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The Tree Of Scarlet Berries

The rain gullies the garden paths
And tinkles on the broad sides of grass blades.
A tree, at the end of my arm, is hazy with mist.
Even so, I can see that it has red berries,
A scarlet fruit,
Filmed over with moisture.
It seems as though the rain,
Dripping from it,
Should be tinged with colour.
I desire the berries,
But, in the mist, I only scratch my hand on the thorns.
Probably, too, they are bitter.

poem by Amy Lowell
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The Barberry-Bush

The bush that has most briers and bitter fruit
Waits till the frost has turned its green leaves red,
Its sweetened berries will thy palate suit,
And thou mayst find e'en there a homely bread;
Upon the hills of Salem scattered wide,
Their yellow blossoms gain the eye in Spring;
And straggling e'en upon the turnpike's side,
Their ripened branches to your hand they bring;
I've plucked them oft in boyhood's early hour,
That then I gave such name, and thought it true;
But now I know that other fruit as sour,
Grows on what now thou callst Me and You;
Yet wilt thou wait the autumn that I see,
Will sweeter taste than these red berries be.

poem by Jones Very
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Appearances

I hated them when I was four years old,
The bright pink berries on the pepper tree.
And now they seem quite beautiful to me.
My tower of dreams when I was four years old
Was such a tree. Its branches hid me well,
Although I so disliked the berries' smell.
I had my dreams when I was four years old . . .
But groundling now, who once could mount in air,
I judge the high-swung bright pink berries, fair.

poem by Lesbia Harford
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Mull Of Kintyre

Mull of kintyre
Oh mist rolling in from the sea,
My desire is always to be here
Oh mull of kintyre
Far have I traveled and much have I seen
Dark distant mountains with valleys of green.
Past painted deserts the sunsets on fire
As he carries me home to the mull of kintyre.
Mull of kintyre
Oh mist rolling in from the sea,
My desire is always to be here
Oh mull of kintyre
Sweep through the heather like deer in the glen
Carry me back to the days I knew then.
Nights when we sang like a heavenly choir
Of the life and the time of the mull of kintyre.
Mull of kintyre
Oh mist rolling in from the sea,
My desire is always to be here
Oh mull of kintyre
Smiles in the sunshine
And tears in the rain
Still take me back to where my memories remain
Flickering embers growing higher and higher
As they carry me back to the mull of kintyre
Mull of kintyre
Oh mist rolling in from the sea,
My desire is always to be here
Oh mull of kintyre
Mull of kintyre
Oh mist rolling in from the sea,
My desire is always to be here
Oh mull of kintyre

song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mist Of Desire

Well, here it comes again
That old feelin' so strong
You came into my life
I won your love for a song
And when I see you in my mind baby
Think of the words you will say
And in a mist of desire
Your love takes me away
Girl you take me away
In a mist of desire
And our love's not an ember baby
It's a raging fire
I need to be with you
What else can I say
In a mist of desire
Your love takes me away
I feel the love when we touch
I can see it in your face
I get lost in the shadows of your warm embrace
And you rush into my arms
My emotions run wild
And we're off to a love world
In a mist of desire
Girl you take me away
In a mist of desire
And our love's not an ember baby
It's a raging fire
I need to be with you
What else can I say
In a mist of desire
Your love takes me away
In a mist of desire
Your love takes me away

song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rain Dances

When rain dances steps of silver
In unseen ballet shoes
Hazy sunshine lights the fuse
Of waiting Autumn hues.
As darkness snares us sooner
The light is strictly lunar
yet I see you burning bright
By window in candlelight.
As Summers' body changes
Morning mist arranges
Orchards to explode
In colour with sweetest scent
Where lonely traveller rode
And rain dances came and went.
Yes, the season still remains
When August hands the reins
To the grower of the grains
To welcome harvest for his pains.
We all reap what was sown
What you give is what you own
As rain dances on alone.

poem by Kevin East
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Autumn Day

The raging colour of this cold Friday
Eats up our patience like a fire,
Consumes our willingness to endure,
Here the crumpled maple, a gold fabric,
The beech by beams empurpled, the holy sycamore,
Berries red-hot, the rose's core--
The sun emboldens to burn in porphyry and amber.

Pick up the remnants of our resignation
Where we left them, and bring our loving passion,
Before the mist from the dark sea at our feet
Where mushrooms cling like limpets in the grass,
Quenching our fierceness, leaves us in a worse case.

poem by Anne Barbara Ridler
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Berries! ! ! ! !

Mulberries

On a visit to granny in the Doon valley
It was March, the old tree full of Mulberries.
Red, purple teasing from far, ran with cane basket.
Picked one, ate some while the birds created a racket.

Strawberries

Strawberri es in white boxes, one atop other
The hawker sat on his knees, said go no further.
I protest too expensive, not for the masses.
Rich eat raw, make a tart or with cream in glasses.

