Ressurection
Burning leaves,
Stinging scent in nostrils,
Tender leaves resurrect on Earth.
Dull feet
Tired pistons
Farmer throws mud caked boots
New dawn, a bird sings.
I look for a glint of fire
For my grandmothers pipe
The smoke will rise,
Mother, resurrection sits on hope.
poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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Related quotes
Love's Blindness
Now do I know that Love is blind, for I
Can see no beauty on this beauteous earth,
No life, no light, no hopefulness, no mirth,
Pleasure nor purpose, when thou art not nigh.
Thy absence exiles sunshine from the sky,
Seres Spring's maturity, checks Summer's birth,
Leaves linnet's pipe as sad as plover's cry,
And makes me in abundance find but dearth.
But when thy feet flutter the dark, and thou
With orient eyes dawnest on my distress,
Suddenly sings a bird on every bough,
The heavens expand, the earth grows less and less,
The ground is buoyant as the ether now,
And all looks lovely in thy loveliness.
poem by Alfred Austin
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Carry On The Spark In Your Heart
there will be lots of dry leaves to fall
from a tree to produce a fruit
more leaves to be blown by the wind
to make that flower with a sweet scent
and bright color
there will be thorns and worms and
sickening barks
there will even be deaths of
some trees not just
the shedding of leaves
but what matters most
is for you to carry on
with the mission
to bloom
do not let that spark die
that fire that keeps burning in your heart
make it live
carry on carry on
it does not just take a blink of an eye
to make this
beautiful universe
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mellow Autumn
Autumns rich mellow flavoured air
Unmasked, the trees are now bare.
Seldom do we hear the birds sing
When the Autumn leaves are falling.
Smoke trails from the burning leaves
Carried on the light cool breeze.
The scent of spiced apple days
In the suns golden haze.
The Pine towering heavenly high
Dropping fragrances on passres by.
Smell the crisp refreshing air
Wind is blowing everywhere.
The leaves they scatter without sound
Gently cascading to the ground.
© Hazel
poem by Hazel Connelly
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Hidden
he was sitting on one benches of the public park
where anything goes really,
after a stroll, he sits again, putting his feet on a trunk
his arms on the upper side of the bench
the air fans him and he looks at the trees lush with leaves
it rained last night and the scent of freshness is here again
he simply sits there alone...
there is no need of anything
or anyone, in this kind of a very simple bliss.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Burning Feet
No standing with these burning feet
I got to kill the the fire
Got to kill the heat
I see a road and a river
I gotta go
'cos there's fire in my shoes
And you're moving too slow
For these burning feet
I got to move
Burning feet
Need a cool groove
Burning feet
Win or lose
Looking to kill the heat
Oh these burning shoes
One day they'll find me in pieces,
By the side of the track
Smoke trail behind me,
Flames from my back
This is what made me,
Yeah how I was made
Forever, in the heat
And never in the shade
Of these burning feet
Burning feet
I got to move
Burning feet
Need a cool groove
Burning feet
Win or lose
Looking to kill the heat
Oh these burning shoes
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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what do we do to Mother Earth?
do not burn
let the leaves fall to the ground
let them stay there
layer by layer
heap upon heap
let mother earth
hug all the leaves
let the affection be
strong and heavy
let the leaves die
and rot and become
water and become dust
to dust
let all of us see this dust
we shall do what mother earth
and nature loves best
to dust we shall return
and be its permanent part
close to the bosom
of mother earth
forever
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fireman
When fire sits on top of the head
Smoke can hardly enter the nostrils
Feet walking on coals
And fire bugs bite
The fireman loves
He puts on the axe in hand
Better than class rings
Even other rings
Fires burn when they do a job
How the man can burn without
Restriction can burn a man about
Head to toe
The soul is made pure by fire
Man loves to burn
It is even his desire
Afterwards he must
Needs be tended to
If not
The fire has yet a job to do
To burn a man through and through
If so
Hold him dear
In the fire he bore many tears
In this fashion
He lives all his years
What is fire?
