A Drowsy Afternoon
Mellow meadows, shimmering in summers heat,
dipping down the valley,
rolling down the steep
hillside.
What a delightful and pleasurable treat,
to sit and ponder,
and wander,
your feet deep amongst the wild flowers,
where drones the sweet bees,
collecting nectar, an endless toil,
as they leap from bloom to bloom.
Then with collecting complete
return home,
bodies heavy but content.
And eyes sweep the distant scene,
through a haze of wheat.
A drowsy afternoon,
renewing memories to keep,
and maybe too,
some fresh memories to greet.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Related quotes
Life As Tree
Both
Nurtured in womb
Take time
To bloom.
Mother
Mother nature
Groom
As shape assumes
Towards independence
A leap
Blurred
With grooming memories
Adolescence
Then
An ripening age
Flowers bloom
Those buds
Which life gave
Shed their weight
Under old age
But memories remain
One with elements five
Clock never rewinds.
poem by Sanjay Mehta
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Memories
(words & music by bill strange - scott davis)
Memories, pressed between the pages of my mind
Memories, sweetened thru the ages just like wine
Quiet thought come floating down
And settle softly to the ground
Like golden autumn leaves around my feet
I touched them and they burst apart with sweet memories,
Sweet memories
Of holding hands and red bouquets
And twilight trimmed in purple haze
And laughing eyes and simple ways
And quiet nights and gentle days with you
Memories, pressed between the pages of my mind
Memories, sweetened thru the ages just like wine,
Memories, memories, sweet memories
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Delightful Sight
Buttercup and celandine,
Thrust upwards through the soil.
Tempted by the warm sunshine,
To join the bright trefoil.
These flowers of spring beneath the feet,
Are glorious blooms to view.
Their gentle faces tilt up and greet,
The dawn of each day, new.
Under the trees they're shaded,
From the summer's burning heat.
In splendour they are paraded,
To make the meadows sweet.
So frail and delicate they seem
But their strength is hidden away.
A beautiful creation so supreme,
They hold you in their sway.
How these small plants lift spirits high,
They are a delightful sight.
A pleasure sent to charm the eye,
And such memories to invite.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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The Bees And The Flowers
the flowers bloom
and then wilt
nothing happens
in between
the bees fly
and hover in between
the flowers that bloom
and wilt
again there is no word
because nothing really
happens in between
the flowers bloom
& the bees fly away
to the other flowers that bloom
that wilt
and nothing ever happens in between
the flowers and the bees
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Learning from the honey bee
Look at the bees
And learn something
They yearn for others
as busy bees
Together in swarms they fly along
To find gardens together they throng
From flower to flower
From nectar to nectar
Serving their queen bee with compassion
Caring for their young ones in devotion
They toil and toil
From flower to seed
To gather honey honey so sweet
Just to serve just to yearn
A tiny insect makes us learn
Its God Command to serve and earn
Give good to others
And get so in return
Be like the bees to find the truth
Of being happy and to find God's love
Be like a bee and be like the bees
Being for others and nothing above
poem by Rehanayakoob Yakoob
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September Afternoon
How lovely was that autumn day,
That late September afternoon
When the sun was high in a cloudless sky,
In an ocean of heavenly blue,
Just a gentle breeze to stir the leaves
Of the garden trees, while the hum of bees
Was soothing to those who lazily dozed
In the shimmering heat that made you believe
It was really July, and only the apples
That lay on the lawn made you remember
It was now September. The mallow flowers
Were still in bloom, and butterflies
Like handkerchiefs around them fluttered
Then flew across to the buddleia bush
With its bountiful nectar-rich blossom
And now and again a quarrel broke out
When the garden sparrows chirruped and chirped
And feathers flew, but it didn’t last
For peace like a blanket floated down
While overhead the swallows swooped
And turned and wheeled in graceful flight.
Such light and warmth and teeming life
Uplifts your heart, makes your spirits sing
So glad to be a child again
At home in the bosom of good Mother Earth.
poem by Pete Crowther
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Boot Sales
In the summer,
boot sales at weekends
are a common sight.
