A Lifting Of My Heart
I stepped over the rickety wooden stile,
and entered a meadow of sweetness.
Clover, daisies and buttercups
all intermingled in a silent chorus of song.
Insects buzzed in the warming sun,
and the country air
filled my lungs
with a sharp freshness.
Looking into the distance,
I watched, as a flock of birds
took to the air,
swooping across the sky,
calling joyously
in their freedom.
The World had stopped to give me
one afternoon
of sheer exhilaration.
I ran through the flowers,
I waved to the birds,
and felt a lifting of my heart.
This was paradise,
even if just for a short time,
but a time in which to refresh and energize
my body and spirit.
A time also
to renew my awareness
of the beauty of nature,
and its wonderful panorama,
displayed in all its serenity.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Related quotes
Commingle of seasons and love
As i ventured back to love,
A new dawn and a whole new world through my eyes seen,
I felt the tranquil beauty of nature,
I 'am in love again,
Nature seems to show likeness,
The passerine birds sings in joy,
Daffodils and lilies bloomers, dazzled and waved,
The sun shone her warmth on me,
Its spring time,
I ventured to explore the beauty of nature,
The sun rosed up and fell again,
The birds sang and was silent,
The world sleeps,
The stars displayed glitterness,
The winds blew strong and disappeared,
The moon's always wane,
The greeness tends to fade,
The leaves feel off the trees,
I ventured through all these in love with her and nature,
Everywhere i look around is white,
The sun's shinning weak,
Its all white and cold in here,
Spring's gone, summer's gone, autumn's gone,
Winter is here to stay,
Silence, quietness and a gentle breeze,
In the cold light of the day i am,
The ponds freezes and solidifies,
Love sings wintry songs,
With a cold shoulder she tapped goodbye,
I breath the dewy air,
As dewdrops fell on me,
I am frosty, benumbed,
The air in me wreak coldness,
And so is the moment without her,
As i stand alone,
Flowers died, birds don't nests,
The living are indoors,
I am the only one outside,
Lost in wilderness,
In the fields of cold winter,
Mourning the love lost.
poem by Sukkum Chang
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In a Country
My love and I are inventing a country, which we
can already see taking shape, as if wheels were
passing through yellow mud. But there is a prob-
lem: if we put a river in the country, it will thaw
and begin flooding. If we put the river on the bor-
der, there will be trouble. If we forget about the
river, there will be no way out. There is already a
sky over that country, waiting for clouds or smoke.
Birds have flown into it, too. Each evening more
trees fill with their eyes, and what they see we can
never erase.
One day it was snowing heavily, and again we were
lying in bed, watching our country: we could
make out the wide river for the first time, blue and
moving. We seemed to be getting closer; we saw
our wheel tracks leading into it and curving out
of sight behind us. It looked like the land we had
left, some smoke in the distance, but I wasn't sure.
There were birds calling. The creaking of our
wheels. And as we entered that country, it felt as if
someone was touching our bare shoulders, lightly,
for the last time.
poem by Larry Levis
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Beautiful Birds Of Peace
How Beautiful of birds
of the air,
seeing their awesome
wonderful flair.
So quiet it would be
without their sound
watching them as they
fly all around.
Sweet harmony do they make.
A lonesome world this would be,
for no birds making flight
these wonderful creatures I see.
Beautiful birds of nature
wonderful sounds to my ear
touching me with wonder,
so gentle with serenity
and so dear.
wrote 4-28-07
Granny Them Words
Make hay while the sun shines
Don’t be idle don’t waste time
Think before you talk
You must creep before you walk
Idle hands find idle things to do
Do unto others as you want done unto you
Short cut leads to short life
Every man needs a house for his wife
Go to school get an education
For the world is full of corruption
Birds of a feather flock together
Respect your mother and father
Early to bed and early to rise
Makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise
Like a song from a flock of birds
These where Granny Theme Words
This poem is dedicated to my deceased grandmother Maude Patterson may she rest in peace.
