En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Digging 2

To-day I think
Only with scents, - scents dead leaves yield,
And bracken, and wild carrot's seed,
And the square mustard field;

Odours that rise
When the spade wounds the root of tree,
Rose, currant, raspberry, or goutweed,
Rhubarb or celery;

The smoke's smell, too,
Flowing from where a bonfire burns
The dead, the waste, the dangerous,
And all to sweetness turns.

It is enough
To smell, to crumble the dark earth,
While the robin sings over again
Sad songs of Autumn mirth.

poem by Edward Thomas
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One Who Rejects Christ

There's farmers and there's farmers,
There's many a field and field,
But none of the farmers round about
Can haul such harvest-wagons out
As I from an acre's yield.

There's plenty and plenty of farmers
That leave the ground by the fence,
Thinking it's nice if a patch of roses
Should scratch out the hay and tickle their noses
With nice little wild-rose scents.

I'm not like other farmers,
I make my farming pay;
I never go in for sentiment,
And seeing that roses yield no rent
I cut the stuff away.

A very good thing for farmers
If they would learn my way;
For crops are all that a good field grows,
And nothing is worse than a sniff of rose
In the good strong smell of hay.

poem by John Crowe Ransom
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Sweet Reprieve Rose

Oh the smell of the sweet reprieve rose
That was thrown on the battle field for my soul
The inevitable mortal wound waits for me on yonder hill
As the dawn breaks on the time transcribed for me
Oh the smell of the sweet reprieve rose

Oh the smell of the sweet reprieve rose
When he was first enclosed
For three dark days and three lonely nights
Until he returned unto the light
Oh the smell of the sweet reprieve rose

Oh the smell of the sweet reprieve rose
When we are first enclosed
Waiting for his trumpet to blow
And for all of his people to be called home
Oh the smell of the sweet reprieve rose

poem by Brian Kilpatrick
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That Smell

Whiskey bottles, and brand new cars
Oak tree you're in my way
There's too much coke and too much smoke
Look what's going on inside you
Ooooh that smell
Can't you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
Angel of darkness is upon you
Stuck a needle in your arm
So take another toke, have a blow for your nose
One more drink fool, will drown you
Ooooh that smell
Can't you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
Now they call you Prince Charming
Can't speak a word when you're full of 'ludes
Say you'll be all right come tomorrow
But tomorrow might not be here for you
Ooooh that smell
Can't you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
Hey, you're a fool you
Stick them needles in your arm
I know I been there before
One little problem that confronts you
Got a monkey on your back
Just one more fix, Lord might do the trick
One hell of a price for you to get your kicks
Ooooh that smell
Can't you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
Ooooh that smell
Can't you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you

song performed by by 3 Doors Down
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That Smell

(allen collins - ronnie vanzant)
Whiskey bottles, and brand new cars
Oak tree youre in my way
Theres too much coke and too much smoke
Look whats going on inside you
Ooooh that smell
Cant you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
Angel of darkness is upon you
Stuck a needle in your arm
So take another toke, have a blow for your nose
One more drink fool, will drown you
Ooooh that smell
Cant you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
Now they call you prince charming
Cant speak a word when youre full of ludes
Say youll be all right come tomorrow
But tomorrow might not be here for you
Ooooh that smell
Cant you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
Hey, youre a fool you
Stick them needles in your arm
I know I been there before
One little problem that confronts you
Got a monkey on your back
Just one more fix, lord might do the trick
One hell of a price for you to get your kicks
Ooooh that smell
Cant you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
Ooooh that smell
Cant you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you

song performed by by Lynyrd Skynyrd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Dead Leaf

between these two shores
i float like a dead leaf
am not dead either..
if i was i will not feel the pain

budded flowered and became a fruit
on one shore
eaten and as a bare stray seed laid
at the other shore

as a seed i did germinate
the mother root grew into a tree
an off spring flower and fruit came by
all along as a seed i thought i was the tree itself

I NEVER THOUGHT I WILL LOOSE
MY IDENTITY AS A SEED
CAN A TREE SHOW ITS SEED
EVEN IF IT WANTS TO

ALL ALONG...

I thought i was the tree itself
may be i was a part of each part
the stem to hold, the leaf to nourish
till fate wind blew me down as a dead leaf

today as a dead leaf i float
wanting a living from one shore
wanting relationship from the other
as a dead leaf i float..am not dead with pain

ALL ALONG....
I DID THINK I WAS THE TREE ITSELF
BEING JUST A SEED

poem by Samanyan Lakshminarayanan
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Colorful Autumn

The fountain sings, the clouds stand

In clear blueness, white, delicate;

Silent people wander thoughtfully

Down there in the evening-blue garden.