Selling things
no longer required
within someone’s life.
When you stop at one
you gaze over each, stall
hoping to find treasures
to add to your collection at home.
The problem with collecting
when do you say no?
Never I’m afraid,
for everything, you collect
gain a few more memories
and those memories are yours.
poem by David Harris
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She Is Everything
She Is Everything
Written by: Wilfred Mellers, Sunday, April 10,2011, @ 11: 23 AM
With a voice sounding so sweet
She said please come, have a seat
She so slender, tender, and petite
Her looks no other can compete
When I come home her beautiful smile always greets
Wonders and merriment's given under the sheets
A gift from god for she is an absolute treat
My love she will never ever deplete
She keeps herself so really neat
Her personality always bright and upbeat
Always the lady when she’s on the street
Even though she always brings the heat
Modest, humble, and continuously discreet
She moves and grooves to her own beat
She makes me run as if I am an athlete
Over hot coal for her I’d walk bare feet
A tasty pastry so delightful and ready to eat
Wholesome reminiscent of whole-wheat
Never she full of conceit
What we have is truly concrete
She’s now my very heartbeat
Preordained for we were distant to meet
My vow to her to never mistreat
She has made my life so complete
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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The Blackbird's Song
The blackbird's song it takes me far away
To northern Land and to a distant day
His kin birds sang all day until sundown
In leafy groves just out of Millstreet Town.
A blackbird piping on a blackwood tree
Awake the nostalgic memories in me
Again I walk the lush green fields in Spring
And hear the wild birds on the hedgerows sing.
Bluebells bloom by the hedge by the bohreen
And cock pheasant often heard though seldom seen
In the knee high rushes clap his wings and crow
By their calls and songs the birds you get to know.
The distance from the home fields may be long
But whenever the migrant hear the blackbird's song
He or she will see the lushness brought by rain
And walk through fields where wild flowers bloom again.
To it the blackbird's song has a nostalgic ring
It takes the migrant to a distant Spring
And though far distant the Homeland near 'twould seem
And the dipper's song is echoing in the stream.
I thought this thing nostalgia I'd outgrown
But the blackbird's song it carries me back home
And I walk the high fields where I walked before
Up to the hill through the wood at Claramore
poem by Francis Duggan
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At Crown Hill
Leave him here in the fresh
greening grasses and trees
And the symbols of love, and the solace of these-
The saintly white lilies and blossoms he keeps
In endless caress as
he breathlessly sleeps.
The tears of our eyes wrong the scene of his rest,
For the sky's at its clearest-the sun's at its best-
The earth at its greenest- its wild bud and bloom
At its sweetest-and sweetest its honey'd perfume.
Home! Home!-Leave him here in his lordly estate,
And with never a tear as we turn from the gate!
Turn back to the home that will know him no more,-
The vines at the window-the sun through the door,-
Nor sound of his voice, nor the light of his face!...
But the birds will sing on, and the rose, in his place,
Will tenderly smile til we daringly feign
He is home with us still, though the tremulous rain
Of our tears reappear, and again all is bloom,
And all prayerless we sob in the long-darkened room.
Heaven portions it thus-the old mystery dim,-
It is midnight to us-it is morning to him
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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It's haze, hard haze...
It's haze, hard haze,
As a veil as a shroud...
And there, in two steps,
It is war behind the haze.
And the battles go on,
But we can't take part in them,
We're absolutly chained by haze to earth now -
We are the air workers of the war.
It's haze, hard haze
On past events, on life.
And so far, in distant land
There is our house fine.
And in front dugout hut
We are dreaming of the child,
That we were in past, but now we to adults grown -
We are the air workers of the war.
It's haze, grey haze...
It will come and again.
And so far in distant land
There is love behind the haze.
And the brides will wait for long,
When we could from war return,
And, alas, not all will then return to home...
