Season's Crops
On top of the mountain
he gazed bellow, green leaves,
Green fields painted the scenery bellow
Up the clouds gathered,
Black and expectant,
Crops would feast..
He blew a song in whistle, how great
The sign in dew, hope is in human heart
Life is full, with a promise, so bright.
poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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Related quotes
Bellow Can Only Be Bellow
BELLOW CAN BE ONLY BELLOW
Bellow can only be Bellow
Kierkegaard-Kierkegaard
Kafka- Kafka
Joyce- Joyce
Borges- Borges
Pessoa-Pessoa
There is only one of each of us-
And no matter how many pages we write
And how many names we give ourselves and our own characters
No matter how many styles we invent
Each one is only one-
And so this small poem too
Will not be for anyone else
Any more or other
Than so much else
Which has already failed to give me the kind of name
Only the truly great have-.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Summer
The year rejoice with grass
that sprouts out bright green everywhere
and leaves covering
plants and trees.
Life blooms in fruit
that dazzles red, yellow and green on branches
and insects fly swept away,
while the birds sing joyful songs
and the bright white hot sun
hangs high up in the sky.
Lord, give that the fruit coming out of my words
and deeds are not out of conceit
and centred around the I and self, but also stand as a sign
of Your infusion and flower full-blown and great.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Black Angus Bull
Out there in the paddock I hear the black bull
He never stops bellowing when the moon is full
I wonder does the moon effect him in some strange way
For I've never heard him bellow in the light of the day
The full moon does effect people 'tis said
It has an unsettling effect in the head
And if a mental weakness in humans the full moon can find
Why not it too effect the animal kind
He has his herd of cows with him yet I do wonder why
He bellows all night when the moon's in the sky
During the hours of day he is always so quiet
And I've never heard him bellow on a dark night
But he never stops bellowing when the moon is full
Out there in the paddock the black angus bull.
poem by Francis Duggan
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When Green Leaves Come again
WHEN green leaves come again, my love,
When green leaves come again,--
Why put on such a cloudy face,
When green leaves come again?
'Ah, this spring will be like the last,
Of promise false and vain;
And summer die in winter's arms
Ere green leaves come again.
'So slip the seasons--and our lives;
'T is idle to complain:
But yet I sigh, I scarce know why,
When green leaves come again.'
Nay, lift up thankful eyes, my sweet!
Count equal, lost and gain:
Because, as long as the world lasts,
Green leaves will come again.
For, sure as earth lives under snows,
And Love lives under pain,
'T is good to sing with everything,
'When green leaves come again.'
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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I don't even like to talk about it. I hated being a number and not merely because I was a very small one. I let them bellow at me for just as long as it took me to find enough pluck to bellow back at them.
quote by George Grosz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Old Poet
I will be glad because it is the Spring;
I will forget the winter in my heart--
Dead hopes and withered promise; and will wring
A little joy from life ere life depart.
For spendthrift youth with passion-blinded eyes,
Stays not to see how woods and fields are bright;
He hears the phantom voices call, he flies
Upon the track of some unknown delight.
To him the tender glory of the May,
White wonder of the blossom, and the clear,
Soft green leaves that opened yesterday,
This only say: Forward, my friend, not here!
They breathe no other messages than this,
They have no other meaning for his heart;
Unto his troubled sense they tell of bliss,
Which make, themselves, of bliss the better part.
Yea, joy is near him, tho' he does not know;
Her unregarded shape is at his side,
Her unheard voice is whispering clear and low,
Whom, resting never, seeks he far and wide.
So once it was with us, my heart ! To-day
We will be glad because the leaves are green,
Because the fields are fair and soft with May,
Nor think on squandered springtimes that have been.
Paint It
I see a red door and I want it painted black
No colors anymore, I want them to turn black
I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes
I have to turn my head until my darkness goes
I see a line of cars and they are painted black
With flowers and my love both never to come back
I see people turn their heads and quickly look away
Like a new born baby it just happens every day
I look inside myself and see my heart is black
I see my red door and its heading into black
Maybe then Ill fade away and not have to face the facts
Its not easy facing up when your whole world is black
I wanna see it painted painted, painted black, oh baby
I wanna see it painted painted, painted black, oh baby
No more will my green sea go turn a deeper blue
I could not foresee this thing happening to you
If I look hard enough into the setting sun
My love will laugh with me before the morning comes
I wanna see it painted, painted black, oh
Black as night, black as coal
I wanna see the sun blotted from the sky
Painted, painted, painted black oh baby
Painted painted, painted black
song performed by by Vanessa Carlton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Land Is Green
The land is green
It is just green
Do not see any other colour
That will make you not to cultivate
The land is green
It must be green
Avoid the deceit of the unpatriotic
They have only their interest at heart
The land is green
It will remain green
Speak not with the double minded.
