Born On A Natural Wing
Love born on a natural wing,
young hearts that sing
springs song of joy
effects the heart of the sly and coy.
Breeze cool, crisp and clean,
ruffles leaves on trees where lovers lean.
Lanes of a million feet before,
fill again with lover’s lore.
Sleepy hollows feel springs touch;
awaken beauty from the sleepy hush.
The sun spreads warmth from the sky,
looking down with its yellow eye.
Birds fly south on the wing,
now winter has kissed everything.
My, my how times does fly,
hear the wedding bells of June and July.
Again, we wake to an autumn morn;
winds are harsh and full of scorn.
Snow again will adorn our eyes.
A blanket of white before us lies,
Oh we ode for again the spring,
and love born on a natural wing.
1976
poem by David Harris
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The Fallen Leaves
I.
WE stand among the fallen leaves,
Young children at our play,
And laugh to see the yellow things
Go rustling on their way:
Right merrily we hunt them down,
The autumn winds and we,
Nor pause to gaze where snow-drifts lie,
Or sunbeams gild the tree:
With dancing feet we leap along
Where wither'd boughs are strown;
Nor past nor future checks our song--
The present is our own.
II.
We stand among the fallen leaves
In youth's enchanted spring--
When Hope (who wearies at the last)
First spreads her eagle wing.
We tread with steps of conscious strength
Beneath the leafless trees,
And the colour kindles on our cheek
As blows the winter breeze;
While, gazing towards the cold grey sky,
Clouded with snow and rain,
We wish the old year all past by,
And the young spring come again.
III.
We stand among the fallen leaves
In manhood's haughty prime--
When first our pausing hearts begin
To love 'the olden time;'
And, as we gaze, we sigh to think
How many a year hath pass'd
Since 'neath those cold and faded trees
Our footsteps wander'd last;
And old companions--now perchance
Estranged, forgot, or dead--
Come round us, as those autumn leaves
Are crush'd beneath our tread.
IV.
We stand among the fallen leaves
In our own autumn day--
And, tott'ring on with feeble steps,
Pursue our cheerless way.
We look not back--too long ago
Hath all we loved been lost;
Nor forward--for we may not live
To see our new hope cross'd:
But on we go--the sun's faint beam
A feeble warmth imparts--
Childhood without its joy returns--
The present fills our hearts!
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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Spring
Frost-locked all the winter,
Seeds, and roots, and stones of fruits,
What shall make their sap ascend
That they may put forth shoots?
Tips of tender green,
Leaf, or blade, or sheath;
Telling of the hidden life
That breaks forth underneath,
Life nursed in its grave by Death.
Blows the thaw-wind pleasantly,
Drips the soaking rain,
By fits looks down the waking sun:
Young grass springs on the plain;
Young leaves clothe early hedgerow trees;
Seeds, and roots, and stones of fruits,
Swollen with sap put forth their shoots;
Curled-headed ferns sprout in the lane;
Birds sing and pair again.
There is no time like Spring,
When life's alive in everything,
Before new nestlings sing,
Before cleft swallows speed their journey back
Along the trackless track -
God guides their wing,
He spreads their table that they nothing lack, -
Before the daisy grows a common flower
Before the sun has power
To scorch the world up in his noontide hour.
There is no time like Spring,
Like Spring that passes by;
There is no life like Spring-life born to die, -
Piercing the sod,
Clothing the uncouth clod,
Hatched in the nest,
Fledged on the windy bough,
Strong on the wing:
There is no time like Spring that passes by,
Now newly born, and now
Hastening to die.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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The Winter's Spring
The winter comes; I walk alone,
I want no bird to sing;
To those who keep their hearts their own
The winter is the spring.
No flowers to please--no bees to hum--
The coming spring's already come.
I never want the Christmas rose
To come before its time;
The seasons, each as God bestows,
Are simple and sublime.
I love to see the snowstorm hing;
'Tis but the winter garb of spring.
I never want the grass to bloom:
The snowstorm's best in white.
I love to see the tempest come
And love its piercing light.
The dazzled eyes that love to cling
O'er snow-white meadows sees the spring.
I love the snow, the crumpling snow
That hangs on everything,
It covers everything below
Like white dove's brooding wing,
A landscape to the aching sight,
A vast expanse of dazzling light.
It is the foliage of the woods
That winters bring--the dress,
White Easter of the year in bud,
That makes the winter Spring.
