Regret for Peony Flowers
Melancholy steps before red peonies
Evening come only be two branches remain
Bright morning wind start cope blow exhaust
Night regret decline red hold fire look
I'm saddened by the peonies before the steps, so red,
As evening came I found that only two remained.
Once morning's winds have blown, they surely won't survive,
At night I gaze by lamplight, to cherish the fading red.
Related quotes
Regret for Red Peonies
A melancholy walk among red peonies;
When evening comes, only two flowers remain.
They will not survive the morning wind;
I regret their passing by the campfire's light.
Reflections
When I looked into your eyes,
I saw a garden
With peonies, and tinkling pagodas,
And round-arched bridges
Over still lakes.
A woman sat beside the water
In a rain-blue, silken garment.
She reached through the water
To pluck the crimson peonies
Beneath the surface,
But as she grasped the stems,
They jarred and broke into white-green ripples,
And as she drew out her hand,
The water-drops dripping from it
Stained her rain-blue dress like tears.
poem by Amy Lowell
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curtains drawn,
the emperor's love
still lies abed—
on crimson peonies,
the morning sun shines
tanka by Masaoki Shiki
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Fire By Night, Smoke By Day
It's fire by night and smoke by day
As we lay in our beds just thinking away
We wake in the morning to do what they say
It's fire by night and it's smoke by day
The sun starts to rise and the birds start to sing
We worry about what to do, what to wear and what to bring
We make a to-do list filled with everything
Just like the summer, the winter, the fall and the spring
Fire by night, smoke by day
There's nothing left to blow it away
Our day carries on as we're stuck to the clock
A slave to the ways of the tic and the toc
We carry a key but there isn't a lock
Trying to discover what is already lost
Fire by night, smoke by day
There's nothing left to blow it away
We wait for the water to wash it away
It's fire by night, smoke by day
Our thoughts start to wander as night settles in
Engaged in a fight we're not ready to win
As we wait for a new tomorrow to begin
The fire starts burning all over again
Fire by night, smoke by day
There's nothing left to blow it away
We wait for the water to wash it away
It's fire by night, smoke by day
poem by Navillus Tam
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Blue Vase
Sit my love on this cliff
Shall we watch the ships sail
They sail like stars in the vast night
Flux of change like a shimmering sea
We meet in the hungry wind
Fragrance of peonies and bluebills
Now the west wind blows
Will you follow your heart?
Am I a secret constellation?
Are we driftwood going back to sea?
Harmonize with a vase of sorrow
A blue vase filled with lovers never to be
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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What A Crazy World
What a crazy world we live in,
and you can say that again.
For when we open up, ours mouths
sometimes the words we say,
just come out all wrong.
A Scottish friend of my wife
went to see the Doctor
as her pregnancy was over due.
The Doctor told her
he would give it another week
and then he would have to induce her.
When she went, home
and her husband asked how it went.
What she said next must
have come as a big surprise.
The Doctor said if I haven’t had it
in another week,
he was going to seduce me.
Another friend of Vera’s
went to the Doctor one day.
He asked, have you come on your cycle?
She quickly replied,
no my husband brought me in his car.
Vera must be learning from them.
When we were engaged,
my mother gave her
a large bunch of peonies.
She went to work the next day
and told all her friends about the flowers.
She then wondered why
they were curled up with laughter.
She told them about the flowers OK,
but her tongue couldn’t get a grip on peonies
and something else came out instead.
What a crazy world we live in
and I wouldn’t change it in anyway.
21 February 2008
poem by David Harris
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Brave Peonies
First the bravest
purple peonies
through
the pickets peeped
followed by the
more shy
pink petunias peeking.
poem by Saiom Shriver
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Hurricane
Written by dan peek, 1977
Found on harbor.
Sailin down the coast of mexico
With a person I loved since long ago
Into a place nobody wants to go
Into a hurricane
Whoa, hurricane
Somell be taken
Somell remain
Heard people screamin and the sky was torn
I looked around and the faces were so forlorn
No relief, only scorn
In a hurricane
In a hurricane
Somell be taken
Somell remain
Hurricanes just another name
For the torment in a mans soul
His mind is gone
And he starts to lose control
In a hurricane
Oh, the hurricane
Somell be taken
Somell remain
How long will the wind blow?
How long will the wind blow?
Everybody talks; nobody really knows
How long will the wind blow?
How long will the wind blow?
Shoo-ba-ree-ba, shoo-ba-ree-ba
Nobody knows
How long will the wind blow?
How long will the wind blow?
Everybody talks; nobody really knows
How long will the wind blow?
How long will the wind blow?
Shoo-ba-ree-ba, shoo-ba-ree-ba ...
song performed by by America
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Away, Melancholy
Away, melancholy,
Away with it, let it go.
Are not the trees green,
The earth as green?
Does not the wind blow,
Fire leap and the rivers flow?
Away melancholy.
The ant is busy
He carrieth his meat,
All things hurry
To be eaten or eat.