poem by Anthony Yorke
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Little Yellow Butterflies
Little yellow butterflies
smaller than a dime
I wanted conversation
but you didn't have the time
I saw you in the meadow
tasting clover and sweet grass
your paper wings beat faster
as you flew from my harass
I watched you half an hour
‘cause I had nowhere to go
while the sun beat down around us
in the midday ever glow
then I chased you to the sidewalk
where my afternoon began
and I said 'Let Peace be with you'
as I waved a goodbye hand
poem by Sara Fielder
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An Afternoon Poem Is Rare
AN AFTERNOON POEM IS RARE
An Afternoon Poem is rare-
Afternoon is long after the first light-
Afternoon is a time of heaviness and quiet
A time of rest-
Afternoon is after the morning work has been done-
Afternoon is the weight of the day-
Afternoon is the time after the day has lost its freshness-
Still there must be afternoon poems-
There must be a beauty that emerges
In its own way,
Perhaps from where lovers meet
Perhaps from ‘ripeness is all’
Perhaps from the anticipation of evening
Perhaps from winter where it is the warmest time of day.
There must be afternoon poems-
Poems that celebrate all that warmth can bring-
Poems of rest poems of sleep-
Poems of waiting to believe
That in the evening
A new day and a new world
Will make life easier again.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Welcome evening
Sun is ready to set down.
While birds are flying to their respective nest.
When people came out to see beauty of nature.
Cool and pleasant air give feeling of refresh.
Children playing in the ground.
Atmosphere filled with sporting spirit
Every one take advantage sitituation.
Have maximum relaxation, fun, thrill and joy.
An evening, will you please stop for few moment.
Before arrival of night.
poem by Ajay Srivastava
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Spring In Victoria
The bottlebrushes laden with crimson flowers
And there is warmth in the October breeze
And with her Spring has brought her blooms and greenery
And birds are singing on the sunlit trees.
Spring in Victoria my favourite time of year
The birds build their nests and raise their families
The weather not too cool or not too warm
A high today of 17 degrees.
The distinct call sounds of the magpie lark
And the Indian mynah sings his scratchy song
Some birds are easy to identify
And by their voices you never get them wrong.
Spring in Victoria is a time of bloom
And sun shines brightly after the brief showers
The fruit trees cloaked in blossoms of pale pink
And gardens look resplendent in their flowers.
My favourite season is always the spring
And spring in Victoria is now in her prime
The wild birds sing and gardens are in bloom
But Nature's beauty fades with the passage of time.
poem by Francis Duggan
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For To See One More Spring
How marvellous to live for to see one more Spring
To feel the sun's warmth and to hear the birds sing
The sweet scents of Nature of pollen and hay
That wafts in the breeze of a beautiful day.
In search of water surface insects young ducklings are out
With their mums in the Townpark lake quietly swimming about
And the pipe of the shrike thrush is so pleasant to hear
In Nature Spring is such a nice time of year.
Were I a poet of such beauty I would write
A poem others would happily read and recite
Of Spring in her glory when flowers are in bloom
And the gardens are scenting of Nature's perfume.
Into the last month of Spring and young birds learning how to fly
And butterflies dancing in the sunny sky
I hear the familiar voice of the pee wee
And wild birds are whistling on bush and on tree.
poem by Francis Duggan
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When the wind started blowing in the afternoon
When the wind started blowing in the afternoon,
some African red-knobbed coots rose in a screaming row,
while the sun hanged over the water red like fire
and the twilight only lasted moments
while they flew past with slapping wings,
when the wind started blowing in the afternoon,
I felt a light breeze blowing against my cheek,
there was serenity and peace that came to me
while the sun hanged over the water red like fire,
there was a kind of bliss in nature
when dappled Egyptian goose also tried to avoid me,
when the wind started blowing in the afternoon,
I was caught by the sheer beauty,
I heard the call of birds cutting through the reeds,
while the sun hanged over the water red like fire
while the sky was darker and no more azure,
while ducks glide magically through the water,
when the wind started blowing in the afternoon,
the sun hanged over the water red like fire.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Winters smile
Winters smile
~
I saw a winters sun
the day fell too short
time escaped me
still I held a thought
I kept love close by
nurtured in my heart
while the world wilted
I felt a flower grow
like a fist of defiance
a beauty unfolds
not bound to a season
the air was cold
still filled my lungs
my breath rolled out
a vapour cloud
rose to a higher climb
I watched is disappear
thought for a while
a day passed me by
I carried with me
a winters smile
poem by Matthew Holloway
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A Day in a Hospital Ward
Looking out of the window,
I saw the birds flying.
