Presentiment is that long shadow on the lawn
Presentiment is that long shadow on the lawn
Indicative that suns go down;
The notice to the startled grass
That darkness is about to pass.
poem by Emily Dickinson
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The Dumb Soldier
When the grass was closely mown,
Walking on the lawn alone,
In the turf a hole I found
And hid a soldier underground.
Spring and daisies came apace;
Grasses hid my hiding-place;
Grasses run like a green sea
O'er the lawn up to my knee.
Under grass alone he lies,
Looking up with leaden eyes,
Scarlet coat and pointed gun,
To the stars and to the sun.
When the grass is ripe like grain,
When the scythe is stoned again,
When the lawn is shaven clear,
Then my hole shall reappear.
I shall find him, never fear,
I shall find my grenadier;
But, for all that's gone and come,
I shall find my soldier dumb.
He has lived, a little thing,
In the grassy woods of spring;
Done, if he could tell me true,
Just as I should like to do.
He has seen the starry hours
And the springing of the flowers;
And the fairy things that pass
In the forests of the grass.
In the silence he has heard
Talking bee and ladybird,
And the butterfly has flown
O'er him as he lay alone.
Not a word will he disclose,
Not a word of all he knows.
I must lay him on the shelf,
And make up the tale myself.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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The Secret Pond
you know the way to the secret pond of my heart
meet me there
and stay there for a while
do you not notice the wild grass growing there?
think of me as the unintended
think of me as the wanton beauty of the grass
that plans nothing to spread anywhere
think of me as a free vine
bringing soon a flower to you lips
do you notice the grey stones blunt and the pebbles black?
think of me as a certain hardness uncracked by the pain
of infidelities, think of me as pebbles that you through
after some sweet confidences after some utility
think of me as a stone that may kill a mocking bird
do you notice the stagnant waters there?
still, and quiet, and not flowing
it is what my love is all about, no noise, no words, no transfering
from one brook to another
do you notice my absence? be patient, wait for a while.
soon i may come but like a cloud above that secret pond
i may just be a drifter, a passer by, a vagabond, a wisp of air, a hush
a ghost, a phantom, an image, a shadow, a mirage.
yes, it will still be sad and lonely.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Mowing
There was not a sound
but that of the machine
that howl against the sky
and magically sheared the grass
from where it grew.
No bushes of grass, or even weeds
could keep its length
when that yellow long necked
Weedeater appeared.
Grass, weeds and stems
were scattered everywhere
and underneath, with the smell
of mown grass in the air
a beautiful lawn appeared.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Be with your people
Grass is a weed among corns.
They themselves, it is a lawn.
Grass! Be in the lawn.
In the field, you’re a weed
29.05.2001, Berhampur
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Darkness
Gene pitney
Darkness, only darkness
Land of shadow
Thats where my heart goes
Now Im alone, Im on my own
Voices, I hear voices
Sounds in the still night everywhere
But youre not there
No, youre not there
Imagination brings you so near
I reach for your lips, but theyre not here
All of my memories are closing in as one
I walk a little faster, than I start to run
Darkness, only darkness
Land of shadow
Thats where my heart goes
Now Im alone, Im on my own
I long to hold you, thrill to your charm
But how can I hold shadows in my arms?
I reach to find you, stumbling through the night
Searching in my sadness, looking for the light
But theres darkness, only darkness
Land of shadow
Thats where my heart goes
Now Im alone, Im on my own
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Snake In The Grass
Mr. Rao was sitting in his front lawn
He looked dull and worried
'I haven't mowed for a month'
He said looking at the wild growth
The lawn with its grass blades
Some tall, some short looked to me
Beautiful in its randomness
'There is some odd grace
Even in indiscipline' I remarked
'There is a method in their madness'
I laughed and winked at him
He stared one long minute
At his beloved lawn and said
'Ever heard the idiom'
'….Snake in the grass! It was said
About the lurking dangers inside
Such unruly growth! Thanks
To the indolent masters'
He further cautioned, 'Walk over that ridge
Alongside the compound wall
And reach the verandah. God Knows!
Some serpent might have got alert
With our idiomatic talk,
I mean idiotic talk'
This time he laughed loudly
Starting towards him, I stopped suddenly
And turned back stating, 'I just remembered
I have to go to my office, I left a lot
To be mowed there. For too long
Indolent I have been'
poem by Sathya Narayana
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September Grass
Well, the suns not so hot in the sky today
And you know I can see summertime slipping on away
A few more geese are gone, a few more leaves turning red
But the grass is as soft as a feather in a featherbed
So Ill be king and youll be queen
Our kingdoms gonna be this little patch of green
Wont you lie down here right now
In this september grass
Wont you lie down with me now
September grass
Oh the memory is like the sweetest pain
Yeah, I kissed the girl at a football game
I can still smell the sweat and the grass stains
We walked home together. I was never the same.
