From a Window
Up here, with June, the sycamore throws
Across the window a whispering screen;
I shall miss the sycamore more I suppose,
Than anything else on this earth that is out in green.
But I mean to go through the door without fear,
Not caring much what happens here
When I’m away: --
How green the screen is across the panes
Or who goes laughing along the lanes
With my old lover all the summer day.
poem by Charlotte Mary Mew
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Related quotes
Green, green and green
I want a holiday with a scene
Of green, green and green
A summer of green trees
A landscape of green grass
A view full of green vegetables
The colour green
Is a beauty that must be seen!
From a moving vehicles screen
And while we hold onto those machines
That deprives us of the colour green
Remember they provide us vaccines
As well as help the air to be clean
So for green, green and green
I will travel continents across and in-between
And also to any place that I have never been
I will make it routine
Just to see green, green and green
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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My Sycamore Tree
A rainbow appeared across the sky
Like a promise
A covenant
Shinning on high
I waited and watched Making sure I could see
Climbing the branches of my sycamore tree
A star shone bright
Symbolizing
Signifying
The importance that night
Men followed it
As I watched happily
Sitting atop my sycamore tree
A white dove descended from the clouds
With a voice
And a light
Amazing the crowds
Water and word
I watched and thought of what it could be
From the tallest branch of my sycamore tree
From a tree like mine a cross was formed
Spitting
Beating
Some laughed while others mourned
I knew there was something I could do
But I was afraid of what would happen to me
So I stayed put, hanging on tight to my sycamore tree
Three days later a butterfly appeared
Alive
And vibrant
Then to my tree it finally neared
It seemed as though it was speaking to me
Speaking of life eternally
So I followed the butterfly as far as I could see
Then I quickly climbed down the branches
Joyully leaving my sycamore tree
poem by Emily Caudill
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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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Ode to Karen and the Summer
June wore her green dress, long her favorite color
the color of her ancient Roman clan
Roman Green
June wore her green dress...as my finger traced a soft essay
upon your perfect back
June wore green
Karen wore blonde
and all around us was light
the solstice was the turning point- solstice curve
poignant as the course of the sun through our summer bodies
the season of the short-lived beings
dead through the dry folds of winter
to flood to life in green vigor
I'm green as a frog, green as any new bug rushing or Mayfly lingering
June's nephews, July and August, were lulled to boredom
by wine and soft days
and left us the blessing
to wallop and play in the gardens
Karen on a summer sidewalk
or a tv show
or a dream in the light
or green eyes
poem by Jimi Doyle
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Sycamore Leaves
Cant stop thinking bout it
It fills me with unease
Out there by the roadside somethings buried
Under sycamore leaves
Wet grounds, late september
The foliage of the trees
I came upon this feeling that someones lying
Covered by sycamore leaves
And I could never make it
And I could never see
And I could never break out
And shake its grip on me
song performed by by A-Ha
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sycamore
Standing in the heat to sit,
Like...
A Sycamore.
I like it that you take risks,
And not shut close your eyes.
I like it.
Oh yes,
I like it.
I will do the driving,
And with me you'll like the ride.
And...
You will like it.
Yes I know you will like it.
The road ahead may get too bumpy,
And tough.
But,
I will not be giving up...
Or slowing when its rough.
'Cause life to me is second nature,
And adore I do...
A Sycamore.
With figs so sweet.
Yet not so common to ignore.
Oh yes I like it,
A fig sweet I can eat.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Cinnamon and Domino!
Can you believe those two, the whole day
Sitting by the screen door window
Staring at the sunlit green
Waiting for a gopher
To come darting through the yard?
One white, one bright like caramel
Solemn side by side
Their tails almost touching,
Heads in a steady line.
DVD players, I-PODs whine
Televisions whispering
In corners of the room behind
Smoky jazz and barbeque
And still they do not turn their heads
As if in shy Memorial
For brave felines passed on
Slowly the day goes by.
(Memorial Day 2008, Sharon, Ma, USA)
poem by Frank Bana
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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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No An Idle Moment
Not an Idle Moment
A fly sits on top of the computer screen
washing its face when not watching me,
incredible it takes lift flies and lands on
the tip of my nose, close up it has
enormous eyes, so big I can see myself.
I hit it, but miss now I have nosebleed,
trickles down to my lips, tastes salty,
drips on my green shirt I’m so proud of.
I go to the bathroom, I’m a boxer, who
has won the match in round six, so what’s
a nosebleed? Take shirt off soaks it in
cold water, put a clean one on, it needs to
be ironed, so who cares a dank day when
even windows cry and the old roof leaks?
