En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Call

Come calf now to mother,
Come lamb that I choose,
Come cats, one and t' other,
With snowy-white shoes,
Come gosling all yellow,
Come forth with your fellow,
Come chickens so small,
Scarce walking at all,
Come doves, that are mine now,
With feathers so fine now!
The grass is bedewed,
The sunlight renewed,
It's early, early, summer's advancing
But autumn soon comes a-dancing!

poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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The Lime Tree

That lime tree on the distant rising ground
(If it was a lime tree) showed her yellow leaves
Above the renewed green of wet August grass--
First Autumn yellow that on first Autumn eves
Too soon was found.

Comfortless lime tree! Scarce an aspen leaf
Like a green butterfly flitted to the ground;
There was no sign of Autumn in the grass.
Even the long garden beds their beauty brief--
Their mignonette,

Nasturtium and sweet-william and red stocks,
And clover crouching in the border grass,
And blood-like fuschia, eve's primrose and white phlox
And honeysuckle--waved all their smell and hue
Morn and eve anew.

But that far lime tree yellowing by the oak,
Warning oak, elm and poplar and each fresh tree
Shaking in the south wind delightedly,
And clover in the closeness of the grass,
Warns also me.

And now when all the trees are standing still
Beneath the purple and white of the west sky,
And time is standing still--as stand it will--
That early yellowing lime with palsied fingers
Cannot be still.

poem by John Freeman
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Autobiography

My father made the walls resound,
He wore his collar the wrong way round.

When I was five the black dreamscame;
Nothing after was quite the same.

When I woke they did not care;
Nobody, nobody was there.

In my childhood trees were green
And there was plenty to be seen.

When my silent terror cried,
Nobody, nobody replied.

I got up; the chilly sun
Saw me walk away alone.

My mother wore a yellow dress;
Gentle, gently, gentleness.

The dark was talking to the dead;
The lamp was dark beside my bed.

Come back early or never come.
Come back early or never come.
Come back early or never come.
Come back early or never come.
Come back early or never come.
Come back early or never come.
Come back early or never come.
Come back early or never come.

poem by Louis Macneice
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Interior

THE little moths are creeping
Across the cottage pane;
On the floor the chickens gather,
And they make talk and complain.

And she sits by the fire
Who has reared so many men;
Her voice is low like the chickens'
With the things she says again:

'The sons that come back do be restless,
They search for the thing to say;
Then they take thought like the swallows,
And the morrow brings them away.

In the old, old days upon Innish,
The fields were lucky and bright,
And if you lay down you'd be covered
By the grass of one soft night.

And doves flew with every burial
That went to Innishore
Two white doves with the coffened,
But the doves fly no more.'

She speaks and the chickens gather,
And they make talk and complain,
While the little moths are creeping
Across the cottage pane.

poem by Padraic Colum
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John, I'm Only Dancing

(dancing) i'm having so much love
(dancing) too bad my back had gone
(dancing) boogie down with daddy now
I'd give my house in the country
If you'd slept it's so funky
(music) i'm dancing in the street
(ooh music) i've torn the shoes from my feet
(romancing) it's got me dirty and sweet
It's got you reeling and rocking
Won't you let the slender thing in
(rolling) i think it's all i can do
(rolling) just got me feeling you too
(rolling) get a little take a little
Get a little back
Jumping john the great goose is gone
Got a lion in my hand
Got a charlie on my back
(john) i'm only dancing
(she turns me on) i'm only dancing
(she turns me on) oh get you with me
(don't get me wrong) ah ha ha ha ha
(i'm only dancing, oh ho hooo)
(i'm only dancing, oh ho hooo)
(dancing) have you heard the news
(dancing) president has got the blues
(dancing) i tell you comfortably
If he gives it to you
He'd better take it from me
(said sir) i pick up the bones
(said sir) leave the numbers alone
(said sir) get off your telephone
Look the people in the eye
Tell them my oh my
Let your backbone slide
Buddy whistle and cry
(john)
(she turns me on) la la la la
(don't get me wrong) hmm hm hm
(i'm only dancing, oh hooo)
(john) i'm only dancing
(she turns me on) ah ha ha i'm only dancing
(she turns me on) i lost my feel
(don't get me wrong) i'm off on my way
(i'm only dancing, oh hooo) please dance with me
(i'm only dancing) please dance with me
(i'm only dancing, oh hooo)
(dancing, dancing, dancing, woh woh woh)
(dancing, dancing, dancing, woh woh woh)
(dancing, dancing, dancing, woh woh woh)
(dancing) i'm only (dancing) i'm only (dancing) i'm only (woh woh woh)
(dancing) i'm only (dancing) i'm only (dancing) i'm only (woh woh woh)
Can see no care
Lost my fear
Traped charlie dance on
(woh woh woh)
(woh woh woh)
He, he, he, he, he, he, he, cos
(woh woh woh)
Got white light
Got black light
Got white light
Lay you dance on
(woh woh woh)
I'm only, i'm only, i'm only
(woh woh woh)
I got, i got
(woh woh woh)
(woh woh woh)
(dancing) he
(dancing) he
(dancing) he
(woh woh woh) lay you dance on
(dancing) lay you dance on
(dancing) lay you dance on, hey
(woh woh woh)
(dancing)
(dancing)
(dancing)
(woh woh woh) gotta give me know
(dancing) gotta give me know
(dancing) gotta give me know
(dancing)
(woh woh woh)
(dancing) he he
(dancing) he he
(dancing)
(woh woh woh)
Lockit fine
Makin' it mine
Lockit fine
Makin' it mine
Lockit fine
Making it
(i'm only dancing mm mm)
(i'm only dancing, dancing, i'm only dancing, mm mm)
(i'm only dancing, dancing, i'm only dancing, mm mm)
(i'm only dancing, dancing, i'm only dancing, mm mm)
(i'm only dancing hey ya, dancing, hey, i'm dancing, mm mm)
Yes i am
(i'm only dancing, hey i'm dancing, hey dancing, mm mm)
(oh, i'm only dancing, oh, i'm only dancing, i'm only dancing mm mm)
Oh my baby

