Hop Through Life
The wind blew it there!
But hope to the end and,
Hop through life like the grasshopper.
Quizzical,
Quisling,
Jones, bones, stones, cones, tones, pones, hones, zones, ones, phones;
But, hop through life like the grasshopper.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
A Grasshopper Must Jump
offer young grasshopper
tiny roots of wisdom
to perceive her reality
grasshopper wants desires
to jump ever more boldly
from grass blade to blade
see how high I can jump
see how far I can jump
screams young grasshopper
grasshopper wants praise
grasshopper wants esteem
grasshopper wants no advice
grasshopper hears with legs
so jump blindly grasshopper
learn own leap life lessons
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Learn Own Leap Life Lessons
grasshopper hears with legs
so jump blindly grasshopper
learn own leap life lessons
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The grasshopper is dear to the grasshopper, the ant loves the ant.
Mishap
Twinkling stars belong to the mysterious sky
and a grasshopper cannot fly so high.
Star cries for the misfit
and the grasshopper collects the dew drops
along the lawn in the mist.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The Grasshopper
Grasshopper
grasshopper
all day long
we hear your scraping
summer song
like
rusty
fiddles
in
the
grass
as through
the meadow
path
we pass
such funny legs
such funny feet
and how we wonder
what you eat
maybe a single blink of dew
sipped from a clover leaf would do
then high in air
once more you spring
to fall in grass again
and sing.
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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Please do not cut the green grass!
I am the grass; I cover all.
-Carl Sandburg
'They cut the grass their children to run
And where do I play with my little ones? '
The old Grasshopper Father cries.
'Please do not cut the grass
As your children have enough parks to run,
It's a sin that Lawnmower cuts not only the grass?
Thin necks of our whole nation too! '
The old Grasshopper Mother shouts.
*To brother Premji Premji in gratitude!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Golden Boys And Golden Girls
Golden boys and golden girls,
The patience of the grasshopper is about to write;
For your love is needed than your lust,
But, you still want to go round about in the carpel tunnel!
You have to eat up your words for sustenance,
And you have to drink up my inspirations with my imaginations for life!
Because, you have to push a little further to stay on top;
And like your bed-time stories in the land of your muse,
But, this muse of love that titillates you is about to swing you up high to another level!
Relieve yourselves and stay a little longer with the nuse of the grasshopper,
For the days ahead of you are full of evil! !
And like your works of lust than love as seen around in this town;
Because, your bed-time stories are now being read by all of us!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Joy jumps heart to heart
Joy jumps heart to heart
From heart to heart
like a grasshopper.
But all I need do is but hover
over zenith green-tips of dew.
All I need do' is but dance
above His skies grey purlieu
to feel His rainbows lance
and not feel blue.
All I need do' is but touch wings
with His mirror-ball awnings
His unworldly, light!
'Then learn heaven is truly Bright.
All I need learn is to be still…
Like a grasshopper
He can but net at will…
Clasp in His palms prayer…
Our sinful souls free of sin forever.
poem by Mark Heathcote
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The poetry of the earth is never dead
True that the poetry of the earth is never dead
The grasshopper and the cricket testify that
But another great war will take place
It will a nuclear one I am sure
That will be the end of grasshopper and cricket
That will be the end of the poetry of earth
Presently with another great war
our dear earth will turn into a piece of charcoal in a moment
to dissolve in the space
Thank you Herr Einstein
Thank you Oppenheimer
Thank you Gamow
Thanks to the disinterested curiosity of science
To me the meanest flower that blows
tells me what man has made of the earth
poem by Dr. Ramesh Chandra Mukhopadhyaya
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Sticks And Stones
Sticks and stones, might break my bones
And words, shall never harm me,
I was told that story, when I was a Boy
Along with the birds and bees, I believe
So I lived my life, through that advice
That was given to me in my youth,
That sticks and stones would break my bones
And words could do no harm was true.
So I stayed away from sticks and stones
And tried never calling anyone names
But the sticks still arrived, in my life
And also the words of hate and pain.
But then I had healed from broken bones
And bruises and all the nasty cuts,
It made me stronger, then I thought longer
About the words of hate and such.
Because the words of hate, I couldn't escape
As I noticed them around everyday
Destroying ones soul, until life they'd let go
Or asking GOD for vengeance as they'd pray.
Sticks and stones had broke my bones
And words of hate had really harmed me,
As I look around, I can still hear the sound
Of hate, and belittlement, and bigotry.
There are still broken bones and nasty cuts,
As I see as I enter every day with a walk,
But doctors heal then, as they are new again
But the words of hatred never balks.