We are the air workers of the war...
song, music by A. Kolker, lyrics by K. Ryzhov, translated by Lyudmila Purgina
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Sweet Stay-at-Home
Sweet Stay-at-Home, sweet Well-content,
Thou knowest of no strange continent;
Thou hast not felt thy bosom keep
A gentle motion with the deep;
Thou hast not sailed in Indian seas,
Where scent comes forth in every breeze.
Thou hast not seen the rich grape grow
For miles, as far as eyes can go:
Thou hast not seen a summer's night
When maids could sew by a worm's light;
Nor the North Sea in spring send out
Bright hues that like birds flit about
In solid cages of white ice --
Sweet Stay-at-Home, sweet Love-one-place,
Thou hast not seen black fingers pick
White cotton when the bloom is thick,
Nor heard black throats in harmony;
Nor hast thou sat on stones that lie
Flat on the earth, that once did rise
To hide proud kings from common eyes.
Thou hast not seen plains full of bloom
Where green things had such little room
They pleased the eye like fairer flowers --
Sweet Stay-at-Home, all these long hours.
Sweet Well-content, sweet Love-one-place,
Sweet, simple maid, bless thy dear face;
For thou hast made more homely stuff
Nurture thy gentle self enough;
I love thee for a heart that's kind --
Not for the knowledge in thy mind.
poem by William Henry Davies
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Gentle Annie
Thou wilt come no more, gentle Annie,
Like a flower thy spirit did depart;
Thou art gone, alas! like the many
That have bloomed in the summer of my heart.
Chorus
Shall we nevermore behold thee;
Never hear thy winning voice again --
When the Springtime comes, gentle Annie,
When the wild flowers are scattered o'er the plain?
We have roamed and loved mid the bowers
When thy downy cheeks were in their bloom;
Now I stand alone mid the flowers
While they mingle their perfumes o'er thy tomb.
Chorus
Ah! the hours grow sad while I ponder
Near the silent spot where thou art laid,
And my heart bows down when I wander
By the streams and the meadows where we strayed.
Chorus
poem by Stephen C. Foster
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Memories
Memories of good times
Memories of bad times
Memories of our love
So many memories
Memories of us crying
Memories of us laughing
Memories of our commitment
So many memories
Memories of us hugging
Memories of us kissing
Memories of those late nights
So many memories
Memories of how we met
Memories of how you left
Memories of what you said
So many memories
Why did you leave me
with so many memories
Did you ever realize
that my memories are yours
Everything we did together
stays within our memories
I remember getting hurt
Do you hurt too
Let's make a new memory
that we can both share
Let's love again
in our memories
poem by Adam McKim
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Poem Song
I like to call you my wild horse
(and feed you silver sage ? )
Id like to paint my poems with
Desert tongued clay across her back
And ride you savagely as the sweet and southern wind
Through green and wild kentucky
Id like to make you my secret song
Blaze and dark and red in the orchards
And I would steal away to watch the way
Your silver belly bends and bows beneath me
Id make you my wings in the foothills of montana
My lover in the oceans of the world
Id make you... of children
And I would scatter you across my green memories of home
Id make you my hungry valley
And sow your golden fields and wheats my own
If I were a painter
I would paint you with this note
Silver traces on your skin
And if I were a writer
I would write these words on your back
In desert tongue clay, deep in (your wind? )
Id make you my secret song
Blazing in the orchard
And I would steal away
To watch the way your silver belly
Bends and bows beneath me
Id make you my wings in the foothills of montana
Make you my lover in the oceans of the world
Id make you my calico children
And I would scatter you across my green memories of home
Id be your hungry valley
And Id sow your golden fields of wheat my own
If I were a writer
I would make you my wild horse
Id paint you silver sage and
Ride you savagely through green wild country
(? ? ? ) swedish verses
And you are the rose on my alter
I worship you eternally in flight
Like the wave ?
Ill dip you in these praises like cobwebs
And watch them....?
For your hair is the rain
And it soaks across the continents of my skin
These hands that worship you so completely
You see this woman standing before you
Naked and seared, true of intent,
I dont need you
I want you near
For you are my love
You are my flower of the sun
You are my lover for all time
You wake in the morning
For your sun(flowers? )
You wake in the morning
With your kiss
Ill be your hungry valley
And sow your golden fields of wheat...?