It's much like Our Father
Or yet
He be the fireman
And we on fire
poem by Deci Hernandez
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Mother Sky Cries
Mother sky cries when the leaves turn from green to gold
Mother sky cries when the leaves die and the weather turns cold
Mother sky cries when the earth turns warm and the body sweats
Mother sky cries and leaves the heart scorned and the skin wet
Mother sky cries and father cloud mourns
Mother sky cries and baby flower is born
poem by Anthony Martello
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Immortality
Immortality
Every morning an old man, with a jute
sack slung over his bent back,
leaves his cottage.
His mother’s ancient shadow sits by
the fire keeps ember alive. She is older
than the oldest olive tree in the grove.
She came here when the earth was new,
stars not yet born and the moon was
a pale outline on black canvas.
Her son is gathering roses’ dream
and bird songs in the outer field to sustain
her in a life of perpetuity.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Evening Song
In the nearly dark tree
out on the bright edge,
he clings to tender leaves,
rides the wind-swayed branch
and sings.
Small bird,
red as the falling sun,
cries his evening song …
to tarried mate?
to fading sky or
guardian tree?
Drawn deep to darkest night,
I cannot ken this creature’s
pure mind; but his breath
leaves my raptured soul
bereft.
poem by Steven Federle
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We Shall Rise
(traditional/emmylou harris)
In that resurrection morning
When the trumpet of God shall sound
We shall rise, (hallelujah) we shall rise.
Then the saints will come rejoicing and
No tears will eer be found
We shall rise, (hallelujah) we shall rise.
We shall rise, (hallelujah) we shall rise (amen)
We shall rise, (hallelujah)
In that resurrection morning
When these prison bars are broken
We shall rise, (hallelujah) we shall rise.
In that resurrection morning
When the shades of life has fled
We shall rise, (hallelujah) we shall rise.
In the day of glory dawning when the sea
Gives up his dead
We shall rise, (hallelujah) we shall rise.
I shall see my blessed savior
Who so freely died for me
We shall rise, (hallelujah) we shall rise.
And our fathers and our mothers and our
Loved ones we shall see
We shall rise, (hallelujah) we shall rise.
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When The Leaves Come Falling Down
I saw you standing with the wind and the rain in your face
And you were thinking bout the wisdom of the leaves and their grace
When the leaves come falling down
In september when the leaves, come falling down
And at night the moon is shining on a clear, cloudless sky
And when the evening shadows fall Ill be there by your side
When the leaves come falling down
In september when the leaves, come falling down
Follow me down, follow me down, follow me down
To the place beside the garden and the wall
Follow me down, follow me down
To the space before the twilight and the dawn
Oh, the last time I saw paris in the streets, in the rain
And as I walk along the boulevards with you, once again
And the leaves come falling down
In september, when the leaves come falling down
Follow me down, follow me down, follow me down
To the place between the garden and the wall
Follow me down, follow me down
To the space between the twilight and the dawn
And as Im looking at the colour of the leaves, in your hand
As were listening to chet baker on the beach, in the sand
When the leaves come falling down,
Woe in september, when the leaves come falling down
Oh when the leaves come falling down
Yeah in september when the leaves come falling down
When the leaves come falling down
In september, when the leaves come falling down
When the leaves come falling down in september, in the rain
When the leaves come falling down
When the leaves come falting down in september, in the rain
When the leaves come falling down
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Devil Music
They called him 'master'...
When he came.
To take them from the comfort of their homes.
Stripped of treasures,
And their names.
With nothing they could say,
And silent broken hope!
Forced to worship,
Strange deities.
And folks who treated them
Like they were beasts.
Some tried to flee,
The increasing heat.
But many found themselves soon in defeat.
The blazing burned their feet.
And the ones who ran were chased like enemies.
This fire...
It kept on burning!
