En.Citatepedia^®.ro

A Spring Morning

The sky is the shade of cornflower blue;
The clouds in the sky, are extremely few.
Caught by the sunshine, everything glows.
A fresh, cooling breeze, now gently blows.

With bowed heads, daffodils seem a bit shy;
I gaze, admiringly, at them, as I pass on by.
Their deep, rich purple, the crocuses show;
A lovely contrast, to the daffodils' yellow.

Green buds are seen on branches, once bare;
Stunning outfits, they will, very soon, wear.
Blossom on a tree, is as white as fresh snow;
Decorating its branches, both high and low.

Birds sweetly sing, high up in the tall trees.
I can hear the familiar buzz of the busy bees.
The butterflies chase each other, to and fro.
Nearby, I hear the call of the noisy crows.

Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, I happily roam;
For the first time, this year, my coat is at home.
In the cold weather, I rush everywhere so fast;
In the sunshine, I dawdle, so my walk will last.

Upon my skin, I can feel the warm sunshine;
The sun brings me cheer, and I'm feeling fine.
It really is a most pleasant start to the day,
And, fingers crossed, it will stay that way!

poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Feel Lucky To Live In This Country

We did have some showers in the morning though it was quite welcome the rain
And the day it has turned out quite windy and the sun is out shining again
For mid Fall it is such good weather the butterflies dance in the breeze
And the temperatures so very pleasant a tad over twenty degrees.

I have every cause to feel happy on this rather beautiful day
The butcherbird the familiar fellow in his cloak of dark brown and gray
His bubbling notes he is piping on high branch of the blackwood tree
Though nesting Season for him over and no need to defend territory.

I feel lucky to live in this Country in this warm and balmy Land of the South
When darkness it cloaks the woodland one hear the soft call of the frogmouth
A beautiful place for to live in where the coldest of weather is not cold
But oh how the time ticks on quickly and even the young are growing old.

For April it is splendid weather the wind gently soughing in the trees
And butterflies dance in the sunshine in this Land of the Southern seas
I feel lucky to live in this Country this weather for all to enjoy
The magpie he pipes in the sunshine and so very happy am I.

poem by Francis Duggan
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The Day For November Quite Warm

The day for November quite warm with only the faintest sign of breeze
And starlings from the trees to the garden railings flying and flying back again to the trees
The weather temperature in the high twenties from 27 to 29 degrees
And in the shade of the gum in the paddock the cow sits and chews her cud at ease.

White butterflies out in the sunshine they do not like the wind and the rain
Why they like the calm sunny weather do not ask me since I cannot explain
Anything of the workings of Nature of Nature's ways so little I know
Of Nature's ways I know as much now as I did five decades ago.

The poets love Spring for Nature's greenery her beauty them always inspire
In their words they always laud the Earth Mother of singing her praises they never do tire
And the artists try to capture some of nature's beauty on their canvas the flora and fauna of the woods and the hills and sea shore
I know of so many fine artists in fact there has never been more.

The day for November quite warm even warm for the time of year
And on the wattle tree in the garden the song of the blackbird I hear
'Tis said when birds sing in warm sunshine that rain cannot be far away
The radio weather forecaster says the weather is changing with thunder showers later today.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Father Winter

Welcome back home Father Winter
we have waited all year for you.
Your lovely trees, so tall
their branches now bare
they stand there waving you
back home you brought with you
your winter jewels, now they hang
on those naked branches.

The summer flowers, have
now laid down for a long winters
nap their waiting for you to cover
them with your winter blanket.

Your blanket will keep them
warm till spring then they'll
all pop up and sing.
Now all the small animals have
laid their heads down too sweet
dreams every thing will awake to
fresh new season.

You have dressed everything for
Christmas. your ice snow flakes
have landed on our pond it looks
looks like big white frosted glass
mirror it also created beautiful
glass like ornaments that
hang on the ever green trees.

Your cold fluffy snow lays upon
their branches it drapes like a
pearl necklace among their branches
they all look so lovely.

The winter clouds that you have blown
in float beneath the stars so bright
the full moon shines down upon the
hill tops all covered in your beauty.