The frost and snow his posies bring,
Nature's white spurts of the spring.
poem by John Clare
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When We Meet Again Sometime This Summer
i tell you, i do not like winters, and i do not wish
to go where winter lies. I am intolerant of anything
that freezes me, that thaws, that gives me frost,
that bites like an ant, that solidifies me like
refrigerator ice.
i like summers. Flowers blooming. Green grass
spreading. Butterflies in different colors in the garden.
Bees just enough for the buzz. I love trees. I love
rivers, and springs and creeks.
Bamboo trees beside the rocks beside the pebbles
beside the river. I like the songs of the rivers. Lots of rivers.
Gentle rains. Hush winds. Cool shades. Shadows of mountains.
When we meet again, i like it to be this summer.
Lots of sun. Warmth., Sweat. Perspirations. Palpitations
of the hearts of the young on summer time.
Under the cool shades of the trees on summer nights.
I always remember summer nights.Strong summer winds.
Flown hair. Drying pants and underwears. My legs exposed
Beside the brook. I like being naked. I like being on top of
everything.
With you, on you, by you, within you, in your mouth all over your face.
Oh summer breeze. See you. Feel you. Love you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Love Has Its Seasons
A cool chill sweeps through the air
winter is approaching
soon the grass will have a blanket of white
nights will get longer
then soon it will be over for another year.
Spring will be with us
new growth will spring up from the ground
the days will get warmer
when summer once again appears
spreading its colours everywhere.
Then it is back into autumn once more
and the chilly air that it brings.
Love has its seasons also to share
sometimes it can be frosty
and winter chills fill the air
it can be cold
like the white blanket of snow.
Love can be like spring
imparting new life as it begins to grow.
The glow that if offers
is like the warming summer sun
that blossoms into beauty
before the ravages of autumn come
and the years trickle away.
poem by David Harris
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I Just Called To Say I Love You
No new yearss day
To celebrate
No chocolate covered candy hearts to give away
No first of spring
No song to sing
In fact heres just another ordinary day
No april rain
No flowers bloom
No wedding saturday within the month of june
But what it is
Is something true
Made up of these three words that I must say to you
I just called to say I love you
I just called to say how much I care
I just called to say I love you
And I mean it from the bottom of my heart
No summers high
No warm july
No harvest moon to light one tender august night
No autumn breeze
No falling leaves
No even time for birds to fly to southern skies
No libra sun
No halloween
No giving thanks to all the christmas joy you bring
But what it is
Though old so new
To fill your heart like no three words could ever do.
I just called to say I love you
I just called to say how much I care
I just called to say I love you
And I mean it from the bottom of my heart.
I just called to say I love you
I just called to say how much I care
I just called to say I love you
And I mean it from the bottom of my heart
Of my heart
Of my heart
song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Autumn Leaves
Autumn leaves, in the trees
Falling to the ground
Colors of many, in the breeze
Of red and orange and brown.
Rainbow parks in the dark
Moonlight shimmers down
On the leaves, from the trees
Falling to the ground.
Lovers walk, hear them talk
To where Children played
See the beauty, and feel the warmth
From where nature stayed.
Barren trees, forgotten leaves
Another year gone by
All alone from a breeze
As the lovers softly cry.
Autumn leaves from the trees
Lying, on the ground
See the beauty, feel the warmth
And hear, autumns sound.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Spring Comes Hither
Spring comes hither
Buds the rose . . .
Roses wither
Sweet spring goes . . .
O ja là
O ja là . . .
Would she carry me.
Summer soars
Wide-wing'd day . . .
White light pours
Flies away . . .
O ja là
O ja là . . .
Would he carry me.
Soft winds blow
Westward borne . . .
Onward go
Towards the morn
O ja là
O ja là . . .
Would they carry me.
Sweet birds sing
O'er the graves
Then take wing
O'er the waves
O ja là
O ja là . . .
Would they carry me.
poem by George Eliot
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Winter's Whitest Spurts
Although John Clare declared that he
saw spring in winter’s whitest spurts,
for many this is hard to see
when, freezing, all our body hurts,
and winter’s direst discontent
makes cold blasts pierce the frozen soul.