song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Early Evening When Dusk Was Falling

Early evening when dusk was falling,
my mother turned with fine fingers
through the pages of the black book
and she looked pretty and womanly
while she took our cares to the almighty Lord

and when I looked though closed eyes
it was as if a big shadow
was making the night still darker
where it was falling over the house and the whole yard,
where God was keeping watch in the night.

Early morning when it was still twilight,
I was already up, was trying to find my way
through the field near to the hillock,
to follow the white cat
to where she was hiding her new children

but could then find no sign
of God’s presence
with only the weavers, sparrows and doves
that were singing their songs of joy,
before the sun white-hot blinded me.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Winters advance...

In the dark of night the wind do'th blow,
Through the hills and the drifting snow.
The branches of an oak tree sigh and creek,
Raised above that silent snowy sheet.

Winter snowflakes soon come dancing,
As the winter storm it is advancing.
At first a few, but then so many,
When at first there were not any.

Engulfing a wintery slumbering earth,
In a snowy cotton across her girth.
Fashioning a crystal white snowy gown,
Woven from the whitest down.

Now covered in her pure white sheet,
Our mother earth has gone to sleep.
Her yearly rest forever taken,
When spring time comes she shall awaken...

Spread the love... The peace will follow...

poem by Cosmic Dreamer
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Seasons

I

As if summer will never end
irises are everywhere in the garden
with opening flower after flower
in light yellow, deep purple and rust-brown.

The bright hot sun hangs day after day
in a cobalt blue sky and even carnations, geraniums
and flame lilies are showing their beauty,
are still holding onto summer.

Doves are still cooing in the oak tree,
their are finches and sparrows cavorting up and down
and it’s as if nature is thwarting autumn
while dew is still shining on the leaves in the mornings

until later the sky becomes dull blue
while the sun is getting much more faint.

II

Slowly the leaves are falling
descending in different colours,
in one’s and two’s and later in a bigger number
tree-trunks become dark brown, red and some pallid

until every tree but for those that are evergreen stand skeleton,
the birds that remain sit next to each other shivering,
wishing for the winter to past
having difficulty to find seeds and other food

and the cold winter wind blows through everything,
filling the air with whirling dust clouds
with stripped branches flinging up and down
and everywhere leaves and branches lie in a jumble

until the wind dies down and the morning fog hangs like vapour,
at times only at noon is dispersed by the sun.

III

Days are cold and grey while the sun hides,
with a owl hunting during the day
searching for hungry mice sneaking around in the yellow grass
and all other signs of animal life is missing

but for doves sitting here and there
on telephone wires,
in disconsolation staring into the distance
and early mornings the grass is covered with white ripe

and it is as if every flower succumbs,
is shrinking crumpled and are folding close
until the first spring rain comes suddenly,
with sprouts and buds appearing and new flowers folding open

when fruit trees are covered with white, pink and yellow blossoms
and the sudden beauty takes your breath away.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Juno Gave the Summer

A sun for hearts – tempered rhythm in her flares;
The naked tan – bikini line a cry for stares;
Gregarious green, beguiled by colours en rapport –
The park’s alive! So what’s to hanker after more?

Children scream while parents dream their fantasies,
Igniting under brilliance –
They think they share resilience to the
Ultraviolet hues;
To lie displayed au naturel
Is what they’d rather choose!

