Will I Look Again
As I look around me
at everything my eyes can behold
I wonder if I will ever return
to see another sunrise.
Will I look again at the rolling hills
that have enchanted me
during my holiday,
or the small harbour
where sleeping boats lay?
Will I smell the scents
of autumn’s turning winds
or see all the creatures
Mother Nature likes to bring.
Will I one day return
to enjoy the peace and beauty of it all.
Only the future holds the answer
and it’s not prepared to tell.
26 September 2008
poem by David Harris
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Related quotes
When September Arrives, Again
September arrives and Autumn begins.
The Summer then bows to Fall.
I use to think,
The leaves would cling on until Spring...
In New England.
September arrives,
And the sky loses brightness.
Winds start to whip...
Leaves off of trees.
I use to wonder,
Why I heard thundering...
As it rained to bring a change to things.
September seems erratic and dramatic.
Shifting as it does...
To prepare all for the Winter.
Children return to school,
As cool winds descend.
September has come back,
Again...
So quickly.
September arrives,
And Autumn begins.
The Summer then bows to Fall.
I use to think,
The leaves would cling on until Spring...
In New England.
I use to think,
The leaves would cling on until Spring...
When September arrived.
And Autumn began,
With winds again.
I use to think,
The leaves would cling on until Spring...
As Autumn began,
With winds again to begin.
When September arrived.
When September...
Arrived!
When September,
Arrives...
Again.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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First Day Of My Holiday
Standing looking out at the valley below
with its small tidal bay.
The tall mast lie drunkenly on angles
as their boats are left stranded
after the tide retreated,
back to its roving wanderings.
The calls of the seagulls
bark in the evening air
as the sunset enriches
the surrounding hills in red and gold.
Little birds take their last flights
before dusk and roosting.
A serene scene to greet my eyes
in a laid-back day,
the first day of my holiday.
Away from the clamouring pace
of a life left behind for two weeks.
Just standing and watching for what joys
my life must prepare for
as the evening clouds begin to gather.
Waiting for the hour
when night decides to descend
and bring a quiet close
to the first day of my holiday.
13 September 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The First Day Of My Holiday
Standing looking out at the valley below
with its small tidal bay.
The tall masts lie drunkenly on angles
as their boats are left stranded
after the tide retreated,
back to its roving wanderings.
The calls of the seagulls
bark in the evening air
as the sunset enriches
the surrounding hills in red and gold.
Little birds take their last flights
before dusk and roosting.
A serene scene to greet my eyes
in a laid-back day,
the first day of my holiday.
Away from the clamouring pace
of a life left behind for two weeks.
Just standing and watching for what joys
my life must prepare for
as the evening clouds begin to gather.
Waiting for the hour
when night decides to descend
and bring a quiet close
to the first day of my holiday.
13 September 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beyond The Distant Hills
The sun is shining for me,
beyond the distant hills.
Where my love is waiting,
for my return.
The water is sweet to drink,
beyond the distant hills,
where a warm fire is waiting,
for my return.
The grass bends in the breeze,
beyond the distant hills.
Where my love’s heart yearns
for my return.
A candle lights a window,
beyond the distant hills.
Where someone keeps a watchful eye,
for my return.
Beyond the distant hills,
where no clouds gather,
and no storms darken the sky.
Beyond the distant hills,
bright eyes wait for my return.
Beyond the distant hills,
my dreams will come true,
and I promised myself one day I will get there.
25 April 1988
poem by David Harris
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Mother Durga Vavroovahana Patra
Mother Durgadevee appears in Autumn;
Beauteous looks each dawn.
Appears in the tranquil hour;
Beautifies the lap of Nature.
Mother descends to provide peace;
Is a Brook of Divine Bliss.
Is omnipresent everywhere;
Is the Deity of Nature.
Nature exists with Her desire;
She is the operator of Nature.
Creatures exist with her desire;
She is all creatures operator.
Human beings exists with her desire;
She is our path shower.
I behold mother everywhere;
She is the Deity of Nature.
Divine mother appears pervading rays of fraternity;
Is an ocean of gaiety.
Is a Brook of purity;
Is Earth's light.
Mother's blessings, desire brings self-confidence;
All creatures live with her bliss.