Wild Berries

On way back from school at noon, attack wild berries.
Are for free and so yummy, home a lot we carry.
We laugh and shriek as our skirts get stuck in thorns,
Satiated, come back home, with berries, skirt torn

Written in ancient japanese form Sitigotyo

06.04.09
Mamta Agarwal

poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Holly Bush

The Holly Bush

It was in the depth of winter
When snow lay crisp upon the ground
That I saw the tiny creatures
Which fluttered all around.

I stepped into the garden
To see what the fuss was all about.
There was a fairy trapped in my holly bush
And her friends were trying to pull her out.

But the sharp leaves stabbed at wings
And they tangled up long hair
As the fairies attempted their rescue.
They weren’t getting anywhere.

The fairies saw me on the garden path
And that I was getting near
They hid behind my chimney stack
And cried aloud in fear.

‘Stop being silly now, ’ I told them
As I carefully pulled the fairy free.
‘My name is Buttercup’, she said
As she explained to me.

That she had been stealing the berries
To plant down in the wood
Because there was no holly left.
She was really trying to be good.

‘People like holly for Christmas
But some of them dig up all the trees.
They don’t leave anything for the birds
So, can we have some berries, please.’

I did not want my little friend
To take another fall
So I helped to pick some berries
And said I did not mind at all.

The other fairies came to thank me
Then taking a berry each, off they flew
But Buttercup waited by my side
There was something else she had to do.

She waved her hand up in the air
And her dress changed to green and red
‘This will remind me of your holly bush
And your kindness, ’ the fairy said.

So, if you find a fairy in your garden
With a dress of red and green
Please, allow her to steal some berries
For it is my friend that you have seen.

poem by Irene C S ClarkHogg
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Apple Children

The fruit trees have not been baptised
children`s souls in limbo, in mist

Cold green fruit hangs in the rain,
it is a hole in the late afternoon.

They gave been punished by the battery of
the old priest`s car, hurried steps over wet gravel.

Neither heaven nor hell, the rounds of blossom unbroken,
pointless to walk through, should the rain cease.

poem by Leslie Philibert
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Let It Rain

By bonnie bramlett and eric clapton
The rain is falling through the mist of sorrow that surrounded me.
The sun could never thaw away the the bliss that lays around me.
Let it rain, let it rain,
Let your love rain down on me.
Let it rain, let it rain,
Let it rain, rain, rain.
Her life was like a desert flower burning in the sun.
Until I found the way to love, its harder said than done.
Chorus
Now I know the secret; there is nothing that I lack.
If I give my love to you, youll surely give it back.
Chorus

song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Green and blue

Green and blue
First-named of colours believe these two.
They first of colours by men were seen
This grass colour, tree colour,
Sky colour, sea colour,
Magic-named, mystic-souled, blue and green.
Later came
Small subtle colours like tongues of flame,
Small jewel colours for treasure trove,
Not fruit colour, flower colour,
Cloud colour, shower colour,
But purple, amethyst, violet and mauve.
These remain,
Two broad fair colours for our larger gain
Stretched underfoot or spreading wide on high,
Green beech colour, vine colour,
Gum colour, pine colour,
Blue of the noonday and the moonlit sky.

poem by Lesbia Harford
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Our Marriage Is Our Garden

Our marriage is our garden.
I want our garden to be beautiful.
With lush green grass,
With fragrant and colourful flowers.
A place of solace.
A place of peace.
A place of love.
Our garden must be watered.
Not watered too much.
As that would saturate the ground.
Not watered too little.
As that would leave the plants wilted.
And our grass barren.
But regularly.
So the flowers can stand tall
It must be weeded.
It must be maintained.
It must be loved.
We will plant seeds in our garden.
For new life makes any garden more beautiful and diverse.
We can harvest the fruit trees, but our harvest is limited
If we eat all the fruit too quick,
Then we must wait until the next harvest to eat again.
If we don't pick the fruit when it is right, it will spoil.
Our harvest is for our family.
If I eat all the fruit myself, then they will starve.
If we eat too much we will get sick.
If we eat what we are supposed to, then we will be healthy.
If we do not monitor the fruit,
Then someone might eat more than their share.
If we do not stand guard in our garden,
A thief might come into the garden to steal our fruit.
The fruit for our family.
For their garden must be barren and their crops have spoiled.
Our garden will stand the test of all seasons.
As all gardens do.
Another garden will also experience the same seasons.
Just at different times.
All gardens face rain.
All gardens get sun.
It is the rain that nourishes the garden and helps it's life to grow.
But our garden must be maintained regularly.
Only artificial things require no maintenance.
The artificial has no life.
It is fake, it is plastic.
Our garden needs to be real.
So life may grow and continue to grow.
So one day our children can enjoy a garden of their own.
For them and their children.
May their garden be overflowing with life and love.
And be the most beautiful garden in the world.

poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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Ocean Mist, This One Blurs Me, Misty Eyed On The Beach

well here we are,
in the middle of this ocean
of our respective
existences,

you are on your own
now,
i sail too,
this trip of mine
we catch a
glimpse
of the coming rain, the clouds thickening
over the sea
the horizon blurring
with mists,

like cold smoke
rising from the ice
of our glass filled
with sparkling
wine

we are in this foggy
part of
our thinking
you puzzle me
i like to think some more

who can you be
now infected by
yours truly
writing poetry
as you hide
in the thick ocean mist

blue haze
above salt
reducing
visibility

let nature spray some more
mist
like perfume in her handkerchief

dim like some dead stars
and darken
this universe
obscure the moon
blur my senses
i will try
seeing you
and your shadow
sweet
to my expectancies
of a disciple
draining some thoughts
of your past

let the mist of ignorance
dissolve in sunshine
let the haze of our eyes
clear a little bit
with our touch
to the truth
suspend impression
like liquid in gas

pour more liquor
over cracked ice
so i can have a
good sense of
your blue mist

a vaporizer can do more
adding moisture
to the air we want
to breathe
these harsh times
rain in very fine drops;

drizzle, do not fizzle
diffuse yourself finely
like a jet of water

replacing what humanity
lost

let us moisten with mist
this dryness of our
own distant worlds

ocean mist
i have a name, it is put alive
in the serving of
ice cubes on clear glass
soon hear the voices
of cracks

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Mystical Rain

Beautiful lights that glare before me,
Magic delights you allow me to see.

Mystical Rain in the sky up above,
Mystical Rain throwing stardust of love.

A surreal sight as I stand and adore,
Leading the way - so that men reach the shore.

Mystical Rain in the air all around,
Mystical Rain making love without sound.

Marvelous specks of desire in my view,
Lightly you peck at my face like the dew.

Mystical Rain; blue metallic and green.
Mystical Rain; play your tune quite serene.

A show so alive as you dart through the sky,
Helping planes through the mist, where pilots do fly.

Mystical Rain; shine your light in my path.
Mystical Rain warm my heart; make me laugh.

poem by Angel Crabtree
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The rain,

The rain,
The rain came when there was drought,
The mist came,
The green's increased,
The frog jumped into water's,

The rain fell,
I saw a new harvest,
The cow moos with enough milk,
Then I realised the benefit of living with rain's.

poem by Maxim Muyu
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Rain Love

Rain Rain Love
Rain Rain Love
Rain Rain Love
Rain Rain Love
Threw out my old raincoat
Set sail without a boat
For places somewhere far beyond my dreams
As the sky came pouring down
I lay down on the ground
Like I was dreaming, I let the feeling wash all over me
Rain Love Covered around me
Rain Rain Love Finally found me
This time you're gonna recognise
One drop will open up your eyes
Rain Love
It's the colour of every sky
It's the way to change the tide
When the world is crumbling down on you and me
It's the calm that lifts the storm
It's the promise that keeps you warm
When you don't understand, just touch the guiding hand that comforts me
Rain Love...
Takes this lot to make you realise
No greater love could ever fill the sky
Rain Love....

song performed by by Peter Cetera
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When The Rain Comes

this i can tell to my nephew
that when the rain comes
all we do is listen to the rhythm
of its own sound
there is music to every dripping
rain at the gutters of
our soul
there is this feeling of having
to be with the cry of the
world
to be wet with its tears
to be divine
and pure

when the rain comes
there is the urge to dance under the sky
to be one with the earth
and rain as the link between the earth
and the sky
our limbs as paths
our feet as thirsty roots
our hands stretching
for more
of what is yet to come

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Love Spring

I love spring
Spring is new
It’s new blades of grass
It’s rain on a lass
It’s violets and rain
It’s a wood-scented lane
It’s a new bird song
It’s days growing long
It’s a tree in bud and puddles of mud
It’s birds in a tree and buzz from a bee
It’s kites in the sky
It’s spring. That’s why
I love spring.

poem by Mohammed Rashid
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Grey

Grey road stretched through grey rain.
Grey rain fell though grey mist.
Grey mist enveloped all,
all the eye could see,
all the land,
all the sky
and me.
Grey covered all,
all the way down to the sea.

Glimpsed through grey the swell of the ocean,
riding the waves a wind surfer surfing,
chopping, fighting the crests with swift motion
skirting the spray, sail unfurling.
Stopping, I stared at that sight in the mist,
oh how he came dancing over the sea,
right through the rain a state of sheer bliss,
the wondrous frolic rippling throughout me
making me tingle right down deep inside.
That misty image ripped all grey apart
a glorious vision of freedom untied,
returning tremendous joy to my heart
filling me up, bringing tears to my eyes,
emerging from grey a great love of life.

poem by Diana Rosser
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Tree's Love

Tree's are

Loving

The rain....

Rain all

Most come

Again and again come's

For sea dipression

People are shouted

The rain...

'what is this rain...? ! '

Are some thing....

But...

Green full tree's

Take bath and refresh

Dance with air...

Drops are rain

Little little bit

Nicely kiss too kiss

The tree's body's

And leave's enjoy...!

With rain drops kissess...

Enjoy the tree's too love

Rain is the life of tree's

Tree' s is the life of rain...!

So...

Love the tree's for rain...? ! ? ? ! ! !

poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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