The fresh snow glistens like stars
and silver gliter it looks like
millions of diamondseen have been
scattered on the beaten paths.
Your winter air smell so crisp
and cold as you speak, you can
see your breath in \the cold air
the only lights are from the new
full winter moon.

As you can see Father Winter has
blown, in with such briskness.
Every where you now look,
now looks bright and fresh.

Little children have started the
count down.To that special
night which is not to far off in sight.

And like ''SANTA'
You'll be gone, in the wink
of an eye.

We thank you for all the beauty
that you have given us, you'll
only last a while upon you I'll
walk a brisk mile.

We'll love you as long as you'll
last..Upon your snow we'll
dance and play.

We'll do this each cold day..
Until you melt away.
and then we'll say a sad good-bye.,

GAYLE ANNE GOFF
DECEMBER
2008

poem by Gayle Anne Goff
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On The Fourth Day Of March

The pleasant aroma of the peppercorn trees
That come wafting to me in the evening breeze
And on the nearby pond the shy moorhen call
On the fourth day of March and the southern Fall.

A white backed magpie pipes on a nearby gum tree
A bird one so often does hear and does see
And though early Autumn the deciduous trees in the park of the town
Their leaves still quite green and not showing any brown.

The weather quite cool compared to yesterday
But the temperatures perfect for me anyway
Today a cool high of twenty two degrees
From the recent warm weather we do need some ease.

The brown and bare paddocks could do with some rain
And the farmers are feeling the financial strain
Of months of dry weather they feel burdened by care
And their financial cross for them heavy to bear.

There is not one rain cloud in the clear blue sky
And the thistledown flying in the breeze through the sky
And the dark moorhen call in the brown pond nearby
And the paddocks are looking so bare, brown and dry.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Victoria's Weather

On fifth day of September five days into the Spring
The currawongs the birds of rain on the high gum trees sing
And weather back to Winter change and chill the breezes blow
And it's been hailing all the day and cold enough to snow.

In latter days of Winter the weather nice and fine
And morning paddocks gray with frost that melted in sunshine
And temperatures rose through the day to near twenty degrees
And warmth in the sunshine and warmth in the breeze.

Victoria's weather changes quick it's always been that way
And a heavy shower of cold Spring hail has left the garden gray
A high of five a low of two that's what the forecast say
In the only place that you will get four Seasons in one day.

The currawongs the birds of rain sing on the tall gum trees
On this the coldest day of Spring it's only five degrees
And through the wood on Selby hill the chilly breezes blow
And it's been hailing all the day and cold enough to snow.

poem by Francis Duggan
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On The Second Week Of January

On the second week of January I hear the shrike thrush sing
His flute like notes so pleasant to them have a familiar ring
And Spring is but a memory and Summer near her prime
And that birds sing out of Season happens all of the time.

The piping of the white backed magpie his is a familiar song
By their songs Nature's feathered minstrels one cannot get them wrong
A pleasant Summer's morning 'twill make a pleasant day
And the paddocks of Wonthaggi scent sweetly of baled hay.

In a clearing I am standing surrounded by scrub trees
In such places the Aboriginal dancers had their Corroborees
They danced on Summer evenings before the sun went down
Long before there was a Gippsland or a Wonthaggi Town.

A morning on the second week of January with a warm summery breeze
And a forecast high for the afternoon of 25 degrees
One might say perfect weather for the time of year
North in New South Wales and Queensland 'tis warmer by far than here.

On the second week of January the weather warm and dry
And a goldfinch he is singing on a wattle tree nearby
And brown butterflies are dancing in the sunny morning sky
And Mother Nature's natural beauty is for all to enjoy.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Spring: New Beginnings

I have always loved the heralding of spring,
When the spell of youth is cast upon everything.
Gardens everywhere awaken from their sleep,
As the sun, from behind the clouds, does peep.

Leafy green shoots begin to sprout.
Flowers begin to pop their heads out.
Yellow daffodils stand proud and tall,
But, sadly, are gone in no time at all.