She shows the right way;
In our life brings gay.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Beauty Autumn Vavroovahana Patra
Autumn comes with gaiety;
Alluring Nature smiles with delight.
Attracting in her beauty;
All creatures enchant with delight.
Beauteous looks the lap of Nature;
Benevolent god blesses all creatures.
Boys and girls return from school delightfully.
Best is the Autumn plays allure gaily.
Crows play happily on the tree;
Cows graze on the field being free.
Cattles look beautiful;
Cow-boy plays with them are delightful.
Dogs roam hither, thither are obedient;
Days pass quickly, peasants pray mother with merriment.
Deity of deities Devi Durga prayed everywhere;
Devee loves all creatures.
Eve looks beautiful;
Every hearts are delightful.
Evening brings pleasure;
Entire Earth smiles with pleasure.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Prachi Vavroovahana Patra
Prachi is beautiful;
Birds play on both sides are delightful.
Her water is pure;
Flows with a muttering in the lap of Nature.
At Kakatapur Prachi flows delightfully;
All creatures bathe in the river pleasantly.
Bathes the cosy feet of mother affectionatively;
All devotes enjoy the beauty devotionally.
From time immemorial Prachi flows in the lap of Nature gleefully;
Magnifies the beauty of Nature pleasantly.
Provides water to all creatures;
Creatures live with pleasure.
Prachi is a Deity on Earth;
Bathing in the chilly water all derive mirth.
Allures women, men in morning;
Purifies the souls of human beings, the morn is delighting.
Peace reigns in the lap of Prachi daily;
Women, men, guys, girls enjoy the beauty gaily.
Devotees bathe in the water peacefully;
Mind is filled with peace eternally.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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A Mountshannon October Morning
The stranger sat upon the park bench,
and looked across the Lough.
Smoke from his pipe
blended with the cool morning breeze.
The distant mountains patchwork of green
sat under the hand of dawn’s rolling mist.
The white capped dark waters rolled endlessly against the shore,
nudging the sheltering boats against their moorings,
and washed over shoreline rocks
speckled with lichen and moss.
A pair of swans with their signets sheltered
in the calmer waters of the harbour
away from the white capped waves.
The sun edged its way into the sky,
from behind the sleeping mountains,
spreading red and oranged fingers
to touch the retreating night clouds.
The village adopted ginger cat
made his morning patrol
along the harbour’s sleeping boats,
in a search for breakfast.
The autumn coloured tree leaves,
fluttered in the morning breeze
as the wind and waves rolling
over the shore bound rocks disturbing
the dawning silence.
poem by David Harris
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Amongst The Quiet Of Nature
Amongst the quiet of Nature with wooded hills around
The harsh cawings of the ravens the only living sound
In the nice Winter sunshine it is a pleasant day
From life's many cares and worries a place for to hide away,
Of an Earthly Utopia 'tis not hard to visualize
Where Nature in all of her splendour is beauty to the eyes
I too am part of Nature like all creatures great and small
And memories of Nature's beauty are marvellous memories to recall,
An artist on her canvas would try to capture such a scene
And I enjoy remembering the beauty I have seen
And the unmistakeable sounds of Nature on a sunny Winter's day
Like the clear flute of the magpie on trees not far away
A lovely day in Winter of around eighteen degrees
And in the stony valley there is scarce a puff of breeze.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Little Big Man
I am small because I am a little child. I shall be big when I am
as old as my father is.
My teacher will come and say, "It is late, bring your slate
and your books."
I shall tell him, " Do you not know I am as big as father? And
I must not have lessons any more."
My master will wonder and say, "He can leave his books if he
likes, for he is grown up."
I shall dress myself and walk to the fair where the crowd is
thick.
My uncle will come rushing up to me and say, "You will get
lost, my boy; let me carry you."
I shall answer, "Can't you see, uncle, I am as big as father?
I must go to the fair alone."
Uncle will say, "Yes, he can go wherever he likes, for he is
grown up."
Mother will come from her bath when I am giving money to my
nurse, for I shall know how to open the box with my key.
Mother will say, "What are you about, naughty child?"
I shall tell her, "Mother, don't you know, I am as big as
father, and I must give silver to my nurse."
Mother will say to herself, "He can give money to whom he
likes, for he is grown up."
In the holiday time in October father will come home and,
thinking that I am still a baby, will bring for me from the town
little shoes and small silken frocks.