But that was a long time ago
And where is she now? I dont know
Wont you lie down here right now
In this september grass
Wont you lie down with me now
September grass
Oh, september grass is the sweetest kind
It goes down easy like apple wine
Hope you dont mind if I pour you some
Made that much sweeter by the winter to come
Do you see those ants dancing on a blade of grass?
Do you know what I know? thats you and me, baby
Were so small and the worlds so vast
We found each other down in the grass
Wont you lie down with me right here
September grass
Wont you lie down with me now
In this september grass
Lie down
Lie down
Lie down
Lie down
(repeat)
Wont you lie down here right now
In this september grass
Wont you lie down here now
In this september grass
song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shadow
From darkness I came,
I was short but
My shadow was long,
Sun crowned me,
I was the weakest
King of the world,
My dream was east to west/
Slowly shadow shrunk,
At noon it touched my foot,
Or I must say hid under at low,
Sun shone brightly over head/
Sun slid and shadow peeped,
Elongated up to the darkness,
From where I came,
My crown lost like a ghost,
And no more seen//
O! My desire, my hope, my life
Tell me; please tell me, ‘O' My dream!
"What relation do you have with Shadow? "
poem by Aftab Alam Khursheed
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In The Shadow Of Doubt...
when you meet at some
crossroads
you are familiar with
what i carry
just a shadow
a shadow of doubt
a mimicry of what i am
a cry of the silent
darkness that is dependent
upon a little light
the moon long understands this
it is compassionate
and we talk
on the grass on the pond
in the eeriness of air
in the blankness of space
when we meet again
in the light
as you prefer it to be
i carry nothing
i am no longer myself
no matter how you try to be
if you love me
let me just be a shadow without a body
that you want to touch
and believe
you must believe in the doubt
that i am
you must hope for nothing
you must shed off faith
you only have to utter a word
that must exist beyond the journey of time
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Grass stands tall! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
How do raindrops balance on grass blades?
It seemed like stars had descended on glade.
Startled, I watched standing by a lamppost.
Undeterred by clouds, and earth played host.
Overnight the grass had gained inches in height.
I sat and looked despite mosquito bites.
You would have said if you were by my side,
They have tears of joy glistening in eyes.
Does grass have feelings, eyes and ears?
Could it be… music of rain it can hear?
Raindrops, tears or stars… whatever you name,
All I know is we have talked and shared.
For on that moonless, still, cloudy night,
I simply forgot whatever was on my mind.
I bent down, and am sure heard it whisper,
Oh yes, I have no doubt grass can speak and hear.
When I woke up after a fitful, disturbed night,
And wandered out, I was aghast at the sight.
Grass was quiet yet dignified; it had been run over.
By a merciless, noisy and rusty lawn mower.
The stubble reminded of an unshaven face.
, Stoic, no trace of grief or need for solace.
A couple of days later gardener stood exasperated.
Grass laughed and stood tall, wet and animated.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Eride, V
Now in the palace gardens warm with age,
On lawn and flower-bed this afternoon
The thin November-coloured foliage
Just as last year unfastens lilting down,
And round the terrace in gray attitude
The very statues are becoming sere
With long presentiment of solitude.
Most of the life that I have lived is here,
Here by the path and autumn's earthy grass
And chestnuts standing down the breadths of sky
Indeed I know not how it came to pass,
The life I lived here so unhappily.
Yet blessing over all! I do not care
What wormwood I have ate to cups of gall;
I care not what despairs are buried there
Under the ground, no, I care not at all.
Nay, if the heart have beaten, let it break!
I have not loved and lived but only this
Betwixt my birth and grave. Dear Spirit, take
The gratitude that pains, so deep it is.
When Spring shall be again, and at your door
You stand to feel the mellow evening wind.
Remember if you will my heart is pure,
Perfectly pure and altogether kind;
That not an aftercry of all our strife
Troubles the love I give you and the faith:
Say to yourself that at the ends of life
My arms are open to you, life and death.
How much it aches to linger in these things!
I thought the perfect end of love was peace
Over the long-forgiven sufferings.
But something else, I know not what it is,
The words that came so nearly and then not,
The vanity, the error of the whole,
The strong cross-purpose, oh, I know not what
Cries dreadfully in the distracted soul.
The evening fills the garden, hardly red;
And autumn goes away, like one alone.