Away, melancholy.
Man, too, hurries,
Eats, couples, buries,
He is an animal also
With a hey ho melancholy,
Away with it, let it go.
Man of all creatures
Is superlative
(Away melancholy)
He of all creatures alone
Raiseth a stone
(Away melancholy)
Into the stone, the god
Pours what he knows of good
Calling, good, God.
Away melancholy, let it go.
Speak not to me of tears,
Tyranny, pox, wars,
Saying, Can God
Stone of man's thoughts, be good?
Say rather it is enough
That the stuffed
Stone of man's good, growing,
By man's called God.
Away, melancholy, let it go.
Man aspires
To good,
To love
Sighs;
Beaten, corrupted, dying
In his own blood lying
Yet heaves up an eye above
Cries, Love, love.
It is his virtue needs explaining,
Not his failing.
Away, melancholy,
Away with it, let it go
poem by Stevie Smith
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Peonies
Pink peonies petals scattered
They Lay forlorn, felled by spring rain
How closely-knit they seemed yesterday!
poem by Deva De Silva
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Goodness Lives
Comfort me like this sweet summer morning
The rust laden sorrow swept under
No lack of praise on my lips
I am full and over flowing
Gentleness has calmed my storms
Wordsworth's garden grows
Fragrance of childhood
Connections with the robins song
Trees sway in waves of the wind
My soul gleans the sun
Faith bright with hope
Joy heals my tired bones
Renewal rejoices
The rain brings a green sea
I know my family smiles at me
I wear my ancestry with pride
Neighbors are quiet flowers
The iris grows
Peonies laugh
Blossoms of ancient love
Apple groves like a choir
The song of birds
Butterflies speak like poets
Surely goodness lives
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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The Ghost
Written by bob welch.
Hold on
Until the ghost appears
That day is gonna last for years
Strange wind, is gonna blow through town
Lightnin is gonna strike us down
Blue hills, are lookin good to me
I go there, when Im fast asleep
Ghost town, and the desert wind
Strange sounds, at the worlds end
And then the winds start to blow
And the fire comes scorching down (yeah)
And then the sky dissapears
In the cloud with an awfull sound (yeah)
And when you cant hold out
Then you run to the underground
Just a blue star
Hanging out in space
Earth town is a lovely place
Strange winds coming from the sky
Lovers gotta say goodbye
And then the winds start to blow
And the fire comes scorching down (yeah)
And then the sky dissapears
In the cloud with an awfull sound (yeah)
And when you cant hold out
Then you run to the underground
Look out before the ghost appears
Look out before the ghost appears
Strange winds
song performed by by Fleetwood Mac
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Night Carrying Hundred Hills (popular poetry)
In the fight of love
Broken all the bangles
In my hands
I remain sleepless
Under the cover
Through out the cold night
I remain excited
Flat motionless
By the weight of the flash back
Your face
Haunting like a ghost
Quake
Felt in the chest
Breaking the ribs
The night is carrying hundred hills.
Emotions
Kicking inside
Strangulating breath
The dyke is broken, flood in the cheeks
Indifference
Brightest burning candle
In the jet black time
The cruellest moment
Silence refuses to listen
Solitude taunts my orphan emotions
Wind stops to blow
The only hey of hope
I hold tight the wet pillow
‘Whom do you love? '
Two angels come and ask
In the grave
The sun brings bright light
In the morning
As I shout your name
poem by Abdul Wahab
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Reading An Anthology Of Chinese Poems Of The Sung Dynasty, I Pause To Admire The Length And Clarity Of Their Titles
It seems these poets have nothing
up their ample sleeves
they turn over so many cards so early,
telling us before the first line
whether it is wet or dry,
night or day, the season the man is standing in,
even how much he has had to drink.
Maybe it is autumn and he is looking at a sparrow.
Maybe it is snowing on a town with a beautiful name.
"Viewing Peonies at the Temple of Good Fortune
on a Cloudy Afternoon" is one of Sun Tung Po's.
"Dipping Water from the River and Simmering Tea"
is another one, or just
"On a Boat, Awake at Night."
And Lu Yu takes the simple rice cake with
"In a Boat on a Summer Evening
I Heard the Cry of a Waterbird.
It Was Very Sad and Seemed To Be Saying
My Woman Is Cruel--Moved, I Wrote This Poem."
There is no iron turnstile to push against here
as with headings like "Vortex on a String,"
"The Horn of Neurosis," or whatever.
No confusingly inscribed welcome mat to puzzle over.
Instead, "I Walk Out on a Summer Morning
to the Sound of Birds and a Waterfall"
is a beaded curtain brushing over my shoulders.
And "Ten Days of Spring Rain Have Kept Me Indoors"
is a servant who shows me into the room
where a poet with a thin beard
is sitting on a mat with a jug of wine
whispering something about clouds and cold wind,
about sickness and the loss of friends.