Nothing positive will come from them
The land is green
For our crops to grow
For our next generation to feed
Our land is meant to be green
poem by Chika Ogbonna
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The Rim Of Green
Green panties, green roses
green tits, green milk.
Green moon, posies in green.
green eyes, green full lips
green face, cheese, green..
Green around the rim,
green limes can but erupt...?
poem by Is It Poetry
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I fancy I Can See You Old Duhallow
I fancy I can see you old Duhallow
The swallows o'er your fields wing to and fro
And cows from wintering houses out on pasture
And birds are whistling on the green hedgerow.
I lay upon the bracken slopes of Clara
I see the Kerry hills beyond Rathmore
A skylark sing above the silent mountain
His song bring back to me the joys of yore.
You wear your green cloak of the Spring Duhallow
And your beauty from the mountain side I see
From Millstreet to Kanturk on towards Newmarket
Kiskeam to Cullen and up to Knocknagree.
I often think about you green Duhallow
You were the first great love I ever knew
But many others loved you better than I
And they feel quite content to live with you.
I fancy I can see you old Duhallow
In your green groves the wild birds nest and sing
And swallows fly above your fields and meadows
And cuckoo pipes his fanfare of the Spring.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Little Bit Of Green (take 1)
Now that the truth is hard to face
I can't forget you once were mine
Someone else is in my place
Whenever we meet my heart beats out of time
Just a little bit of green
Clouds my eyes to what I've seen
Just a little bit of green
When I see you with someone new
And knowing that there's nothing I can do
Please don't try to tie me down
Those are the words you often say
I can't help seeing you around
You smile with surprise, I turn my eyes away
Just a little bit of green
Oh-oh-ho, clouds my eyes to what I've seen
Just a little bit of green
When I see you with someone new
And knowing that there's nothing I can do
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh
Just a little bit of green
Oh-oh-ho, clouds my eyes to what I've seen
Just a little bit of green
When I see you with someone new
And knowing that there's nothing I can do
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh
Just a little bit of green
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Green Bananas
Does anyone eat green bananas?
then why have them in the stores?
By the time you think of eating one ripe!
they're full of fruit flies, in the hundreds or maybe more!
My husband loves green bananas
he says, cause they're solid and much more flavorful.
I think they taste kind of green and bitter
with every green and bitter mouthful!
I wonder if monkeys eat them green?
Or do they also wait until they're ripe?
Just peeling them when they're green
leaves those long stringy things of white!
I've taken to freezing mine now
in plastic bags, for my daily protien shakes!
Now I don't have to worry about the ones that turn black!
From the green ones that I wouldn't take!
poem by Linda Winchell
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Monroe Louisiana
On the green, green farm
In green, green Monroe Louisiana
So green, green
Wet-luscious green and alive
So green after the rain
So bright green and clean
Just passing through
On my way to tomorrow
But so green today and yesterday
It was on that stranger's green, green farm
And I didn't stay long
And I didn't expect someone
To fire that shotgun right next to me
The barrel pointed out the front door
Into that green, green world beyond.
There were hot springs
On the green, green farm
In green, green Monroe Louisiana
Back in 1973.
poem by M.L. Squier
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A Little Bit Of Green
(words & music by arnold - morrow - martin)
Now that the truth is hard to face
I cant forget you once were mine
Someone else is in my place
Whenever we meet my heart beats out of time
Just a little bit of green
Clouds my eyes to what Ive seen
Just a little bit of green
When I see you with someone new
And knowing that theres nothing I can do
Please dont try to tie me down
Those are the words you often say
I cant help seeing you around
You smile with surprise, I turn my eyes away
Just a little bit of green
Oh-oh-ho, clouds my eyes to what Ive seen
Just a little bit of green
When I see you with someone new
And knowing that theres nothing I can do
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh
Just a little bit of green
Oh-oh-ho, clouds my eyes to what Ive seen
Just a little bit of green
When I see you with someone new
And knowing that theres nothing I can do
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh
Just a little bit of green
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Beautiful Day
the fields are empty now
the grains have been harvested
the clouds drift and stay a while
on the side of the green mountain
still dressed with mists and fog
the trees line the path
the leaves are green and lush
i take as usual this morning walk
towards a hut beside a graveled path
a white heron arrives and lands
on a drying pond
the sun just shines to mark a
beautiful day
the pale horizon turns pastel blue
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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From A Train
Green and green; and evergreen
in my all, and scurrying
in flickered films
of glimpses, painted green...
and a car in the lane silently shimmers,
as I hear the morning swaying past trees that,
green over green,
silently guard the wet summer sadness,
where cattle stare at the hopping rooks
and do not know
of the things that have been...
or care.