The ancestors' marble has turned grey.

A line of birds streaks into the distance

A faun with dead eyes gazes

On shadows that glide into darkness.

Leaves fall red from the old tree,

Rotate inside through the open window.

The room glows in dark fires,

In it shadows, like ghosts.

Opal smoke weaves over the grass,

A cloud of wilted, bleached scents,

In the fountain the sickle moon shines

Like a green glass in freezing air.

poem by Georg Trakl
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Sonnet: The Mustard Seed

How great a power fills a mustard seed-
A miniscule sphere, packed with silent life!
That falls in soil right, turning tree to feed
Both beasts and human beings, in much strife.

What creative mind made the mustard seed,
That rudely wakened, sprouts to mammoth tree!
With multitude of leaves verdure indeed,
And branches which nest birds, so proud and free.

God’s Kingdom too is like a mustard seed
That grows infinitesimally big with time,
And houses righteous souls that always heed
To Maker’s code regardless of earth’s clime.

The beauty of Heaven is foretold thus:
So fathomless, that none should ever miss!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 2-2-2007

poem by John Celes
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Has Your Soul Sipped?

Has your soul sipped
Of the sweetness of all sweets?
Has it well supped
But yet hungers and sweats?

I have been witness
Of a strange sweetness,
All fancy surpassing
Past all supposing.

Passing the rays
Of the rubies of morning,
Or the soft rise
Of the moon; or the meaning
Known to the rose
Of her mystery and mourning.

Sweeter than nocturnes
Of the wild nightingale
Or than love's nectar
After life's gall.

Sweeter than odours
Of living leaves,
Sweeter than ardours
Of dying loves.

Sweeter than death
And dreams hereafter
To one in dearth
Or life and its laughter.

Or the proud wound
The victor wears
Or the last end
Of all wars.

Or the sweet murder
After long guard
Unto the martyr
Smiling at God;

To me was that smile,
Faint as a wan, worn myth,
Faint and exceeding small,
On a boy's murdered mouth.

Though from his throat
The life-tide leaps
There was no threat
On his lips.

But with the bitter blood
And the death-smell
All his life's sweetness bled
Into a smile.

poem by Wilfred Owen
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Autumn Leaves

I still hearken a little deep
from the rolled out time
the last song of cuckoo
humming through the hot winds.

The scents of last spring-flower
still drift through
my dried up nasal lanes.

Today walking silently
over the crackling autumn leaves
I rue for the withered
bed of roses that once paved my way
towards a breathing heaven of verve.

The parched earth and naked trees
stand before me
like fossils
of the deceased last spring.

The desiccated bed
of my garden-pond
it seems,
has no tears to shed
at her robbed off
once brimming water wealth.

Where are those bunnies
and little squirrels that sprinted,
rollicked and rocked
over my grassy lawn?
Where's grass?
Where's lawn?
Under the searing Sun
where are smiles, glee, bliss and prank?

The dead autumn leaves
under my feet
whispered in husky, crackling tones
the secret of seasons:
"We're dead...interred we reach soon
our mother roots' bed.

We'll sprout again
as leaves tender, sleek and charming...
no death to us...
no dearth
for green-green wealth.

Every autumn is followed
by a new spring.

poem by Sathya Narayana
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Don’t be an uprooted Tree

Seed is sown and the embryo is formed
Legitimate or not, radicle develops into root
Root penetrates into the surface of the soil
Absorbs water and food, turns seed into plant
Inherits the culture of the earth beneath.
It’s in root science that, it moves in
Right direction to fetch the exact need.

Stem gives the support and balance to stand
Branches form the vitality of the plant
Leaves prepare the food to survive
Bearing even odds the plant grows into tree.
As long as deep roots embraces mother earth
The tree shows confidence and attracts.
Location and depth are the might of the tree

Flower, fruit, shade, firm soil, H2O and CO2
Vary from tree to tree, but all owe to root
Never there is an existence beyond this means.
Still human trees surrender under the pressures
Try to get uprooted from the surface and means
Hoping for better flower, fruit, soil and breeze
Truth is, an uprooted tree, a timber, put to ablaze.