And you are the rose on my alter
I worship you eternally in flight
Like the wave ?
You be my calico children
Ill scatter you across my green memories of home
song performed by by Jewel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bloom
Did flowers bloom when you were born?
Did love learn to hang itself upon your mirrored face?
I remember when
You stood so tall in Heaven
In the hallways and out in the great wide open
But now you live in the shadows
You creep
Did you hear the trumpet call
Or was the pied piper too strong
in your ear?
Did he make you fall?
Did he make you crawl?
And by gutter or alleyway
Did you leave the same as you came?
And did you get to keep God's grace
If you promised…
You did promise
To return,
Didn't you?
God bless you in the morning
God bless you all afternoon
God bless you in the evening
And at night time too
Now it's time to lay you down
you need your sleep
And when you awake, you should pray
Pray to God that it's your soul He takes
I pray to God that He takes your soul
Did flowers bloom when you were born?
Did flowers bloom
In all the workings of their hands
Did they take from you the grace of Heaven
Did they strip that from you too?
In your grand escape
In your one mistake
Wherever you are
Do flowers still bloom by you?
poem by God Diaries
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Golden Wheat
Remember me when the South wind blow
Golden wheat, where the waves dance in row
Forget the emptiness and cold
Embrace love and the memories you hold
Remember me solemnly gazing for doe
Golden wheat, where waves dance in row
Entwined together on the greens we rolled
Embrace love and the memories you hold
Will you stay with me, as old we grow
Golden wheat, where the wave dance in row
Together we'll erase the world's toll
Embrace love and the memories you hold
South wind lover always know
Golden wheat, where waves dance in row
Bodies come together as if made in a mold
Embrace love and the memories you hold
My pledge to you from Heaven and below
Golden wheat, where waves dance in row
With my last breath our love will still unfold
Embrace love and the memories you hold
When we're gone I hope our descendants know
Golden Wheat, where waves dance in row
Feel the south wind, be it warm or cold
Embrace love and the memories you hold
poem by Rhonda Baker
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Rebirth Of Spring
Fresh cut grass
The deep growl of a Harley
Memories of springs past
Jammin' to Bob Marley
The soul of Gaia stands
After the death of cold winter
Love and flowers bloom
After their funeral in November
The Rebirth of the seasons
The morning of the year
The cycle begins anew
Spring is here.
poem by Caleb Hall
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Good Memories Remain With Me
Good memories remain with me and good memories never die
Of Summer days on uncle Dan's and aunty Mary's farm in green old Lisnaboy
Above the rushy meadow the lark carolled in the sky
And the new mown hay it scented sweetly in the sunshine of July.
The wild brown bees were gathering nectar on the flowers by the hedgerow
And above the sunlit meadows the swallows flew to and fro
And butterflies of many hues flitted around the wildflowers
Their life is brief when compared to ours they are old in forty hours.
The childhood years they went too fast the time just seemed to fly
But our happy memories of the past we reflect on and enjoy
Cock robin with the rich red breast sang on the willow tree
The robin king of his small World his hard won territory.
With my Uncle Dan and Aunty Mary I tossed the hay to dry
In the mid fifties in July in green old Lisnaboy
In old Duhallow north of here and thousands of miles away
But the boy back then now getting old and showing his years in gray.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Fresh Flower Blue
It's a fresh flower blue.
I wrap it in a sheet.
I love its scent, it's hues.
It sips the mist, the dew
and leaves an odor, treat
It's a fresh flower blue.
Its pets, the bees and crew
they meet, they greet, they eat.
I love its scent, its hues.
From dawn to dusk they woo
and bask in rain or heat.
It's a fresh flower blue.
There's a flower for you
There's one for me. A treat!
I love its scent, its hues.
The day I say adieu
I send you one so sweet.
It's a fresh flower blue
I love its scent, its hue.
poem by Agatha Lai
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