The sweet smell of blossom on the trees,
Wafts down from above on the gentle breeze.
Buttercups and daises are abundant everywhere
And the buzz of flying insects fills the warm air.

The season heralds a bright new dawn.
Baby birds and animals are being born.
The days are beginning to get progressively longer
And the sun's rays are beginning to shine stronger.

There's a sense of hope at this time of year,
Bringing with it, some much needed cheer.
It's heartening to know that summer is around the corner,
When the weather will grow increasingly warmer.

poem by Angela Wybrow
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I Feel That I am Free

To me the sky looks bluer,
And the green grass greener still,
And earth's flowers seem more lovely
As they bloom on heath and hill.
There's a beauty breathing round me
Like a newborn Eden now,
And forgotten are the furrows
Grief has graven on my brow.
There is gladness in the sunshine,
As its gold light gilds the trees,
And I hear a voice of music
Singing to me in the breeze.
There is in my heart a lightness
That seemeth not of me,
For today I've burst from bondage,
And I feel that I am free.

Free in the golden sunshine,
Free in the fresh pure air,
Where the flowers of the forest
In their wild homes flourish fair.
Free to thought to give expression,
To sing, to dance, and show
That the stern world has not crushed me
With its weary weight of woe.
Are the years of care and sorrow
But a dark dream of the past,
Or this new life but a vision
That is all too bright to last?
How exaltingly my spirit
Flashes forth its newborn glee,
As amid rejoicing nature
I can feel that I am free.

I have neither friend nor loved one
To welcome me, nor home;
And lonely through the wide world
As a stranger I must roam;
I know not where tomorrow
To procure my daily bread,
And tonight the waving branches
Must canopy my head.
But if I had a palace,
If of friends a gladsome throng,
If some darling one were near me
To cheer with love and song,
If I'd riches which were boundless,
No more joyous could I be
Than what I am, exulting
In the thought that I am free.

Free in the bright glad sunshine,
Free in the fresh pure air,
My heart with gladness throbbing,
And on my brow no care.
There's the blue sky all above me -
Not a prison roof between -
And at my feet the flowers
Nestle in the verdure green.

Hark! I hear the breezes singing -
'Lift thy heart to God on high,
Who hath brought theee back from sorrow
To this world of hope and joy.'
And the little nodding flowers
In a chorus sing to me -
'If God from sin shall free thee,
Then thou shalt indeed be free!'

poem by Owen Suffolk
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A Windy Day In Early September

The wind keeps the air that bit cooler today it is sixteen degrees
And beautiful pink fluffy blossoms adorn the flowering gum trees
And wattlebirds sing in the sunshine though not very pleasant their song
Their hoarse call is very distinctive once heard you cannot get it wrong.

A windy day in early September in changeable weather of Spring
The white backed magpie the marvellous songster in his territory he sing
At breeding time he is aggressive his own kind not even his friend
And he's been known to attack humans with his wife and his young to defend.

A windy day in early september dark rain clouds tell rain is quite near
And the sun that had briefly been hiding between a break in the clouds re-appear
In one day you can get four Seasons 'tis like that at this time of year
But in early days of September you know that warm weather will shortly be here.

A windy day in early September and rain is beginning to fall
And on the flowering gums and wattles the wattlebirds chatter and call
But gone is the coldness of Winter and fruit trees wear pinkish white flowers
And everywhere looks fresh and greener in the sunshine after the showers.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Cover Me

Let your arm’s cover me

And protect me

From the high part of the
Day

Your branches leafless in
In the winter''s sun

But, can I rest beneath
Your branches of skeleton
Frame.