Burning, burning, burning...
Out of control.
The 'master'...
Desired this fire.
To burn, burn, burn
Out of control!
Morning, noon and night
They'd call him devil.
And sang the music to him that he loved.
They would dance.
And together clap their hands.
This devil music kept them in a hold!
Yes,
The fire...
It kept on burning.
Burning, burning, burning...
Out of control.
The 'master'...
He kept the fire.
Burning, burning, burning
Out of control.
Yes this fire,
It kept on burning!
Burning, burning, burning
Out of control.
I said the fire...
It still keeps burning!
And it's blazing in a rage,
That's out of control!
The spreading flame...
Became higher.
So high it fixed in young minds,
Sold by the old!
Yes,
The fire...
It kept on burning.
Burning, burning, burning...
Out of control.
The 'master'...
He kept the fire.
Burning, burning, burning
Out of control.
Burning, burning, burning
Out of control.
Burning, burning, burrrrrnin...
Out of contrrroooool.
'ssssyesssss...
Children! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tree Is My Animal
Tree is My Animal 7/09
Tree is my animal
And I burst forth from the soil
Past root, worm and grub
Unfurled now my leaves seek mother sun
Nourished and illuminated
I stand neath Methuselahs
Father old and true
Aged moss (ancient moss)
Comforts and warms me
Vines find shelter and comfort along my bones
Mother sun still sings
And centuries have past
But as a new nest appears in my arms
Oh I know I have much to go
And I am now Methuselah
And stand next to my father old and true
And watch as my young sapling grows neath me
My love is alone
I am alone
I stretch to touch her leaves and tickle her branches
My poems I send on the wings of birds, butterflies and bees
I feel the scent of her in the perfumed pollen born on wisps of wind
Wherever you are my Love
I will find you
Though seeds may scatter
And leaves grow few
Though centuries may pass
Here I stand
Now
Tendrils touch
At long last
A Moorish lattice of leaf and bark
Filigree
A canopy of lovers to shade
Lovers from the unwanted gaze of mother sun
Our songs sung by birds at play in our tender union
Our union complete
Til centuries wither our bones
Then to earth
A loamy death to share
This union and
Alone no more
poem by Guillermo Veloso
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Burning
When I look at you
I melt like a candle
You light a fire in me
What am I to do
I just hope I can handle
The heat and the smoke blinding me
This feeling, this fire
This burning desire
Is raging its way through my soul
And if you feel the same
Help me fan the flames
til were burning out of control
Burning to know you
Burning to show you
And Ive felt this way from the start
Burning with passion
I do hope its lasting
And its burning a hole in my heart
You kindle in me
A warm glowing feeling
A spark and a flicker of hope
Its more than a game
And like moths to a flame
Were drawn to its warmth and its glow
These embers of love
Are fueled by the notion
This could be an eternal flame
Consumed by the blaze
I fear its too late
cause this torch that I hold bears your name
Oh, and Im burning to know you
Burning to hold you
Its grown to a flame from a spark
Burning with passion
I do hope its lasting
And its burning a hole in my heart
Oh, Im burning with passion
I do hope its lasting...
Ive had so many dreams fall apart...
And its burning a hole in my heart...
Im burning
Oh, Im burning
Mmmm, Im burning oh, I burning ooh
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Retreat From Moscow
Sad Moscow, thy fate do I see,
Fire! fire! in the city all cry;
Like quails from the eagle all flee,
Escape in a moment or die.
It looks like the battle of Troy,
The storm rises higher and higher;
The scene of destruction all hearts must annoy,
The whirlwinds, the smoke, and the fire.
The dread conflagration rolls forth,
Augmenting the rage of the wind,
Which blows it from south unto north,
And leaves but the embers behind.
It looks like Gomorrah; the flame
Is moving still nigher and nigher,
Aloud from all quarters the people proclaim,
The whirlwinds, the smoke, and the fire.