Seeing them so free
I felt like crying.
Then a ‘voice’ said,
You are not here to stay.
So bear with the loneliness
Just for a day.
I got up and stood
Near the window,
And opened it to breathe
The fresh air from the meadow.
As it filled my lungs,
I began to feel light
And no longer envied
The birds their flight.
I got up and changed
And took myself to task,
And to bear with a smile
A day in a hospital ward.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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In Early Spring
O Spring, I know thee! Seek for sweet surprise
In the young children's eyes.
But I have learnt the years, and know the yet
Leaf-folded violet.
Mine ear, awake to silence, can foretell
The cuckoo's fitful bell.
I wander in a gray time that encloses
June and the wild hedge-roses.
A year's procession of the flowers doth pass
My feet, along the grass.
And all you sweet birds silent yet, I know
The notes that stir you so,
Your songs yet half devised in the dim dear
Beginnings of the year.
In these young days you meditate your part;
I have it all by heart.
I know the secrets of the seeds of flowers
Hidden and warm with showers,
And how, in kindling Spring, the cuckoo shall
Alter his interval.
But not a flower or song I ponder is
My own, but memory's.
I shall be silent in those days desired
Before a world inspired.
O dear brown birds, compose your old song-phrases,
Earth, thy familiar daisies.
The poet mused upon the dusky height,
Between two stars towards night,
His purpose in his heart. I watched, a space,
The meaning of his face:
There was the secret, fled from earth and skies,
Hid in his gray young eyes.
My heart and all the Summer wait his choice,
And wonder for his voice.
Who shall foretell his songs, and who aspire
But to divine his lyre?
Sweet earth, we know thy dimmest mysteries,
But he is lord of his.
poem by Alice Meynell
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Suggested by the Cover of a Volume of Keats's Poems
Wild little bird, who chose thee for a sign
To put upon the cover of this book?
Who heard thee singing in the distance dim,
The vague, far greenness of the enshrouding wood,
When the damp freshness of the morning earth
Was full of pungent sweetness and thy song?
Who followed over moss and twisted roots,
And pushed through the wet leaves of trailing vines
Where slanting sunbeams gleamed uncertainly,
While ever clearer came the dropping notes,
Until, at last, two widening trunks disclosed
Thee singing on a spray of branching beech,
Hidden, then seen; and always that same song
Of joyful sweetness, rapture incarnate,
Filled the hushed, rustling stillness of the wood?
We do not know what bird thou art. Perhaps
That fairy bird, fabled in island tale,
Who never sings but once, and then his song
Is of such fearful beauty that he dies
From sheer exuberance of melody.
For this they took thee, little bird, for this
They captured thee, tilting among the leaves,
And stamped thee for a symbol on this book.
For it contains a song surpassing thine,
Richer, more sweet, more poignant. And the poet
Who felt this burning beauty, and whose heart
Was full of loveliest things, sang all he knew
A little while, and then he died; too frail
To bear this untamed, passionate burst of song.
poem by Amy Lowell
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Lost in Memories, Remembering The Good and Ugly
Lost in memories
Remembering
The good and ugly
Worrying about
Day to day problems
My head started aching
I took a pill
Waited for some time
Without any relief
My heart told me to leave
Thinking
Asked me to sit in the garden
Look at the flowers
Hear the chirping of birds
Feel the cool air that flowed
Admire the nature at it best
I did what my heart said
Within no time
I forgot my pain
I was now enjoying
The gift of god
Relieved of stress
Thoughts stopped coming
My mind became fresh
I felt happy and calm
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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Wonderful World
(d. fletcher / m. flett)
This is a wonderful day
Its as bright as a days ever been
There is a big yellow sun looking down
On a wonderful scene
Up in the blue sky birds fly
And sing our cares away
And out of each throat each note
Greets a wonderful day
There is the sound of a symphony
Carried along on the breeze
Even the flowers are swaying in time
With the leaves on the trees
Heaven is found right here on the earth
It surrounds us in the wonderful things all around
In this wonderful wonderful
Wonderful wonderful world
This is a wonderful day
Its as bright as a days ever been
There is a big yellow sun looking down
On a wonderful scene
Heaven is found right here on the earth
It surrounds us in the wonderful things all around
In this wonderful wonderful
Wonderful wonderful world
Wonderful world, this wonderful world
Wonderful world, this wonderful world
Wonderful world, this wonderful world
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Three Plum Buns
Three plum buns
To eat here at the stile
In the clover meadow,
For we have walked a mile.