Cloudly and bright:
passing the green.
Where, in my remembrance of once long ago,
I felt the mist
rising unseen from the grass
that was green between green
when we kissed.
So I hum a small phrase
that carries my thoughts
ever and onwards,
listlessly flowing
like the world that is passing
the window beside me
all behind all, so totally green
and all in my knowing
and all in my all
and all in my green.
poem by Peter Jones
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Those Green Fields Of Kilmeedy
Those green fields of Kilmeedy I do remember still
They meet the gorse and bracken at the foot of Clara hill
A place of peace and beauty with mountains all around
Scarce touched by man's pollution where Nature's joys abound.
Even in summer in Kilmeedy the dawn comes with a chill
But skylark he is piping above the bracken hill
Through Spring and through the Summer he sings all through the day
And I fancy I can hear him o'er mountains far away.
The robin he is piping on flowering hawthorn tree
Across the miles of distance his music comes to me
And dunnock on the hedgerow and dipper in the stream
And song thrush piping gaily on ash by old bohreen.
All through the Spring and Summer the wildering flowers are seen
But green fields of Kilmeedy not always quite so green
In November and December the winds of Winter blow
And January and February bring frost and sleet and snow.
In mid March in Kilmeedy the first wildflowers appear
And weather still quite chilly though days of bloom are near
But April brings her blossoms and leaves behind her green
And May comes o'er the mountain the summer beauty queen.
Those green fields of kilmeedy I see them every day
And I hear the skylark piping o'er hillsides far away
And dunnock on the hedgerow and the dipper in the stream
And those green fields of Kilmeedy have never looked so green.
poem by Francis Duggan
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What Did The Wind Tell The Rose?
what the wind tells the rose to make it bloom
what the sky tells the mountain
to make it more green?
what the clouds tell the sea
so the boats can sail smoothly
what the birds sing to the sun?
what the leaves tell the ground
in utter peace?
what all this world give
to make life more
with life?
it is found here in my heart
singing
a song to my God.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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New For Old
Bud blisters into life
Stretching for the light
Unfolding radiant green
Upturned palm to the sun
Life seeping in, breathing out
Green, Green so Green
Resurrected hope, so Green
Summer breeze stroking
Branches ebb and flow
Leaves so Green strong now
Fear not wind of change
Mellow summer turns
Green, green, green-yellow
Yellow area of dieing heart
Green lingers no more
Limp transparent yellow
Barely a breeze takes one
Fierce Hyde-like wind now
Cracking and ripping
Wind torn leaves fall
Life chords snapped
Death too early, still Green
Nourishment broken not ended
Seasons build up to tear down
To build up, to tear down
Leaves fall, Green leaves fall
And then some more
Until leaves are falling, falling
Trees and branches revealed
In the x-ray of autumn blast
Winter is coming
Winter is coming
Yellow pale yellow carpet
Beneath the naked tree
Yellow, mulchy brown
Once crisp leaves scatter
Green, yellow, transparent veins
Tired, half dead, leaves lose their grip
Join the autumn rain soaked mound
Providing new life to the roots
Old for new, New for Old
Seeds buried in death
Bring new life in Spring
In the end is the beginning.
poem by Adrian Wait
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April on the Battlefields
April now walks the fields again,
Trailing her tearful leaves
And holding all her frightened buds against her heart:
Wrapt in her clouds and mists,
She walks,
Groping her way among the graves of men.
The green of earth is differently green,
A dreadful knowledge trembles in the grass,
And little wide-eyed flowers die too soon:
There is a stillness here --
After a terror of all raving sounds --
And birds sit close for comfort upon the boughs
Of broken trees.
April, thou grief!
What of thy sun and glad, high wind,
Thy valiant hills and woods and eager brooks,
Thy thousand-petalled hopes?
The sky forbids thee sorrow, April!
And yet --
I see thee walking listlessly
Across those scars that once were joyous sod,
Those graves,
Those stepping-stones from life to life.
Death is an interruption between two heart-beats,
That I know --
Yet know not how I know --
But April mourns,
Trailing her tender green,
The passion of her green,
Across the passion of those fearful fields.
Yes, all the fields!
No barrier here,
No challenge in the night,
No stranger-land;
She passes with her perfect countersign,
Her green;
She wanders in her mournful garden,
Dropping her buds like tears,
Spreading her lovely grief upon the graves of man.
poem by Leonora Speyer
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