We wonder where the summer went
when icy winds exact their toll,
and whistling toll for all of us
on nights we wish would be more silent.
each blast a blaring blunderbuss
that’s aimed to make us all an island,
disconnected from the spring
and summer, fall, that we remember
when we for warmth our cold arms fling
around each other in December.
Inspired by John Clare’s “The Winter’s Spring”:
THE winter comes; I walk alone,
I want no bird to sing;
To those who keep their hearts their own
The winter is the spring.
No flowers to please-no bees to hum-
The coming spring's already come.
I never want the Christmas rose
To come before its time;
The seasons, each as God bestows,
Are simple and sublime.
I love to see the snowstorm hing;
'Tis but the winter garb of spring.
I never want the grass to bloom:
The snowstorm's best in white.
I love to see the tempest come
And love its piercing light.
The dazzled eyes that love to cling
O'er snow-white meadows sees the spring.
I love the snow, the crumpling snow
That hangs on everything,
It covers everything below
Like white dove's brooding wing,
A landscape to the aching sight,
A vast expanse of dazzling light.
It is the foliage of the woods
That winters bring-the dress,
White Easter of the year in bud,
That makes the winter Spring.
The frost and snow his posies bring,
Nature's white spurts of the spring.
12/24/09
poem by Gershon Hepner
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Ill Take The Rain
The rain came down
The rain came down
The rain came down on me.
The wind blew strong
The summer song
Fades to memory
I knew you when
I loved you then
The summers young and helpless.
You laid me bare
You marked me there
The promises we made.
I used to think
As birds take wing
They sing through life so why cant we?
You cling to this
You claim your best
If this is what youre offering
Ill take the rain
Ill take the rain
Ill take the rain.
The nighttime creases
Summer schemes
And stretches out to stay.
The sun shines down
You came around
You love easy days.
But now the sun,
The winters come.
I wanted just to say
That if I hold
Id hope youd fold
Open up inside, inside of me.
I used to think
As birds take wing
They sing through life so why cant we?
You cling to this
You claim your best
If this is what youre offering
Ill take the rain
Ill take the rain
Ill take the rain.
This winter song
Ill sing along
Ive searched its still refrain
Ill walk alone
Ive given this, take wing
Celebrate the rain.
I used to think
As birds take wing
They sing through life so why cant we?
You cling to this
You claim your best
If this is what youre offering
Ill take the rain
Ill take the rain
Ill take the rain.
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Parting
The year is on the wing, my love,
With tearful days and nights;
The clouds are on the wing above
With gathering swallow-flights.
The year is on the wing, my sweet,
And in the ghostly race,
With patter of unnumbered feet,
The dead leaves fly apace.
The year is on the wing, and shakes
The last rose from its tree;
And I, whose heart in parting breaks,
Must bid adieu to thee.
poem by Mathilde Blind
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My Walk IV: Autumn
Reds, browns, yellows and green
Amber, orange and gold
Halloween in Autumn seen
For us all, to behold
Crisp Autumn days
Leaves under foot crackle
Not long to stay
Hear some Ravens hackle.
Breath forming a small cloud
In the chill of the morn
A child's sharp intake loud
Happy faces never forlorn.
Sharp blue skies
So clear and clean
Birds on wing, to hibernation fly
Nature holding itself up to be seen
Winter soon to be calling
Holding within its bitter cold
As leaves continue falling
Another year gone, another year old.
poem by Robert Green
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Last Spring
THIS morning at the door
I heard the Spring.
Quickly I set it wide
And, welcoming,
'Come in, sweet Spring,' I cried,
'The winter ash, long dried,
Waits but your breath to rise
On phantom wing.'
A brown leaf shivered by,
A soulless thing--
My heart in quick dismay
Forgot to sing--
Twisted and grim it lay,
Kin to the ghost-ash gray,
Dead, dead--strange herald this
Of jocund Spring!
I spurned it from the door.
I longed that Spring
Should come with song and glow
And rush of wing,
Not this, not this!--But O
Dead leaf, a year ago
You were the dear first-born
Of Hope and Spring!
poem by Isabel Ecclestone Mackay
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* * *
The old is going, let him go,
The new, ringing out across the snow!
Look at the sky,
Spring draws nigh!
It’s playing lyre,
For us seeking our household fire!
Warmth is knocking at the door,
Winter is shaken to the core!
Heart of nature is quickening,
Pairs of birds are on the wing!
Let’s ring in the new,
And turn to the True!