I shall say, "Father, give them to my data, for I am as big
as you are."
Father will think and say, "He can buy his own clothes if he
likes, for he is grown up."
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Bohol, Land Of Chocolate Hills
Bohol, land of chololate hills
Melvin Banggollay
B-OHOL, Land of the famous chocolate hills
Cradles the smallest primate ever to exist,
The world renown Philippines tarsiers
That loves to cling upon ruboust small trees
As they stare with their round eyes so big.
O-ver its verdant valleys, I have seen many hills
With wonderful scenery sharing nature's gifts
As they speak to us geographical mysteries
And nature's wonder with the beautiful hills
Scattered around with their perfect cone shapes.
H-eaven I behold when I reach the famous hills
and extend my eye upon the horizon of the hills
For I have seen nature's captivating scenery
of cone shape hills that radiates God's mysteries
And his artistic inclination when he made all these.
O-ver the sky, birds from the heaven fly with glee
As they sing with song of praises as they are free
To soar upon the blue sky as they enjoy the scenery
With a promise that they will never destroy the beauty
Of this abode and sanctuary of nature's tapestry.
L-ove our land and never rape its wealth and beauty
But be stewards of God in protecting all its scenery
with all it creation upon its wide verdant valleys
Like the birds, the tarsiers and other wildlife sanctuary
For our children children to behold these someday
poem by Melvin Banggollay
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Were I Born With
Were I born with the gift of poesy I'd write of the beauty I see
The unrivalled beauty of Nature that is everywhere around me
I'd pen my songs to Mother Nature I've loved her since I was a boy
From her people are always learning and lessons from her I enjoy,
I belong to the Goddess of Nature and she is the one I adore
Each day my love for her grows greater I love her now as never before
I feel humans belong to Nature and to her we'll return one day
In the coolness of her dark earthy bosom our remains are destined to lay
So many have great love for Nature and they love her far more than I
They fight to save her trees from deevelopers and they will fight for her until the day that they die
To them she is the one true Goddess yet people like her Seasons come and go
But she is the one who lives forever and her rivers to her oceans flow
were I born with the gift of poesy of Nature I surely would write
her sights and sounds and the scents of her perfume to the senses a source of delight.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Old Routine
Woke up this morning,
my holiday gone to oblivion
right before my eyes.
Work held out its open arms
ready for my return.
It eagerly waited for me
to embrace it with all my might.
Sadly I did not feel incline t
o readily dance to its tune.
I just started slowly
and got back into the old routine.
29 September 2008
poem by David Harris
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Autumn Vavroovahana Patra
Autumn reigns on Earth;
In all creatures plays waves of mirth.
Chilly breeze blows on Earth;
People enjoy the beauty with mirth.
Green paddy plants smile in the lap of Nature;
Goddess operates the lives of all creatures.
Is the Deity of all Deities;
Is our Almighty.
Creatures surrender on mother’s feet;
She is our lives savior, delight.
Provides duty;
Chanting hymns we live with gaiety.
Beauteous looks Autumn firmament.
In all creatures plays waves of merriment;
Silvery cloudy play in the sky;
In poet’s mind plays gay.
Earth looks beautiful;
Creatures are delightful.
Pray goddess gleefully;
Surrender on the Rosy feet gaily.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Return To Nature
Suppose I am one who has a big ego I did have big plans once I do recall
But egos are a thing that inspire in us the need for success and are part of human nature after all
And now that my ego is a bit deflated and others I don't feel need to impress
Something perhaps that came with the realization that my life never has been a success.
Still I am one who finds solace in Nature and Nature the only God of which I know
I've always marvelled at her strength and beauty and still my admiration for her only grow
I had a church God when I was years younger but I gave my unseen church God away
And I returned again to Mother Nature and in her bosom I will rest one day.
The free born birds that sing in Nature's garden each species is distinctive by their song
And the fox that hunts for rabbits in the paddocks these creatures all to Nature's World belong
And the wedge tailed eagle soaring in the calm sky a very large and fearless bird of prey
Too is a part of Mother Nature's World and in Nature's bosom this bird's bones too will lay.