-vidi-
22-04-08

poem by Vidi Writes
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The smells of Football

Football has it's own smells
from the grass on the pitch
to the aroma from the Hot Dog stalls.
In the dressing room there's sweat
strong odour coming from ointments
being rubbed into aching muscles.
On the terraces you smell beer
years ago there was tobacco too
on Boxing Day the whiff of cigar smoke.
As a boy my mothers washing powder
making my kit smell nice and fresh
and getting rid of mud and grass stains.
The smell of leather of a new pair
of football boots and new ball
and layers of thick black polish.
At the half-time break in a match
onto the field came a large tray
full of sweet smelling and tasty Oranges.
These are the smells of Football
the odours of the Beautiful game
and for some the sweet smell of success.

poem by Kevin Halls
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My Heart Sings

My heart sings.
My heart sings the songs of happiness.
My heart sings the songs of joy.
My heart sings the songs of peace.
My heart sings the songs of the Blues.
My heart sings the songs of the Gospel.
My heart sings the songs of good news.
My heart cries a melody for all to hear.
My heart sings the harmonies of love.
My heart sings a song of beauty
that comes from the Thorne Birds
just before they die.
My heart sings songs to keep me alive.
My heart sings songs for as long as it beats.
My heart sings forever.
My heart sings haluwasa.
My heart sings.

poem by Jennifer Burns
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Present Creature

My pain trapped from the past, sets a man made future - I bare no fur, i am a present creature - I see, i hear, i smell, the difference is the dead that tells - The whispers from the dark, with axe in hand, to a tree, i remove all the bark - Blood soaked sheets from a mare, the sun shines it is day - Skeletons in my closet, bones in my bed - Shadows crawl on my walls, i have a rose, but thorns in my head screaming with the dead.

poem by Unic Cjonr
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__________Autumn Leaves And A Cruel Breeze___________

Daddy pays for all the jewelry dangling from her neck,
Her beauty allows her everything she can get,
Pride stands between her and the girl she use to be,
She looks in the mirror enjoying what she sees,
A feeling of invincibility glows like a sphere,
Every girl wishes they can be her,
A dream she lives in without care,
Without foreseeing this nightmare...

Autumn leaves falling to the ground,
Cruel breezes are holding her down,
Innocence is clearly not an option on this day,
A beautiful scene turns to black and gray,
Autumn leaves crashing down,
The smell of shame lingers around...

Walking in a different way,
Head held low this feeling of prey,
Just a touch makes her feel in danger,
Whether from a friend or from a stranger,
She seems so distant so unaware,
Of the people around her and the way they stare,
Not the same no longer daddy's little girl,
Just a girl alone living in fear...

Autumn leaves falling to the ground,
Cruel breezes are holding her down,
Innocence is clearly not an option on this day,
A beautiful scene turns to black and gray,
Autumn leaves crashing down,
The smell of shame lingers around...

Twisting and turning unable to sleep,
The screaming and clawing keeps her awake,
Lonely nights dreams she couldn't keep,
Forced to the bed and mouth covered with tape,
Smell of disease she cannot escape,
Escape from the room,
Escape from the rape...

Autumn leaves falling to the ground,
Cruel breezes are holding her down,
Innocence is clearly not an option on this day,
A beautiful scene turns to black and gray,
Autumn leaves crashing down,
The smell of shame lingers around...

Just a perfect girl in a perfect world,
Blaming herself for looking so good,
A temptation lasts like a flower,
She lost it all the night he had the power...

poem by Poetic Crisis
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Under A Merciless Sun

Under a sun that burns merciless hot,
the wild wind and unrestrained weather
the farmer kneels humble before God
ploughs his fields, takes seed in both his hands
see the twirling wind from a distance,
then prays again sincerely to the Lord,
before he plants the seeds, ask for blessings
when his tractor pulls red dust from the field.

Big drops pour down for days without an end,
time and again the farmer thanks his God,
with a fresh smell coming from the wet earth
overnight all of the wild grass is green,
it’s dripping wet as far as he can see;
the farmer lives connected to God.

poem by Gert Strydom
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A Seed

See how a Seed, which Autumn flung down,
And through the Winter neglected lay,
Uncoils two little green leaves and two brown,
With tiny root taking hold on the clay
As, lifting and strengthening day by day,
It pushes red branchless, sprouts new leaves,
And cell after cell the Power in it weaves
Out of the storehouse of soil and clime,
To fashion a Tree in due course of time;
Tree with rough bark and boughs' expansion,
Where the Crow can build his mansion,
Or a Man, in some new May,
Lie under whispering leaves and say,
"Are the ills of one's life so very bad
When a Green Tree makes me deliciously glad?"
As I do now. But where shall I be
When this little Seed is a tall green Tree?