A dead fumigation now swells,
A blue circle darkens the air,
With tones as the pealing of bells,
Farewell to the brave and the fair.
O Moscow, thou city of grace,
Consign'd to a dread burning pyre,
From morning to ev'ning with sorrow I trace
The wild winds, the smoke, and the fire.
The dogs in the kennel all howl,
The wether takes flight with the ox,
Appal'd on the wing is the fowl,
The pigeon deserting her box.
With a heart full of pain, in the night
Mid hillocks and bogs I retire,
Through lone, deadly vallies I steer by its light,
The wild storm, the smoke, and the fire.
Though far the crash breaks on my ear,
The stars glimmer dull in the sky,
The shrieks of the women I hear,
The fall of the kingdom is nigh.
heaven, when earth is no more,
And all things in nature expire,
May I thus, with safety, keep distant before
The whirlwinds, the smoke, and the fire.
poem by George Moses Horton
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0018 Man Raking Leaves (re Jim Morrison lyric)
The sound of wooden rake scratching concrete.
walk nearer - rustle of dry leaves.
This, the beginning of a Japanese haiku
or maybe a Japanese film -
dry sound first, then rake, then leaves, then man -
that evokes autumn
too near the heart
to need a title
the sound stops. silence. man leans on rake.
then match strikes, there's almost yes an echo
from the dry leaves not yet fallen from the trees
in the forest all around.
then the first tickle in the nostrils
of burning leaves which
the two-year old scrunching through the trees
hand in hand with older sister
will remember all his life
like the silence between
two lines of a haiku or
the silence of the moment when the seasons turn.
and who can say
what the golden-orange-yellow-brown trees
slowly stripping in a rustle as of silken nightgown
to the tune of, more a whisper than a breeze -
what the trees feel
as the incense of their, their, burning leaves
steals like a last caress
for each such faithful
lover?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The Hidden Singer
The gods are less for their love of praise.
Above and below them all is a spirit that needs nothing
but its own wholeness, its health and ours.
It has made all things by dividing itself.
It will be whole again.
To its joy we come together --
the seer and the seen, the eater and the eaten,
the lover and the loved.
In our joining it knows itself. It is with us then,
not as the gods whose names crest in unearthly fire,
but as a little bird hidden in the leaves
who sings quietly and waits, and sings.
poem by Wendell Berry
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Kindness
Things are destined to be lost
To be broken
The leaves fall and rot
At the foot of the tree
The roots soon shrink
And become part
Of the indifference of the
Rocks and the soil
Things move out
And up
Like vapor and then
Change their forms to air
But there are those that weep
And keep
Whatever was lost and destroyed
The leaves they take with their hands
And the roots
They stroke with the toes of their feet
Caress and
Kindness their virtues
That humanity has soon discarded
They grow the seeds in their hearts
They keep the fire of love
Burning
And the earth and the sun and stars
All smile at them
They too grow and scatter and travel
To all the places of this earth
Their forms too many
The gods know
They too must grow and get the world
Of the grass of sorrow
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Seed
A seed
A bird had swallowed
While in fruit,
Had fallen in some rocky land
As Bird-droppings,
And sprouted into
A lovely tree,
With massive trunk
And boughs with verdant leaves,
And luscious fruits
As birds built nests
And wayfarers had shade from scorching sun!
A seed
A farmer sowed
In fertile land,
Ploughed by oxen
And sweat of brow
’neath scorching sun,
Did sprout also:
But ceased to grow
And withered
As the rains had failed
That year!
Although in both the cases
Seeds seemed similar,
Why did the farmer’s toil
Didn’t fructify?
Perhaps,
The bird had gulped
The best of fruits with seed
That grew despite the rocky soil!
Perhaps, the farmer’s work
Remained by God
Unblessed!
Man’s selfishness
At times ruins his labor great!
The heart of man matters!
Each seed
That’s sowed on earth
Grows by Heaven’s decree!
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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