaves to Mother Earth drift down
And wattlebirds are calling on the gum trees
And Mother Nature too lives in the town.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Natural Numbers
My numbers never ending
Stretching to infinity
But never ever reaching there
And always further off than me
Are those strange transfinite numbers
Whose names sound like some odd code
Like aleph and omega
And, as Mr Godel showed
We need these abstract artefacts
Even if imaginary
To prove all higher theorems
And ensure consistency
But there are further mysteries
That from my numbers do arise
Like never ending decimals
Irrational numbers in disguise
They too are quite invented
Just convenient in use
When my simple natural numbers
Do not serve to make a proof
Oh the mysteries of numbers!
Oh the madness of all that!
When what started off as counting
Becomes higher abstract maths.
poem by David Keig
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Beauty of Spring
it starts with the grass
slowly, blade by blade
growing, sprouting, covering
while more beauty is made
the green of the grass
then the green of the trees
slowly, but early showing
the small but budding leaves
the early flowers
pouring color and beauty
a still bland land
but now with color to see
the birds coming back
with their squawks and their tweets
the bround growing warm
beneathe my bare feet
the bunnies and the squirrels
the turtles and the snakes
the fish swimming free
in the thawing lakes
the beauty of Spring
with new life all around!
the coming of pure beauty
with the thawing ground
poem by Kellsey Hartmann
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Colors to Notice
While on morning walk today,
Thought emerges to describe the color
Of Mumbai sky, but can’t get the correct word:
It is aluminum-like, light gray,
Same wherever on the entire irregular patch
Of sky in Bandra, I am allowed to see through
Hedged in by trees, buildings and roofs.
As the eyes sweep down, the colors
Around me attract: green, blue,
Black, yellow, red BEST bus, the objects reflecting
There is no end to my counting:
In green alone I can see
Seventeen different shades.
Once I start enjoying the difference
Between one green and another
Luxuriant, shiny or dark,
Light-green, or parrot or bluish green
Or green seen against sunlight from below
Or with sunlight falling on the green leaves, -
In between remembering the sea-green incorruptible
Of Carlyle in his French Revolution
Or Lady Macbeth’s seas before becoming
Incarnadined -
Greens stretch unending in mind, and around,
Till suddenly the purple morning glory in front
Mocks me: while the special dark pink, above
Of bougainvillea blushes silently at stupid man
Who shows off his reading to Nature,
And makes up by waving and dancing gently.
Colors of Life and Nature are around me
Anywhere anytime:
I love them, including
Different black shadows in the dark.
poem by Daniel Trevelyn Joseph
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Autumn Once Again
As the days grow slowly shorter
And summer fades away
I look forward to autumn
Its cool and crispy days
Pumpkins in the patch
Waiting to be cut
Yep, it’s turned to autumn
It has a cooler touch
The chill in the nighttime
Is drying all the leaves
As they fall in the wind
From off the maple trees
It smells so sweet and earthy
So fresh and oh so clean
We bundle up in daytime
For it’s frosty while we dream
And the colors of fall flowers
Just seem to blend right in
With the orange of autumn
A lovely refreshing spin
A very special season
Is just starting to begin
For summer is now over
And it’s autumn once again!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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The Maple Tree
The Maple with its tassell flowers of green
That turns to red, a stag horn shapèd seed
Just spreading out its scallopped leaves is seen,
Of yellowish hue yet beautifully green.
Bark ribb'd like corderoy in seamy screed
That farther up the stem is smoother seen,
Where the white hemlock with white umbel flowers
Up each spread stoven to the branches towers
And mossy round the stoven spread dark green
And blotched leaved orchis and the blue-bell flowers -
Thickly they grow and neath the leaves are seen.
I love to see them gemm'd with morning hours.
I love the lone green places where they be
And the sweet clothing of the Maple tree.
poem by John Clare
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A Bush
A Bush in the middle of a group of tree,
slowly decaying and dieing it shall be.
Turning from green to brown,
getting nothing jsut a frown.
No animals in it nest,
for it is not like the rest.
Everytime it gets a bit more green,
it's a great big scene.
But it always gets browner in the ends,
all alone without real friends.
While all the trees green and thrive,
all the bush does is simply die.
poem by James Pritchard
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Overwelmed
Overwhelmed
Today I saw the world’s biggest butterfly
when it flew overhead the day darkened.
the colour of it was of intense rainbow so
brilliant I helpless fell to the ground.
Slowly I woke up, trees were ashen and
the dell, so green had turned xanthous.
Too much beauty kills lesser loveliness,
It took days to find our natural stability.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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One Day Nearer Spring
The weather cold this morning it is only two degrees
And a thick fog through the woodland, I can hardly see the trees
And the wildborn birds are silent there is scarcely any breeze
It's a day for woolly jumper though not cold enough to freeze.
For Winter in Victoria the weather seems quite dry
And the mornings foggy and quite cold allowing for July
And the fog doesn't lift till mid morning and the sun shines through the gray
And you see the grayness of your breath on a chilly Winter
day.
But only yesterday I saw male blackbird searching for a nesting site
On the ivy along galvanize fence in mid afternoon sunlight
And from there he flew to camellia tree as he pondered on where best
Might be the safest place for him and his mate to build their year's first nest.
The last leaves off of deciduous tree lay scattered on the ground
And in the grayness of the dawn the silence is profound,
The ghost like trees shrouded in gray and the birds refuse to sing
But every Winter day that dawns is one day nearer Spring.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Fingernails
Babies have fingernails
Children have fingernails
Teenagers have fingernails
Adults have fingernails
Senior Citizens have fingernails
Dead people have decaying fingernails
Kittens have claws
Kitties have claws
Felines have claws
Cats have claws
Seniors Catizens have claws
Dead cats have decaying claws
Hotwheels have wheels
Vespas have wheels
Slugbugs have wheels
Hummers have wheels
Oldsmobiles have wheels
Dead car parts have decaying wheels
But most importantly, I have fingernails, a cat, and a car.
poem by Gerald Flippinhanger
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The Perfume Of Early Spring
The wonders of this new year,
I'm just now beginning to sense.
The chilly halcyon days now gone
Took away the weeks of suspense.
The early morning dew fallen fresh
Begets the scent of wet vernal leaves.
In flower beds new blossoms form,
With nectar nose bearly now perceives.
Park timber emits a lingering fragrance
Of scented pines and evergreen,
With other trees yet missing foliage
Giving a woodsy scent for nose to glean.
The grasses damp with spring rain
Emit their pleasing smell for miles.
Blending the air with kindred aromas,
The gift of spring in its vernal styles.
poem by Albert Price
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