The dipterous sits on top of the screen
eyeing me contemptuously, pretend I’ve
forgotten something get up, in the kitchen
cupboard I find insecticide, storm in, spray
my room, the fly curls up and dies. Blank
screen I have forgotten what I was going
to write about.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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In Lavender And Green
Will you come to me in lavender and green?
With bells about your feet,
And music in your step,
When you come to me in lavender and green.
Will you come to me in lavender and green?
With sunshine in your eyes,
And springtime in your hair,
When you come to me in lavender and green.
Will you come to me in lavender and green?
With softness in your words,
And healing in your touch,
When you come to me in lavender and green.
Will you come to me in lavender and green?
With your name upon my lips,
And delight within your kiss,
When you come to me in lavender and green.
Will you come to me in lavender and green,
In dreams at midnight’s rest,
Or afternoon’s recline?
Come then to me in lavender and green.
Will you come to me in lavender and green,
At the setting of the sun,
When my days are nearly run?
Still come to me in lavender and green?
Will you come to me in lavender and green,
If I wait at heaven’s door,
As I waited once before,
While you walked to organ’s tune,
On a summer’s afternoon.
Now dressed in springtime hues?
My love, companion, muse,
A vision still I see,
Dressed in lavender and green.
poem by Greg Davidson
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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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Green, Green, and More Green
There is green everywhere,
even in peoples' hair.Some
on hands, some on shirts.
There is green everywhere!
Green, green, and more green.
I think I'm going crazy over green.
If you don't wear green you get pinched,
then you'll start to itch.
So many people are obsessed with green.
Green Spring, green air.Green feet, green wheat, green meat.
Green isn't very neat!
poem by Autumn Howard
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hot summer night -
on a sycamore tree
the crescendo of cicadas
haiku by Marijo Pinero (2008)
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May's Come To Ireland
The robin he sings on green sycamore bough
And calf drink from udder of her mother cow
And the dark otters play in quiet pools of the stream
And May's come to Ireland and meadows are green,
The sun in the morning shine through the gray fog
And the turf cutters shlaun out dark peat in brown bog
And the gorse bloom with yellow flowers on the brown hill
And golden buttercups bloom on green banks of the rill,
The skylark is carolling his clear notes of joy
As he soars towards the heavens a speck in the sky
And the plain mottled pheasant she sits on her nest
Her twelve olive brown eggs so warm neath her breast
And the swallows fly o'er the green meadows all day
And the hedgerows scent sweet with the blossoms of May.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Sycamore Trees....
i don't imagine sycamore trees
we don't have them
i can't imagine the sea-breeze bringing to me
the perfume of your hair
or remembering once that there was spring and that you were with me
not that i do not like spring
but because there is no spring here
and one last thing,
i can't remember you because you are no longer here with me
honestly what for? do i take another dagger and stab my heart again with
it?
how foolish can i be- that is what my friends are telling me.
i don't remember sycamore trees, and i have no plans remembering them.
we don't have it here.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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 miss the green of my world
I miss the green of my world
I miss the green of muria
The huge trees spread
Everywhere I sight
T miss the green of my front of garden
Where the flower blossom
Roses, jasmines, orchids, and another
I miss the bird
Singing, shouting in the morning
I miss the sun
The morning rising
The warm in my skin
I miss my
Kadilangu, feb/o3/o8
poem by Khoirun Niam
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Ode To The Green Grass Of Summer
green green grass
spreading slowly on the path
of my feet
treaded upon
such green beauty
covering once
this dust, this mud,
this plain expanse
of ugliness
i sing the song
of green green grasess
spreading thinly on
the pavement
grasshoppers
and ants and some worms
yes, the green green grasses
are still their home
patches of earth
from far
you may see
this stitches
of moss
a landscape
of this earth
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Early Works - Big John
Across the silver screen, he rode
a man hell bent for leather.
The idol of generations young and old,
a broad shouldered man with raunchy face
who always fought the good fight.
For fifty years, he rode the screen trail,
but now he’s gone, his name will remain,
as there was only one John Wayne.
13 June 1979
Author’s note:
I wrote this tribute to John Wayne who died on the 12th June 1979. Whom for half a century gave enjoyment to millions. Yes, I was a fan as well.
poem by David Harris
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Green Eyes
got green eyes
as green as grass
on mama's lawn
got green eyes
over greener pastures
on the other fence
got green eyes
baby over your green eyes
when i stay
and you leave me
when you tell me
it is over
got green eyes
as green as
broccoli & lettuce
for my salad
that i serve
and share with my
newly found lover
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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