And Helios peers at lovers in their
Heady worlds: vibrant leas to
Roam in hand; calming seas –
Satin sand insensible as
Water runs her ripples cross the
Shore – so like the park, it really
Cries for very little more!

In the garden, roses clamber for attention –
Pouting blooms, wafting scent –
Our floral monarch June’s event!
And fingers green receive the praise
From toiling hard for coloured blaze.

Compelled, I walk the countenance of sunny June
As Mother Nature danced amok in her saloon
Of roaring life, that came of youth in early spring
And nurtured in maternal warmth beneath her wing.

Eyes bedewed, I mellow in a reverie
– Hope renewed –
As Juno saw to suckle me with
Quintessential summer.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
All rights reserved

See the link below for notes on this poem:

http: //succumbedtothinking.webs.com/featuredpoems.htm

June June June June June June June in summer
Summer for June summer for June summer for June in summer
June June June June June June June in summer
Summer for June summer for June summer for June in summer
June June June June June June June in summer
Summer for June summer for June summer for June in summer
June June June June June June June in summer
Summer for June summer for June summer for June in summer
Summer summer June summer June in summer summer

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Summertime Rolls

Fell into
A sea of grass
And disappeared among
The shady blades...
Children all
Ran over me
Screaming tag!
You are the one!

He trips her as
Her sandals fail
She says stop!
I'm a girl...
Whose fingernails are made
Of mother's pearl...

Yellow buttercup
Helicopters
Orange buttercat
Chasing after
The crazy bee
Mad about somebody...

Me and my girlfriend
Don't wear no shoes
Her nose is painted pepper
Sunlight...
She loves me
I mean it's serious
As serious can be...

She sings a song and
I listen to what it says:
If you want a friend
Feed any animal...
There was so much space
I cut me a piece
With some fine wine
It brought peace to my mind
In the summertime...
And it rolled

Summer.... oh...
Oh.... the summertime rolls

song performed by by Jane's Addiction from Nothing's Shocking
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There Were Late Afternoons As A Child

There were late afternoons when as a child
I would see the tall popular trees
making the pale blue sky seem much higher
where they grew next to the old farm dam

with there branches whispering
in the early night breeze,
with doves and finches calling
from their nests in the shelter of these trees,

when an early moon would appear
and the evening star would suddenly start twinkling
blue-white in its sheer brightness against a darker blue sky,
like a mother goose leading all of the other stars.

There were early evenings when the sun
died with its deep red glow touching
the hillocks that were covered in sugar bushes,
and red flowering aloes,

when the scent of protea flowers was sweet on the air,
when blue changed to darker black,
when darkness came suddenly
and a myriad of stars sparkled all over the sky

while in the distance fires came to life
at the rural mud huts, while jackals
and dogs started to howl at the bright yellow moon,
while I knew that mother would be home soon.

poem by Gert Strydom
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There Were Late Afternoons

There were late afternoons when as a child
I would see the tall popular trees
making the pale blue sky seem much higher
where they grew next to the old farm dam

with there branches whispering
in the early night breeze,
with doves and finches calling
from their nests in the shelter of these trees,

when an early moon would appear
and the evening star would suddenly start twinkling
blue-white in its sheer brightness against a darker blue sky,
like a mother goose leading all of the other stars.

There were early evenings when the sun
died with its deep red glow touching
the hillocks that were covered in sugar bushes,
and red flowering aloes,

when the scent of protea flowers was sweet on the air,
when blue changed to darker black,
when darkness came suddenly
and a myriad of stars sparkled all over the sky

while in the distance fires came to life
at the rural mud huts, while jackals
and dogs started to howl at the bright yellow moon,
while I knew that mother would be home soon.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Early In The Morning

Early in the morning and I cant get right
Had a little date with my baby last night
Now its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Well its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Now its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Went to all the places where we used to go
Went to your house but you dont live there no more
Now its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Well its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Went to your friends house but she was out
Knock on your fathers door and he began to shout get out there boy
Early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Went to doogie chain to get something to eat
Waiter looked at me and said you sure look beat
Now its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning (early in the morning)
Well its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Well its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Well its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues

song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pirouetting Autumn

The tree blushed - a rude blast of air
Betrayed a shapely bough.
My saddened heart aware
That Nature's clock was chiming,
I froze upon the twelfth
Clanging tone, caught alone,
Staring at a creaking door -
Left ajar for dancing, coloured Autumn,
Pirouetting in her leaves,
While agitated summer creatures
Backed away resignedly,
Sighing in protracted breves.
I turned; gave company;
We stood together, watching
Summer slowly blow away.

Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009

A utumn autumn autumn autumn
Autumn autumn autumn autumn
Autumn autumn autumn autumn
Autumn autumn autumn autumn
Autumn autumn autumn autumn
Autumn autumn autumn autumn
Autumn autumn autumn autumn
Autumn autumn autumn autumn

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Dancing In The Moonlight

Walking in the rain far away from nowhere.
No more noise, just silence and the music thats in my brain.
Walking through the night, a different atmosphere.
No more noise, just silence and the sound thats in my ear.
Im just dancing, dancing in the moonlight.
Im dancing, dancing in the moonlight.
Walking down the hill listening to the trees.
No more noise, just silence and the raindrops on my shoes.
Walking down the beach sparkling lights on the water.
No more noise, just silence and by the way Im feeling free.
Im dancing, dancing in the moonlight.
Im dancing, dancing in the moonlight.
Im dancing, dancing in the moonlight.
Im dancing, dancing in the moonlight.
Im just dancing, dancing in the moonlight.
Im dancing, dancing in the moonlight.
Im dancing, dancing in the moonlight.
Im dancing, dancing in the moonlight.

song performed by by Scooter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mowing the Lawn

The chestnut tree is now stripped bare
and all of the golden leaves have been raked,
bagged in black sacks.

The last summer sun
hangs white hot in the autumn air
while the lawnmower growls willingly.

There’s sand and grass
coming into my nose and the weed-eater
cuts away the jungle.

I see the two cats
climbing down a evergreen tree
from the roof of the garage

and there are ripe yellow tomatoes
on stems in long rows
and a few figs swelling out
hanging on branches
and I cut tufts of grass
at the back of the prickly pears.

poem by Gert Strydom
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The Yellowhammer

When shall I see the white-thorn leaves agen,
And yellowhammers gathering the dry bents
By the dyke side, on stilly moor or fen,
Feathered with love and nature's good intents?
Rude is the tent this architect invents,
Rural the place, with cart ruts by dyke side.
Dead grass, horse hair, and downy-headed bents
Tied to dead thistles--she doth well provide,
Close to a hill of ants where cowslips bloom
And shed oer meadows far their sweet perfume.
In early spring, when winds blow chilly cold,
The yellowhammer, trailing grass, will come
To fix a place and choose an early home,
With yellow breast and head of solid gold.

poem by John Clare
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Life Is Lovely All the Year

When the buds are blossoming,
Smiling welcome to the spring,
Lovers choose a wedding day -
Life is love in merry May!

Spring is green - Fal lal la!
Summer's rose - Fal lal la!
It is sad when Summer goes,
Fal la!
Autumn's gold - Fal lal la!
Winter's grey - Fal lal la!
Winter still is far away -
Fal la!
Leaves in Autumn fade and fall;
Winter is the end of all.
Spring and summer teem with glee:
Spring and summer, then, for me!
Fal la!

In the Spring-time seed is sown:
In the Summer grass is mown:
In the Autumn you may reap:
Winter is the time for sleep.

Spring is hope - Fal lal la!
Summer's joy - Fal lal la!
Spring and Summer never cloy,
Fal la!
Autumn, toil - Fal lal la!
Winter, rest - Fal lal la!
Winter, after all, is best -
Fal la!
Spring and summer pleasure you,
Autumn, ay, and winter, too -
Every season has its cheer;
Life is lovely all the year!
Fal la!

poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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Season of Mists

I thank you for your view of a view of autumn, Keats
who never saw your own autumn with its actual pitfalls.
Yours was the autumn of childhood, of hope, or romance, of belief,
my mother's autumn though not that of her hardworking family,
yours was never my father's autumn, season of mists,
and yours is not mine. My autumn
for all I would like to subscribe to your lavish play,
is like yours only in single ways each year,
perhaps there are swallows making a din,
or plums and apples falling wasp-eaten, unharvestable.
There is no sickle in my vocabulary or shed,
my autumn is based more on dread of the winter
and having had so little time each summer
to tidy or attend to the garden. Last year
early snow fell on flower baskets ditched from the street
and remained both snow and baskets until the spring
leaving me two seasons behind, without strategy
for a fast approaching repeat autumn, little wonder
and no chance to make anything faintly rhyme,
such is our modern poetry and life

poem by Sally Evans
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Transposition

on the dry pavement
summer stones
and pebbles
and grass with dews

early morning light
pearls and diamonds and
yellow mantle crawling
spreading

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Crazy Tradesmen Rhymes No2

I used to know a fellow in the farming trade,
You could always tell his chickens
By the eggs they laid;
They were small like him
And between you and me
You would have to buy a dozen
If you needed only three.

Written Autumn 1995

poem by John Carter Brown
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