In my life I have made many choices,
And I hope with one I don't stand alone
Never to ever use any word of hate
As I don't mind getting hit with sticks or stones.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Sonnet XV. On The Grasshopper And Cricket
The poetry of earth is never dead:
When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,
And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run
From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead;
That is the Grasshopper's -- he takes the lead
In summer luxury, -- he has never done
With his delights; for when tired out with fun
He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.
The poetry of earth is ceasing never:
On a lone winter evening, when the frost
Has wrought a silence, from the stove there shrills
The Cricket's song, in warmth increasing ever,
And seems to one in drowsiness half lost,
The Grasshopper's among some grassy hills.
poem by John Keats
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On the Grasshopper and Cricket
The poetry of earth is never dead:
When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,
And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run
From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead;
That is the Grasshopper's--he takes the lead
In summer luxury,--he has never done
With his delights; for when tired out with fun
He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.
The poetry of earth is ceasing never:
On a lone winter evening, when the frost
Has wrought a silence, from the stove there shrills
The Cricket's song, in warmth increasing ever,
And seems to one in drowsiness half lost,
The Grasshopper's among some grassy hills.
poem by John Keats
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Child on the Cliffs
Mother, the root of this little yellow flower
Among the stones has the taste of quinine.
Things are strange to-day on the cliff. The sun shines so bright,
And the grasshopper works at his sewing machine
So hard. Here's one on my hand, mother, look;
I lie so still. There's one on your book.
But I have something to tell more strange. So leave
Your book to the grasshopper, mother dear, -
Like a green knight in a dazzling market-place -
And listen now. Can you hear what I hear
Far out? Now and then the foam there curls
And stretches a white arm out like a girl's.
Fishes and gulls ring no bells. There cannot be
A chapel or church between here and Devon,
With fishes or gulls ringing its bell, - hark! -
Somewhere under the sea or up in heaven.
'It's the bell, my son, out in the bay
On the buoy. It does sound sweet to-day.'
Sweeter I never heard, mother, no, not in all Wales.
I should like to be lying under that foam,
Dead, but able to hear the sound of the bell,
And certain that you would often come
And rest, listening happily.
I should be happy if that could be.
poem by Edward Thomas
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Tonight
blew, blew away
but i don't wanna fade
blew, blew, oooh
and if you love her
you know it will come true
and if you need her
you know that she'll be there
stay awake, i lie here
with her and i fall
and when i wake inside you
i know you know i'm yours
blew, blew away
but I don't wanna fade
blew, blew, oooh
and if you're sad, too
until the angel sings and touches you
don't confuse my only life
i said blew, and please don't ever leave
And i will greive, and (re)member thee
Hope to meet you there
(solo)
i wanna let her know
And i wanna let her go
i wanna let her know
That i love her so
i'm blew, blew, blew away
but I don't wanna-
blew, I love you
blew
song performed by by Smashing Pumpkins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Look What The Wind Blew In
In the dismal darkness
I have sat and gazed, amazed
At the blazing factories
Like the lonely man
Who stands on the seashore
And I am afraid
As weary as I am
I try
I seem to see that things look ok
Run, run in your skin
Look what the wind just blew in
Many lovely ladies
I have felt, touched
And I was not afraid
I took them out dancing
Out romancing
And I was not afriad
Then somewhere from the north
This gale I knew just flew in
And I am afraid
Run, run in your skin
Look what the wind just blew in
Run, run in your skin
Look what the wind just blew in
Run, you got to run in your skin
Look what the wind just blew in
Look what the wind just blew in
You got to look what the wind just blew in
You got to look what the wind just blew in
song performed by by Thin Lizzy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poem Of Hope
Life is hope.
Hope of being happy in life.
Hope of being adjusting in life.
Hope of being able to achieve achievements in life.
Hope of being cared by some-one in life.
Hope of being loved by some-one in life.
Hope of being nice to every-one in life.
Hope of being responsible to loved-one in life.
Hope of light to see in darkness.
Hope of sunshine after the rain.
Hope of help in time of troubles.
Hope of wind in time of grief.
Hope of being alive to fulfill our duties.
Hope of joy to overcome sadness.
Hope of encouragement to overcome fear.
Hope of getting hope in life is hope.
poem by Neelapu Suresh
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Hope
Hope hops like a grasshopper
That seeks to visit Greenland
Where fairies and their kins
Dance on the ruins of melancholy notes
You will find them rowing small boats
As beautiful as the petals of a yellow flower
poem by Dr. Ramesh Chandra Mukhopadhyaya
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The grasshopper which is always near its mother eats the best food.