Would I were with the leaves that thread by thread
Soften to soil, I would that I were one.
poem by Trumbull Stickney from Dramatic Verses (1902)
Submitted by anonym
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His Shadow
When I was young
the shadow he cast was long.
When I was afraid.
In his shadow I could be brave.
Walking together
watching his shadow by mine.
I yearned for the time
like his my shadow would be long.
As the fledgling finally
flies alone from the nest.
To step away from his shadow
my time came.
One day long after
my child at my side.
Two shadows I saw.
One long joined one small.
In my thoughts
I reflected to when
the longer shadow.
My father cast.
I realized
the time had come.
The father's shadow
now my shadow.
(04SEP97)
poem by Kurt Hearth
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I'm sorry, I didn't notice
I'm sorry, I didn't notice
When this started to happen
I'm sorry, I didn't notice
I just let it begin
I'm sorry, I didn't notice
The change in anythin'
I'm sorry, I didn't notice
When we stopped talkin'
I'm sorry, I didn't notice
We weren't letting each other in
I'm sorry, I didn't notice
That sad, sad trend
I'm sorry, I didn't notice
The beginning of the end
I'm sorry, I didn't notice
You were no longer my friend
But believe me, now I notice
And it hurts deep within
Now that I notice
I hope you'll be again
poem by Dylan Burkhart
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I've Come to Notice More Now
I've come to notice more now,
The falling snow.
I've come to notice more now,
A certain purpose...
I had disavowed.
I've come to notice more now,
The core of my being with more meaning.
A joy I can express...
With less emphasis on things collected.
And a happiness I always had,
But somehow did not allow.
I've come to notice more now,
I can.
I've come to notice more now,
I will!
I've come to notice more now,
My needs are basically fulfilled.
Without desire to seek approval,
Sought to identify my peace of mind!
I've come to notice more now,
Thoughts like that I have left behind.
And notice, I do...
My blessings!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Untitled: Figure which has long dwelt in the coolness of sinister stone
Figure which has long dwelt in the coolness of sinister stone
Opens the pale mouth sounding
Round owl's eyes - sounding gold.
Those found the cave of the forest decayed and empty
The shadow of a doe in the rotten branches
At the border of the spring the darkness of his childhood.
Long at the forest border a bird sings your decline
The anxious showers of your brown coat;
The shadow of the owl appears in the rotten branches.
Long at the forest border a bird sings your decline
The anxious showers of your blue coat
The shadow of the mother appears in the spiky grass.
Long at the forest border a bird sings your decline
The anxious showers of your black coat
The shadow of the black horse appears in the mirror of the spring.
poem by Georg Trakl
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Long neck is beautiful.
Long neck is beautiful.
It is indicative
Of long limbs, long fingers,
Long nose, long chin,
Long waist, long loins
Long shins and long toes.
Altogether tall is beautiful.
The best way to show
The neck longer than it is
Is tug up the hair on head
So as to bare the nape.
25.06.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Startled Are Those Robbers
Startled are those robbers,
That had came to thieve.
Quite startled are those robbers stunned,
Begging for a forgiveness on bended knees.
And the hiding places,
Where startled robbers had once hid...
Are blocked to stop an entry,
With cracks and crevices from them now sealed.
Startled are those robbers...
Finding no one wants to bother.
No one wants to bother with robbers...
Chased away and startled by the mobs.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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In The Meadows At Mantua
But to have lain upon the grass
One perfect day, one perfect hour,
Beholding all things mortal pass
Into the quiet of green grass;
But to have lain and loved the sun,
Under the shadow of the trees,
To have been found in unison,
Once only, with the blessed sun;
Ah! in these flaring London nights,
Where midnight withers into morn,
How quiet a rebuke it writes
Across the sky of London nights!
Upon the grass at Mantua
These London nights were all forgot.
They wake for me again: but ah,
The meadow-grass at Mantua!
poem by Arthur Symons
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Hope
an angel a bridge
of heart
Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness
Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness
Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness
Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness
Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness
a light
of humanity tree
October
Ay, thou art welcome, heaven's delicious breath!
When woods begin to wear the crimson leaf,
And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief
And the year smiles as it draws near its death.
Wind of the sunny south! oh, still delay
In the gay woods and in the golden air,
Like to a good old age released from care,
Journeying, in long serenity, away.
In such a bright, late quiet, would that I
Might wear out life like thee, 'mid bowers and brooks
And dearer yet, the sunshine of kind looks,
And music of kind voices ever nigh;
And when my last sand twinkled in the glass,
Pass silently from men, as thou dost pass.
poem by William Cullen Bryant
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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