How easy he has made it for me to enter here,
to sit down in a corner,
cross my legs like his, and listen.
poem by Billy Collins
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Missing My Home
Look at the coloured clouds
Following the steps of the fading sun
Its chilly this evening
With a slow blow of a wind
Wafting my officially tacked shirt
Again see the harried crowds
Taking home what they've earn
Since this day morning
With or without, don't mind
What rests in their small hut
Take a view to the birds
Singing in a melody as one
Flying as men are running
Wishing the day could rewind
To come again to the start
Animals are fetched in herds
With round belies they run
Armed with cud from grazing
With prepared molars to grind
The food far from reach of rat
Playfully singing children raise me moods
Some singing what they've learn
Jumping and shouting
On giant dunes behind
Setting free each beat of a heart
I miss my daughter's words
Her argument with my son
I miss too my wife, darling
A family that God bind
And I know while away they're hurt
Am a man of different worlds
In total melancholy of what I earn
I miss my home when leaving
For this serious kind
Of attendance to a diplomat
Am about to rest my head on woods
Where I do sleep alone
Till that day of earning
When worm alien wind'll blind
Me from seeing lonely desert!
poem by Buyunde Acura Sylivester
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Clear, With Light, Variable Winds
The fountain bent and straightened itself
In the night wind,
Blowing like a flower.
It gleamed and glittered,
A tall white lily,
Under the eye of the golden moon.
From a stone seat,
Beneath a blossoming lime,
The man watched it.
And the spray pattered
On the dim grass at his feet.
The fountain tossed its water,
Up and up, like silver marbles.
Is that an arm he sees?
And for one moment
Does he catch the moving curve
Of a thigh?
The fountain gurgled and splashed,
And the man's face was wet.
Is it singing that he hears?
A song of playing at ball?
The moonlight shines on the straight column of water,
And through it he sees a woman,
Tossing the water-balls.
Her breasts point outwards,
And the nipples are like buds of peonies.
Her flanks ripple as she plays,
And the water is not more undulating
Than the lines of her body.
'Come,' she sings, 'Poet!
Am I not more worth than your day ladies,
Covered with awkward stuffs,
Unreal, unbeautiful?
What do you fear in taking me?
Is not the night for poets?
I am your dream,
Recurrent as water,
Gemmed with the moon!'
She steps to the edge of the pool
And the water runs, rustling, down her sides.
She stretches out her arms,
And the fountain streams behind her
Like an opened veil.
* * * * *
In the morning the gardeners came to their work.
'There is something in the fountain,' said one.
They shuddered as they laid their dead master
On the grass.
'I will close his eyes,' said the head gardener,
'It is uncanny to see a dead man staring at the sun.'
poem by Amy Lowell
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The most beautiful flowers
Honey, do you know which are the most beautiful flowers?
There are not the roses, not the carnations,
not the gladioli or the peonies...
There are not the orchids or the chrysanthemums...
The most beautiful flowers
are the...irises in your eyes!
poem by Viorel Vintila
Submitted by Viorel Vintila
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What Do You Think About Loving
Well what do you think about loving baby
(its alright)
Well what do you think about loving baby
(its alright)
I said what do you think about loving baby
(its alright)
In the morning in the evening yeah and a
In the night
Wo-oh wo-oh
Well its alright in the morning
To start today out right
And its alright in the evening
To have somebody to hold you tight
And its alright in the nighttime
Especially in the night
Baby any time any way
Lovings just alright
Wo-oh wo-oh
Well loving loving loving
Wo-oh wo-oh
Well what do you think about hugging baby
(its alright)
Well what do you think about kissing baby
(its alright)
Just what do you think about loving baby
(its alright)
In the morning in the evening yeah and a
In the night
Wo-oh wo-oh
And its alright in the morning
To start today out right
And its alright in the evening
To have somebody to hold you tight
And its alright in the nighttime
Especially in the night
Baby any time any way
Lovings just alright
Wo-oh wo-oh
Well loving loving loving
Wo-oh alright
Wo-oh alright
Wo-oh alright
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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So Tired
angry cars
exhaust, exhuast
homework, tests
exhaust, exhaust
LIFE, LIFE
exhaust, exhaust
poem by Annie Janine
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Kickin' Fear
Hold up, you movin too slow,
you've got to make the evening blow...
Just kickin' down the fears,
lookin' for fun and feelin' o' clear...
Hello Met(llica) , what's cha knowing,
I've come to teach you growin'
Ain't cha got no rhymes for me,
Just kickin' down the fears,
lookin' for fun and feelin' o' clear...
Hold up, you movin too slow,
you've got to make the evening blow...
Just kickin' down the fears,
lookin' for fun and feelin' o' clear...
I've got no weads to smoke, no grass to keep
I'm dappled and drowsy and ready to sleep
Let the morning time dropp all its worries on me
Hold up, you movin too slow,
you've got to make the evening blow...
Just kickin' down the fears,
lookin' for fun and feelin' o' clear...
poem by Sam Kanabar
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