Give up hostility, brutality,
Observe highest human dignity!
When we are dressing the part,
Off the False, clean our heart!
Keep our heart off sorrow,
Keep in mind life is wow!
Let heart get cleaned up,
Just right to the top,
Fill it in the New Year,
With divine love, my dear!
Follow the writer here
poem by Samaneh Nazerian (20 February 2016)
Submitted by Samaneh Nazerian
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Summer Lullaby
The moon peaks from behind a cloud
on a cloudy night.
A night when courting couples
stroll to their rendezvous.
The night is filled with sounds,
from the flutter of an owl on wing
and crickets chirping song.
Our two lovers hear nothing
of this summer lullaby,
but only their two hearts beat
as they stroll along.
The air is fresh and sweet
brushed along by a cool evening breeze.
Far away in distant lands, a war may flourish,
but here within a woodland
the lovers think not of that,
only of a tree on which to lean upon
enjoying one another’s company together
on a perfect summer night.
31 July 2009
poem by David Harris
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When The Roses Bloom Again
When the roses bloom again,
I know that spring is here.
When the roses bloom again,
love will fill the air;
hearts will start to flutter
like a small bird on the wing.
Voices from the rooftops
will once again begin to sing.
When the roses bloom again,
to my loving arms you will come.
I will feel the warmth and tenderness
of your loving embrace.
When the roses bloom again,
everything will be as it always was.
The perfumes of a new day
will fill my world with love,
and all this will happen
when the roses bloom again.
26 June 2008
poem by David Harris
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The Wedding Gown Of The Spring Is More Fair (Rondel Prime)
The wedding gown of the spring is more fair
than the stark nakedness that winter does bring,
when many trees do their bright garments wear
and day and night birds do rejoicing sing,
while insects buzz and flutter in the air
and happiness is in everything living.
The wedding gown of the spring is more fair
than the stark nakedness that winter does bring,
than the silence that is cold and bare,
when some birds do frolic, to and thro wing
their way and gladness is in their flying
until the sun's late afternoon red glare.
The wedding gown of the spring is more fair
than the stark nakedness that winter does bring.
poem by Gert Strydom
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O, Were My Love
O, were my love yon lilac fair
Wi' purple blossoms to the spring,
And I a bird to shelter there,
When wearied on my little wing.
How I wad mourn when it was torn
By Autumn wild and Winter rude!
But I wad sing on wanton wing
When youthfu May its bloom renew'd.
O, gin my love were yon red rose,
That grows upon the castle wa',
And I mysel a drap o' dew
Into her bonie breast to fa',
O, there, beyond expression blest,
I'd feast on beauty a' the night,
Seal'd on her silk-saft faulds to rest,
Till fley'd awa by Phoebus' light!
poem by Robert Burns
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O, Were My Love Yon Lilac Fair
O, were my love yon lilac fair
Wi' purple blossoms to the spring,
And I a bird to shelter there,
When wearied on my little wing.
How I wad mourn when it was torn
By Autumn wild and Winter rude!
But I wad sing on wanton wing
When youthfu May its bloom renew'd.
O, gin my love were yon red rose,
That grows upon the castle wa',
And I mysel a drap o' dew
Into her bonie breast to fa',
O, there, beyond expression blest,
I'd feast on beauty a' the night,
Seal'd on her silk-saft faulds to rest,
Till fley'd awa by Phoebus' light!
poem by Robert Burns
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It's Cold For May
it's cold for May and weather most severe
And swallow yet to return home this year
And still no trace or sound of bird cuckoo
And to hear him now would be like dream come true.
And trees and hedgerows not yet in full leaf
And Winter rob Spring like cruel hearted thief
And rain since morn and wind blow all day long
And lonely robin pipes a lonely song.
And worried farmer under cloud of woe,
His livestock hunger and the grass don't grow
And from fodder purchase last year's profits gone
And times are hard and hard to carry on.
I think of balmy days and Springs gone by
When sun shone brightly in a cloudless sky
And blissful skylark all day on the wing
At heaven's gate to angels songs did sing.
What's happened with the weather anyway?
Seems more like January than the month of May
And wintery conditions still prevail
And few birds sing now in the windswept vale.
But feelings of hopelessness and despair
Don't ever seem to get one anywhere
And in god's good time the weather will come fine
And grass will grow and the sun will brightly shine.
poem by Francis Duggan
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