Through the gusty wind
That blow so strong

Winter cold wind

Even thou the sunshine is
High

The color is gray

The moon is rising

With a icy smile

The hostile wind is

Blowing with vengeance

Looking for retribution
Will you

Cover me with your skeleton
Fingers

Hide me from that angry wind

Clashing with that frosty moon

Cold, freezing cold

I’ll make me a home within

The layer of your wood to keep
Me warm

Until spring blossom''s out and
All
Love bloom''s in may

To
Blossom in June and end in
July

Even the tree’s sprout’s out
Again to become anew

With bloom''s ablaze in the spring
A coming

Blossom with a beauty of a deep
Rich green hue

Cover me within your walls so my off
Springs may grow

Warm and cuddley my off spring''s
Grow for our new generation

Cover me from the icy angry wind
Blowing on me

On and around me

I don’t wanna freeze and snap, pop
And crack

I wanna to be cover and warm where
My wings will grow..

poem by Carolyn Sears
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Nature' S Kindergarten

Deep, blue sky,
Overcast
With clouds white.
Gentle breeze
Kissing the branches, trees, leaves
And the nascent buds in between
Caressing
The concrete crust.

Stronger it blows
Trees take to the floor
Branches conduct the choir
White to grey
Synergy high
Bang the floor
Dance
To tunes of thunder
Lightening strikes
In the milieu
Pours the virile
The entire show
In silence bids bye.

poem by Sanjay Mehta
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Somewhere Beyond A Old Gold Mine

Somewhere beyond a old gold mine,
probably planted there by a bird,
I saw you reaching high against the blue sky,
with blossoms folding open in purity,
bursting open snow white,
at a rusted wheel that gnashed as it turned;
as a almond tree on top of a yellow-brown mine dump
while I was walking around curious.
Your branches were like angelic wings, white and pure,
was circled by the bright sunshine,
that splashed down your wide open branches,
where like fingers they were reaching for heaven,
your glory went to the depths of my soul
where very high you stood above everything.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Good Day Sunshine

Good Day Sunshine
LennonMcCartney
Good day sunshine
Good day sunshine
Good day sunshine
I need to laugh, and when the sun is out
I've got something I an laugh about
I feel good, in a special way
I'm in love and it's a sunny day
Good day sunshine
Good day sunshine
Good day sunshine
We take a walk, the sun is shining down
Burns my feet as they touch the ground
Good day sunshine
Good day sunshine
Good day sunshine
Then we lie beneath a shady tree
I love her and she's loving me
She feels good, she know she's looking fine
I'm so proud to know that she is mine
Good day sunshine
Good day sunshine
Good day sunshine
Good day sunshine
Good day sunshine
Good day sunshine
Good day sunshine
Good day sunshine

song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Megan’s Tree

The wind howled waking the girl from her nights sleep
it shouted for her to go outside into the forest deep.
Search out the widest tallest oak known as Megan’s Tree
and take a step inside to see what no one else can see.

Tonight Megan’s Tree has a portal that leads to Patinsa Scart
a place where there is no night, so day has no end or start.
Where humans who are half horse walk and gallop around,
and the other sorts of humans are very rarely found.

White horses have wings of feathers and fly high in the sky,
and don’t give answers to questions, so don’t ask them why.
They give rides to chairs and tables that do not like to walk,
but some walk very well, and some like to walk and talk.

The chattering birds talk all day to anyone who’s willing to hear,
but what they say is only gossip, so there’s little truth told here.
Dragon flies and honey bees fly side by side with the hawk
while geese and ducks splash and swim, argue and squawk.

Snowdrops, daffodils and bluebells grow all year upside down
and the lush meadows of grass are shades of red and brown.
When it rains in Patinsa Scart it fills the red earthenware pots
with burping toads, talking frogs and goldfish with blue spots.

Meowing cats with two heads chase field mice with three
and when they are caught, they simply set them free.
Troublesome dogs that used to bark don’t do so any more,
instead they write poetry, play music, paint and draw.

Snakes sing together as they stand tall and sway in the breeze
whilst squirrels dance in the grass watching rabbits in the trees.
The wind blows and whispers ‘Megan’s portal closes at 3 a.m.,
so if you want to go home, go now and don’t come back again.

poem by Orlando Belo
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So Good To Be Alive

A thing of beauty for all to behold
The capeweed in their lovely flowers of gold
And yellow blossoms covering the broom
It is a day of sunshine and of bloom,
Nesting birds chirp and sing on bush and tree
In the park of the old town by the sea
The chorus of the sweet voice of the Spring
And Nature's beauty an amazing thing
As beautiful as she has ever been
Mother Nature she looks stunning in her green
A high today of 22 degrees
And warmth in the sunshine and the breeze
Near prime of Spring and Summer on the way
And so good to be alive on such a day.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Spring Sunshine

