Flower No Flower
Flower no flower
mist no mist
arrives at midnight
and leaves at dawn
arrives like a spring dream – how many times
leaves like a morning cloud – nowhere to find
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The Bloom is not a Bloom
Bloom not bloom
mist not mist
Night half come
heaven bright go
Come like spring dream how long time?
Go like morning cloud not find place The bloom is not a bloom,
The mist not mist.
At midnight she comes,
And goes again at dawn.
She comes like a spring dream -
how long will she stay?
She goes like morning cloud, without a trace.
When September Arrives, Again
September arrives and Autumn begins.
The Summer then bows to Fall.
I use to think,
The leaves would cling on until Spring...
In New England.
September arrives,
And the sky loses brightness.
Winds start to whip...
Leaves off of trees.
I use to wonder,
Why I heard thundering...
As it rained to bring a change to things.
September seems erratic and dramatic.
Shifting as it does...
To prepare all for the Winter.
Children return to school,
As cool winds descend.
September has come back,
Again...
So quickly.
September arrives,
And Autumn begins.
The Summer then bows to Fall.
I use to think,
The leaves would cling on until Spring...
In New England.
I use to think,
The leaves would cling on until Spring...
When September arrived.
And Autumn began,
With winds again.
I use to think,
The leaves would cling on until Spring...
As Autumn began,
With winds again to begin.
When September arrived.
When September...
Arrived!
When September,
Arrives...
Again.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Flower of Leaves
The Flower of Leaves, does not speak, nor sing!
She breathes intensly and plays on sweet strings
The Flower of Leaves, in spring, does not bloom,
She hangs in the heat and weeps low in gloom
The Flower of Leaves, shrouds mis'ry and pain,
Yet exudes in song warm swelling disdain
The Flower of Leaves, shades but one pale green,
Yet blossoms 'neath moonlight in silv'ry gleam
She relieves, and like Great Nature, serene,
In stormless gardens passes through unseen
Sublime as rainfall, sincere as the sea,
O Heaven, such life that blooms before me!
Who only knows that which my heart believes,
In such mystique of The Flower of Leaves!
poem by Iam notThou
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Fresh Flower Blue
It's a fresh flower blue.
I wrap it in a sheet.
I love its scent, it's hues.
It sips the mist, the dew
and leaves an odor, treat
It's a fresh flower blue.
Its pets, the bees and crew
they meet, they greet, they eat.
I love its scent, its hues.
From dawn to dusk they woo
and bask in rain or heat.
It's a fresh flower blue.
There's a flower for you
There's one for me. A treat!
I love its scent, its hues.
The day I say adieu
I send you one so sweet.
It's a fresh flower blue
I love its scent, its hue.
poem by Agatha Lai
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Morning Rain
A slight rain comes, bathed in dawn light.
I hear it among treetop leaves before mist
Arrives. Soon it sprinkles the soil and,
Windblown, follows clouds away. Deepened
Colors grace thatch homes for a moment.
Flocks and herds of things wild glisten
Faintly. Then the scent of musk opens across
Half a mountain -- and lingers on past noon.
Morning Rain
A slight rain comes, bathed in dawn light.
I hear it among treetop leaves before mist
Arrives. Soon it sprinkles the soil and,
Windblown, follows clouds away. Deepened
Colors grace thatch homes for a moment.
Flocks and herds of things wild glisten
Faintly. Then the scent of musk opens across
Half a mountain -- and lingers on past noon.
Your happiness smiles
As the autumn arrives
the trees shed their innocence in to twigs
the leaves break the ice of silence
and fall on the soil so indifferently
that the wind wanders on the sheaves
only to feel the warmth of spring
only to ear the songs of the heavenly bliss
The Satan that always cajoles me
drifts me in to the salmon sea
in to the darkness perched deep within me
disgracefully lies like fallen leaves
thy blessings my lord circumvents
every malefic deeds of the Satan
and the dashing beauty of autumn
wiggles me out from the dirt
of self-pity and unfaithfulness
I draw a curtain of clouds
that blurs the sight of my vision
I snug your hold close to me
and tenderly tighten my noose
and your world seemingly melts
into my endless passion
I plant a sweet sapling of peace
on your kissing lips so wet
the shining dawn blushes
and sneaks into the swanky dusk
the pansies decorate the butterflies
as the autumn arrives filled with promises
Your happiness smiles
as the autumn arrives.
poem by Tarapada Mohapatra
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Nameless, Formless, Shapeless
Nameless, formless, shapeless
A fog in the brain
A mist in the eyes
Yet in the heart what vulcan flames
From the interior magma rise and leap!