poem by William Allingham
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I Like Smells

i like smells...
woodsmoke, and food,
black coffee in the morning.
the smell of rain,
of mud, of wetness.
the smell of the walls
of the cave, of the stone,
of the moss...
the smell of sex, of arousal,
of a woman's neck.
the smell of pine needles,
of an old house,
of fresh turned earth...
the smell of old books,
of old dogs, of shadows
without form...
i've even become accustomed
to the smell of death!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Robin Redbreast

Good-bye, good-bye to Summer!
For Summer's nearly done;
The garden smiling faintly,
Cool breezes in the sun;
Our Thrushes now are silent,
Our Swallows flown away, --
But Robin's here, in coat of brown,
With ruddy breast-knot gay.
Robin, Robin Redbreast,
O Robin dear!
Robin singing sweetly
In the falling of the year.

Bright yellow, red, and orange,
The leaves come down in hosts;
The trees are Indian Princes,
But soon they'll turn to Ghosts;
The scanty pears and apples
Hang russet on the bough,
It's Autumn, Autumn, Autumn late,
'Twill soon be Winter now.
Robin, Robin Redbreast,
O Robin dear!
And welaway! my Robin,
For pinching times are near.

The fireside for the Cricket,
The wheatstack for the Mouse,
When trembling night-winds whistle
And moan all round the house;
The frosty ways like iron,
The branches plumed with snow, --
Alas! in Winter, dead and dark,
Where can poor Robin go?
Robin, Robin Redbreast,
O Robin dear!
And a crumb of bread for Robin,
His little heart to cheer.

poem by William Allingham
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Snowdrops

The Snowdrop Girl in fields of snowdrops walks,
Whiter than foam, deeper than waters flowing,
Flakes of wild milk gone blowing,
Snowing on cloudy stalks.
The Snowdrop Girl goes picking flowers of snow,
Blossoms of darkness bubbling into dreams,
In a strange country, by the shadowy streams
Where the cruel petals of the Coke-tree grow.

From the smoke and the fume of the backyard room,
Where poverty sits and gloats,
On runaway feet from a dirty street
To a field of snow she floats;
And tickets to Hell have a curious smell
And a dangerous crystal whiff,
Where men hawk Death in a snowdrops’s breath
At a couple of shillings a sniff.

poem by Kenneth Slessor
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Where Your First Rose?

Someone use to remember loved once after many years (first rose-First love) that we never forget. Looking for it again hence nothing can accomplishes first love. Time has changed every things...
____________________________________ ______________________

Where your first rose?

Where your first rose?
I know you looking for it
But you cannot find...

Where your first rose?
I know you having forget it
Somewhere that you don’t know...

Where your first rose?
Hiding some where
You cannot ever reach...

Where your first rose?
Beneath someone heart
That you don’t know the person...

Where your first rose?
That cherish for ever
You forget to rescue it...

Where your first rose?
That you need to smell it
But you didn’t...

Where your first rose?
Smell like angels perfume
You once smell...

Where your first rose?
That you looking every where
Run away from you...

Where your first rose?
That born together in every soul
But you chased away...

Where your first rose?
That gives you happiness
Forever and forever...

Where your first rose?
That you kissed it every day
When you have it...

Where your first rose?
That you still looking for it
After many years left by...

Where your first rose?
That gives you every thing
Warm, happiness and true love...

Where your first rose?
That only dedicated you
By a true angel on earth...

Where your first rose?
You will have it never
Again with jealous eyes...

Where your first rose?
That gives to you
Behalf of true love...

Where your first rose?
That’s become a disappear
After you say no...

Where your first rose?
That has an ocean deep of value
You value it forever...

Where your first rose?
Away from you now
That’s you call every day...

Where your first rose?
You call by dreams
But really cannot touch...

Where your first rose?
You call by name
But didn’t hear your voice...

Where your first rose?
Whispering with you
Every nights and days...

Where your first rose?
That sung a songs ever nights
To lullaby...

Where your first rose?
That you don’t know

where its still...

That’s with me

By
O.W.Palitha Ariyarathna
Copyright, O.W. Palitha Ariyarathna.2010
All Rights Reserved By Author: 2010

poem by Palitha Ariyarathna
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