After all the chills and winter blues,
The staying warm and staying in,
Meetings indoors for outside is cold,
Then comes the spring sunshine,

The sun breaks in like a door open wide,
With the burst of sunlight,
That lasting and warm,
Bringing smiles back on peoples faces,

While in the chilling season it brings,
Us all to hibernate and stay in,
Not getting out much as weather is cold,
Until the spring sunshine brings us back outdoors,

It is the time for new growth,
It is the time for new beginnings,
It is the time for buds to bloom,
It is the time for nature to sound its sounds of nature again,

For all the while when we shelter from the chills,
Winter is chilling,
And springs getting ready,
For all the new beginnings,
Brought forth from the old,
Of last seasons blossoms,
Spring will bring new growth from its roots,
And bloom again with spring sunshine rays,

Spring will start again,
And a new year to begin it with,
That starts with first,
The spring sunshine,
Of first days of spring,
That brings the smile back,
To all our faces,
With warm sun rays,
Of spring sunshine.

poem by Ellen Ni Bheachain
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You're My Sunshine

Sunshine, you're my sunshine
and without you nothing's right.
You warm me like the sunshine
when I see you in my sight.
There's a special glow in my heart
when I think of you.
If you're gone for even one day
I don't know what to do.
Oh I try you know
but whenever you go
the sunshine's just not there.
Oh it's in the sky
and I don't know why
I can't feel it anywhere.

Sunshine, you're my sunshine
and without you I am cold.
You warm me like the sunshine
and shine for me like gold.
Sunshine, you're my sunshine
and without you nothing's right.
So please don't ever leave me.
I need you in my sight.

poem by Edwina Reizer
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Ending [Final]

The memories invade my brain
As crows in poplars build their nest,
While clouds go by and come again,
Like smoke, above the lake and plain,
And never rest.

It's gone the autumn with its shine
Of faded green an vivid gold,
With purple grapes, which look so fine,
And now the park, my soul divine,
Are bare and cold.

The frozen lake will be resigned
When the last leaf falls to the ground
And wind through branches gently blows,
So that you know you left behind
A field of snow, which makes no sound,
And wailing crows.

poem by Al. O. Teodoreanu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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Good Day Sunshine

Good day sunshine, good day sunshine, good day sunshine
I need to laugh and when the sun is out
I've got something i can laugh about
I feel good in a special way
I'm in love and it's a sunny day
Good day sunshine, good day sunshine, good day sunshine
We take a walk, the sun is shining down
Burns my feet as they touch the ground
Good day sunshine, good day sunshine, good day sunshine
Then we'd lie beneath the shady tree
I love her and she's loving me
She feels good, she knows she's looking fine
I'm so proud to know that she is mine.
Good day sunshine, good day sunshine, good day sunshine

song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Warm August Day In Old Duhallow

A warm August day in old Duhallow far north of here and miles away
And swallows high o'er sunlit meadows scenting sweetly of mown hay
And songbirds silent on the hedgerows in Summer you seldom hear them sing
they always pipe their finest in the prime months of the Spring.

A warm day in August in the fields of Knocknagree
And old gray faced rook is cawing on high branch of elm tree
And the magpie he is chattering as into the grove he fly
From once seen and heard he's one that's not hard to identify.

A warm day by Clara mountain by the old Town of Millstreet
And the skylark is not singing o'er the bracken in the heat
In the warm days of late Summer he doesn't feel the urge to fly
High above the sunlit mountain for to carol in the sky.

A warm day in August and the drains of water dry
And the old man says often in August I've seen water flowing bank high
And the long range weather forecast is the weather will be fine
And that at least another fortnight of warm days and sunshine.

A warm August day in Duhallow and the farmer in short sleeves
And the temperatures quite pleasant around 25 degrees
Still it can't be very long now till the cool winds of change blow
And the Paps and Caherbarnagh will be in their hats of snow.

poem by Francis Duggan
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