So poetry is born, my poetry
So my lines arise
The genealogy of my lines lies in the fog and mist
And in the leap-flames in the heart!
By spurts, and then after the spurt
An interval of dejection
Fog and mist and blank
And then of sudden
The light shines at the end of a tunnel
The heart-pump leaps
Fanned by the bellows of the interior magma
That rises and leaps, that pumps and leaps!
So the flower unwinds itself
From its night-cover:
When the dews and the cold drops
Of the oncoming night its veins will freeze
And fast its leaves and petals curl.
So the flower arises from the seed
So the flower arises on its stem
So the stem arises through the soil
Fog and mist and blank
And a heart that bellows
And fans its pump
When numbed and frozen seems
The blue petal of day at touch of dusk.
poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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Ode to Persephone and Gwydion
Moon rise high above the sky
Light shine
Down
Mist floating in the air
Breeze rustling the leaves
Blowing
Sending them on there way
Moon light eliminate
The hidden
The dark
Show the path
For a journey to start
A whisper
A breeze
Winter’s arising on the dusk
A message of renewal
Death
Natures end to another year
Another time
Slips away
Silent’s stalks the night
Dawn
A new beginning
A past end
Sleep
Reawaken when spring arrives
Life
Coming back to the Earth
A cycle completed
A mystical journey’s end
(2: 23 a.m.11/4/08)
poem by James Strachota
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[Month of] June
Rise up, and do begin the day's adorning;
The Summer dark is but the dawn of day.
The last of sunset fades into the morning,
The morning calls you from the dark away.
The holy mist, the white mist of the morning,
Was wreathing upward on my lonely way.
The way was waiting for your own adorning
That should complete the broad adorned day.
Rise up, and do begin the day's adorning;
The little eastern clouds are dapple grey:
There will be wind among the leaves to-day;
It is the very promise of the morning.
Lux Tua Via Mea: your light's my way -
Then do rise up and make it perfect day.
poem by Hilaire Belloc
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He Arrives
He arrives,
To apply a different tactic.
And at His will.
You may not notice this at first,
By the way it was achieved.
With a quiet precisioned skill!
You have been accustomed,
To seeing life from one dimension.
From a point of view,
With an indoctrination pursued.
And His intention although not mentioned,
Is to shatter all limitations too!
He arrives,
In your heart, soul and mind.
And once your eyes have been opened wide,
You will realized the depth of those lies told to you.
Why and the reason...
They were fed to control everything done you do!
He arrives,
To gift you with the truth.
With an absoluteness you can not refuse.
Since He is the One that comes who can do this.
The only One to get a detoxing done.
The One who introduces the kind of truth that stuns.
He arrives,
And those conditioned,
To hiding behind their lies...
Find themselves without protection,
Into shelters after a run.
Or tongues to twist,
A truth for all to see that exists!
He arrives,
No need to prepare with prayer.
He arrives and when He comes...
You wont see Him,
But you will know He is there.
His eyes are upon you...everywhere!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Poem about Poetry - Song of Tea and Poetry
the refreshing taste of
dawn mist and sunshine,
mountain loam rolled up
in tender brown leaves
and now unveiled through
spring water
they are the simple joy
that raises the morning sun
up into my sky
i dont need that many
readers, just a few who
care to weigh every word
to see how much they are worth
they too are my tea that elevates
the sun up my sky
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Come Back As A Flower
The starngest thought came to me on this morning
As I awake to greet the coming dawn
The sun was hardly peaking through the garden
It felt that with everything I was one
Then I wished that I could come back as a flower
As a flower
As a flower
How I wished that I could come back as a flower
As a flower
To spread the sweetness of love
To spread the sweetness of love
The dew had finished making love to many
A rainbow smelling sweet was in the air
I envied all the silence I saw growing
So unmoved by things outside themselves
Then how I wished that I could come back as a flower
As a flower
As a flower
How I wished that I could come back as a flower
As a flower
To spread the sweetness of love
How I wished that I could come back as a flower
Oh as a flower
As a flower
How I wished that I could come back as a flower
As a flower
As a flower
To spread the sweetness of love
To spread the sweetness of love
(background)
Wished that I could come back as a flower
Flower
Flower
Wished that I could come back as a flower
Flower
Sweetness of love
How I come back as a flower
Flower
Flower
How I come back as a flower
Flower
Sweetness of love
Sweetness of love
song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Leaves Compared with Flowers
A tree's leaves may be ever so good,
So may its bar, so may its wood;
But unless you put the right thing to its root
It never will show much flower or fruit.
