A single Clover Plank
A single Clover Plank
Was all that saved a Bee
A Bee I personally knew
From sinking in the sky —
'Twixt Firmament above
And Firmament below
The Billows of Circumference
Were sweeping him away —
The idly swaying Plank
Responsible to nought
A sudden Freight of Wind assumed
And Bumble Bee was not —
This harrowing event
Transpiring in the Grass
Did not so much as wring from him
A wandering "Alas" —
poem by Emily Dickinson
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Related quotes
I stepped from plank to plank
I stepped from plank to plank
So slow and cautiously;
The stars about my head I felt,
About my feet the sea.
I knew not but the next
Would be my final inch,--
This gave me that precarious gait
Some call experience.
poem by Emily Dickinson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There Shall Be No Blank Space Of This Jalousy
she broke a piece
of the window, a plank of glass
and the cat gets in at night
and sleeps on my favorite sofa
i never like this
i don't like a blank space where a cat slips in
and takes a portion of my sofa
this is strictly prohibited in my world
today the plank of glass is delivered
and there is no emptiness left along the lines of this
space
where the wind is free to
to get in and then move out like nothing happened
between the cat and the sofa.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Democratic party of Florida has put a temperance plank in its platform and the Republican party of every state would nail that plank in their platform if they thought it would carry the election.
quote by Billy Sunday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thanks Be To Him
To Him, who I have not seen,
But whose words I have heard,
And touch I have felt,
A heart full of thanks.
I stood amidst the ocean,
With heavy wind and violent waves.
There came His voice,
And then His touch,
Like a plank of wood,
To a sinking man.
A simple word of thanks,
Is not all enough,
But now take this,
Thanks a lot, Thank you.
poem by Santhosh Vijayakumar
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Whose Dream Is This Anyway?
Every day I walk the plank of this pirate ship
and hear voices saying
'Just keep going, take the risk.'
Risk? There is no risk on ships
with planks out over the sea.
What you have there is death and certainty.
'Other voices say, 'What are you doing?
Come back off that plank! '
I say 'Sure.
If I do, the pirates will simply
take their swords and run me through;
saber-death or drown in the sea
look to be the choices for me.
except:
I could get to the edge of the plank
open my wings and soar
leaving them all behind in astonishment.
Yeah, that's what I can do.
Now that is the beauty of a dream-
if you know what you are doing-
you can take control of your own dreams
and make things happen in the real world
by doing so.
So if the monster chases you in your dream
turn right around and face the monster
and say
'Whose dream is this anyway? '
Poof the monster is gone.
Try it some time
you'll see.
It's your dream
isn't it?
Pop some monster;
you feel better for it.
and it just might change your waking life too.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Saccade
I am, from plank to plank,
each planck time, planck length link.
A trillion, trillion, trillion pass
before, therefore I think.
I wend a wilful way,
response to causal sway,
a world line traced by agency
and surface interplay.
I view a fractioned frieze,
a latticework of chinks,
like luminescent plankton seas,
with bright poetic winks.
poem by Diane Hine
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Scythe Song
MOWERS, weary and brown, and blithe,
What is the word methinks ye know,
Endless over-word that the Scythe
Sings to the blades of the grass below?
Scythes that swing in the grass and clover,
Something, still, they say as they pass;
What is the word that, over and over,
Sings the Scythe to the flowers and grass?
Hush, ah hush, the Scythes are saying,
Hush, and heed not, and fall asleep;
Hush, they say to the grasses swaying;
Hush, they sing to the clover deep!