The swallows fly to warm climes in Winter and return home to greet the warmth of Spring
And chase insects o'er the valley where they first saw daylight and as they fly one hear them chirp and sing
How they can find their way to a far Country in late Fall and in the Spring find their way home again
Is something for which scientists can offer theories yet somehow seems beyond them to explain.
The World is quieter in Mother Nature's World for man made noise to Nature doesn't belong
On sunlit tree beside the rippling waters the thrush in Spring is singing all day long
And Nature she presides o'er all her Seasons and she has seen so many Seasons come and go
Her flowers of Spring and Summer and her brown leaves of Autumn and her hills of Winter wear white hats of snow.
I do not worship false Gods any longer and I returned to Nature years ago
And though Mother Nature has so much to teach us so little about her I seem to know
Yet I feel happy to walk in her garden and along the bank of her quiet water way
'Twas an act of Nature brought me to this World and I'll return to her bosom one day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Nature Is Bountiful
Nature is whispering
Light winds over the hills and dales
And is spreading its sunshine
Over beautiful vales
For nature is bountiful
With its glory and shine
And wonderful colors
Of rainbow hue fine
For nature is the art of gracious God
Who spreads his bliss for all
In the form of beautiful flowers and clouds
All trees and brooks and rainbow small
For God sends for us autumn and spring
With their beauty, grace and delight
Where birds dance and joyously sing
To make it a beautiful and a priceless sight
For nature is bountiful
And inspires us to live
In its astonishing beauty
That is present and alive
So let the peace of God Almighty flow
Through calm waves or sunshine hue
And listen carefully to the whispering wind
That nature is spreading like a morning dew.
poem by Seema Chowdhury
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A Butterflies Beauty
Butterfly with beautiful wings,
Glides through the summer
breeze,
As the sun shines upon the wings,
Fluttering oh so silently,
Colors of the rainbow begin to
show brightly,
Like the beautiful colors of
the flowers,
Butterflies blend in so perfect,
Making nature look pretty,
Unique patterns on every wing
has its beautiful story,
Just like nature has its own
story,
Where beauty never ends,
Butterflies will always blend in
with almost anything,
Blending in with flowers, grass,
even trees tall and small,
Including a rest on a fawns little
nose,
It is only to say hi and thank you,
for letting me rest my wings,
Now I must be on my way to enjoy
the summer breeze,
Soon it will be winter and I will
have to leave,
No worries I will return when the grass
is green and trees grow their leaves,
When rivers flow with the sunshine warmth,
Animals tall and small roam again from
slumber,
Flowers blossom beautifully,
that is how you know I will return
again,
Fluttering upon the spring and summer
breeze,
All my family will also return to fill
nature with colorful beauty.
poem by Derek James
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As It Scents The Air
In spring, the flowers grow,
in summer they bloom
with all the colours of the rainbow.
Their sweet scent fills the air
to help to disguise the pollution there.
The fumes of the traffic flow
that cauterise our sense of smell,
or rubbish rotting o a refuge tip
with the stench of wastage grip.
One day we might learn
when I do not know.
To watch and enjoy
the beauty of nature grow
as it scents the air
with its wonderful flair.
21 May 2008
poem by David Harris
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Where Has My Mother Gone?
Where has my mother gone? I haven't heard from her,
no letters and no phone calls,
When autumn winds begin to blow,
I think of her even more,
I held my mother's hands,
Warm, hard, tight, hard working hands.
On a windy night, I was scared and lonely.
My mother held me tightly, and we slept together,
More than anyone else, my mother prayed
For my complete happiness.
I saw her a year ago, sleeping so soundly.
Couldn't bear to wake her, I kissed her.
I hope you live long-----long, I want to see you again.
I stared at my mother's face,
Her face reflecting a hard, hard life,
I called mother! Mother!
There is no answer, only an echo from far away
Where has my mother gone?
Cold, Cold, Autumn winds.
poem by Fusayo Butko
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Return of a Man
Return of a man who spent his holiday
Resulted in purges and monuments of way;
The man who lunched in an Autumn
Is bringing peace in the form of food and activism.
He caught his peace and won,
Without union or priesthood or abdication.
The destroyers are some who work on it,
Then peace reasserts itself with a benefit.
Peace has come, peace has won,
We live in wait for the man who can deafen;
He described our faith as an union,
With it there is none, with us is a constitution.
poem by Naveed Akram
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