But I may be one who does not care
Ever to have tree bloom or bear.
Leaves for smooth and bark for rough,
Leaves and bark may be tree enough.
Some giant trees have bloom so small
They might as well have none at all.
Late in life I have come on fern.
Now lichens are due to have their turn.
I bade men tell me which in brief,
Which is fairer, flower or leaf.
They did not have the wit to say,
Leaves by night and flowers by day.
Leaves and bar, leaves and bark,
To lean against and hear in the dark.
Petals I may have once pursued.
Leaves are all my darker mood.
poem by Robert Frost
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The mist
Here in Springs the mist hangs in the mornings
almost like the Cape’s winter rain
that draws a grey cloak over almost every thing.
At sunrise the street lamps glow amber
and here and there a light is on in a house
and I hear a car, hooting goodbye.
When I walk on the grass
the water rises through my shoes
and leaves tracks along the driveway.
Flowers in colours of ruby red,
shades of pink to purple
and pure white are stringed in between the leaves
and as if every thing is fresh and new
water runs like drops of dew
down from the leaves.
The mist closes every thing off,
surrounds things, into an own world
where visibility is at times
just meters far.
Still the missing
that I have of you
is something with a greater intensity,
no sun early in the morning
burns away,
the being away that divides us.
There’s nothing clearing up this missing
but to talk with you,
better still to have you here.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Life is Like A Flower
Life is like a flower.
It starts out as a seed,
Then a root,
A stem with a leaf,
Leaves and then a beautiful flower.
A baby.
Then learns how 2 talk,
Then the child is a flower.
Life is like a flower,
You are a flower
poem by LeLe Gallon
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Early Works - Simple Beginnings
A fairy with gossamer wings
in a field of multi-colour
flits from flower to flower
daisy and buttercup
petal and leaf.
Sunshine on dew drops
sparkle of jewelled head
morning mist like sleeking ghost
of blanket grey
beginning morning hour.
23 October 1979
poem by David Harris
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The Scarlet Cloak
ONE may go a-many leagues a-questing yon and hither;
One may look on queens and kings, and think the vision bliss;
But he who has the wholesome heart, as lightsome as a feather,
Can find a joy in everything, no matter what it is.
Golden Miles to Burrawang, when the morn was tender! —
How your memory rises up, how it haunts and smiles!
Back again, and back it comes — all the early splendour —
All your length made beautiful, O you Golden Miles!
You that wore the scarlet cloak in the pearly morning,
When the sun came up the East, and through the heavens strode
Like a prince of great account, cloud and mist-wreath scorning —
What was in the heart of you, waiting by the road?
Birds of all the bush around were at their greeting matins,
Some with little twitterings, and some with loud acclaim;
Cloth-of-gold is fine wear, and fine are silks and satins —
Finer was the scarlet cloak that wrapped you like a flame.
You that wore the scarlet cloak in the early morning,
When the leaves were dancing all, and the dewdrops glowed,
Like a flower — a flower of flowers, the dewy way adorning —
Love was in the heart of you, waiting by the road!
poem by Roderic Quinn
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Beneath a morning mist
Beneath a morning mist
~
A morning mist hides
the potential of a beautiful sky
low cloud covers streets and roads
the moist dew of the air
cold against the skin
a freshness to the lungs
welcomed regardless
eyes look into the nothingness
eagerly anticipating the sun
to break through its light
and warm the gardens
meanwhile the mist is silent
quietly haunting all
this is just a day beginning
lets pray its beautiful
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Confusing Flower
When your flower is blooming red
Under the sunshine,
You leave me here to bleed.
When your flower is dying and rotten,
I'm the one you are missing and
Never forgotten.
Let this flower bloom,
So i can move on.
Let this flower die,
So i can smile,
Cause it leaves me confused
And made me cry.
poem by Jann Aquarius
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