Hush—’t is the lullaby Time is singing—
Hush, and heed not, for all things pass;
Hush, ah hush! and the Scythes are swinging
Over the clover, over the grass!
poem by Andrew Lang
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Weep Holes
Don't take us for the wall itself
For when the earthen plank behind the wall
Gets soaked through
We'll let the sorrow of burdonsome wetness
Flow through us
The soil sucks the trees' roots till now
Till now the sorrow of waters
hasn't reached the earthen plank behind the walls
Earth has not seen the woebegone face of the sky
The wall hasn't learnt to shed tears
Wind even now expects to blow the leaves away
Empty polythene bags sputter on roads
That never had trees planted on sides
People drink blood of their own climes
And grow like germs
Bonfire conflagrations ignite every where
Smoke has turned the flowers black
Butterflies' wings look ashen
The dream's face will bend under pressure
And break into smithereens
Let the moisture come!
Let the clouds of pains burst!
Let the sky's sorrow descend to the earth!
Don't consider us the wall itself
Don't think we're but worthless
For when the earthen plank behind the wall
Gets soaked
We'll be there to let the sorrow
Of burdensome wetness
flow through us
Look! Our eyes do not have tears
But the mud of our dreams.
(Translated by Dr. Satyapal Anand)
poem by Naseer Ahmed Nasir
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Ah, Moon—and Star!
240
Ah, Moon—and Star!
You are very far—
But were no one
Farther than you—
Do you think I'd stop
For a Firmament—
Or a Cubit—or so?
I could borrow a Bonnet
Of the Lark—
And a Chamois' Silver Boot—
And a stirrup of an Antelope—
And be with you—Tonight!
But, Moon, and Star,
Though you're very far—
There is one—farther than you—
He—is more than a firmament—from Me—
So I can never go!
poem by Emily Dickinson
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The Southern Equinox
The roof is leaning a bit
While the eaves are listening close
It's a mighty wind come to call
Swirling and whirling
Flower blossom are curling
Me thinks, it's the calling card of Fall;
August so snug in it's comforter of warmth
Holding, holding on, ever so tight
Keeping September at bay with her sizzle
Promising not to give up her fight;
Alas, Summer's last hurah is about to be
As claimed by this mighty wind's way
Around the corner in latter September days
Autumn will arrive, crisp and ready to play;
Gone will be the green grass and comforting warmth
And the blue skies endless bend
Sunshine will give way to a Firmament of Grey
Hence, Summer will surely come to her end!
poem by Theodora Onken
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Poverty Grass
Wild horses we
Pricked at the wind,
Never to know, alas;
That all the lord of our fortunes bought
For us
Was poverty grass.
Poverty grass
The paupered seed
So sickly poor, alas;
The souls of the great untamed grow weak
Despair
On poverty grass.
And you, my friend,
Grew sick awhile,
And cried and cried, alas;
While I grew fat on a flowering weed
Called pride
And poverty grass.
And when you left
The field to me
I almost died, alas;
For I was left in a fallow field
Piled high
In poverty grass.
Wild horses we
Pricked at the wind,
Never to know, alas;
That all the lord of our fortunes bought
For us
Was poverty grass.
24 January 1980
poem by David Lewis Paget
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flame-hued firmament
wild geese flying in v shape
fleeting autumn wind
haiku by Alice Cuenca
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Luck
I sought a four-leaved clover,—
The grass was gemmed with dew,—
I searched the meadow over
To find a four-leaved clover;
I was a lucky rover,—
You sought the charm-grass, too,
And seeking luck and clover
I found it—finding you.
poem by Abbie Farwell Brown from The New England Magazine / Volume 15, Issue 3 (1893)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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I'm as thick as a plank.
quote by Princess Diana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Where there is no bridge the smallest plank is of great value.
He who buys a house gets many a plank and nail for nothing.
Except to Heaven, she is nought
154
Except to Heaven, she is nought.
Except for Angels—lone.
Except to some wide-wandering Bee
A flower superfluous blown.
Except for winds—provincial.
Except by Butterflies
Unnoticed as a single dew
That on the Acre lies.
The smallest Housewife in the grass,
Yet take her from the Lawn
And somebody has lost the face
That made Existence—Home!
poem by Emily Dickinson
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It's difficult to build a boat plank against the wave.