One for you, and one for me,
And one left over:
Give it to the boy who shouts
To scare sheep from the clover.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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I Begged God for My Life
I cursed the birds
Their droppings soiled my clothes
I cursed the animals
Their droppings soiled my feet
While walking on the beach
I cursed the insects
For eating flowers in my garden
I took a gun
Killed the birds and the animals
Sprayed deadly poison
On the the insects
I was feeling happy
As if I had conquered the world
I heard god’s voice
What should I do with you my son?
You soiled my world
By killing my
Birds, insects and animals
For your greed and lust
I begged god for my life
Promised him to
Treat man, animals alike
Preserve his world
With all my might
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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Two birds on a tree
Look at this old photograph..
some of these old photos look
more ancient than their, what,
hundred-and-twenty years;
as if the very air was different, then?
This one’s simply of
two birds in a tree:
one sits and watches;
the other eats the fruits..
this moment, frozen, framed, in time,
takes on the epic stature
of a metaphor, a myth:
what of the previous second
in our passing time? What
of the next second?
Where have those birds come from,
where may they go next?
If we cease to patronise
their ‘bird-brains’, see them
closer to their God than we
whose minds depart so far from nature…
if we think they think, in thoughts
which we may share – then,
what are they thinking? what
do they think of one another?
I look again at the photo, speculate;
the photo grows in my concern
to some great tree of primal Paradise…
the Tree of Knowledge, could it be?
Is the one bird thinking,
what a fine place this is to rest!
A place to hide, if so need be,
among its leaves; a height,
an observation post,
I still, the world about its business;
in stillness, I a little nearer to God,
just a little lower than the angels,
without beating my wings to find
a heaven above…
Is the other bird thinking,
what a fine restaurant I’ve found,
that God provided; I so hungry
on my way; how much I need to eat
to give me strength for further flight…
and have these two birds even noticed
each other, and each other’s state?
Are they two siblings from the self-same nest,
flying together through their lives;
loving one another until the last birdfall?
Two rivals, just about to fight to death?
Or, two fore-flyers of the same great flock,
about to land and strip the tree of fruit,
then rest, God-filled, to know Him in that stillness?
These thoughts; an ancient photograph;
now I wonder about the unknown photographer
who saw the world, in two birds on a tree.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Beautiful Bird
I saw beautiful bird
'Cuckoo' by name and with lovely voice cord
Always there to bring about some cheers for human being
As they love the nature and in praise sing
I saw the pain and dryness in bird's voice cord
The bird watched towards sky and jumped forward
This was not good omen and I feared some bad fallout
I thought of certain short fall in rain resulting in draught
Dark clouds were no where seen
With little sweet melody you can witness the scene
I helplessly observed no change
As bird felt it and could hardly raise
Some people pick the sense and raise the concern
They too predict something bad and speak it in turn
Rain God may not be kind this year
If it is to be believed in ears
Birds give good indication of seasons
Their arrival in time with reasons
They pick it with their hidden sense
They express joy with their presence
Take morning stroll if you can
You may feel freshness of air without fan
It blows gently to instill new energy
A real blessings and chance from almighty
I always to see beautiful things around
Cool breeze to feel and dews on the ground
It is really wonderful to think of best friend
Nature as such is our close ally to stand by
Let us be with birds to celebrate
Enjoy its presence and strongly relate
We have to share more burdens
As we have lost some ground and faith is shaken
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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