A Simple Leaf
A sculpture so beautifully designed,
Becomes a pleasure to the mind,
In colours of yellow, red and brown,
Wearing a true autumnal gown.
It had fluttered down, fully complete,
And landed gently, at my feet,
I picked it up, and then did view,
A passenger, a spider who,
Had settled there, a place to choose,
And awakening from his lengthy snooze,
Quickly skuttled off, making his escape,
Leaving me with just, the perfect shape
Of a simple leaf, with its own story,
Resting in my hand, in all its glory.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Related quotes
4. Footwear for Spiders
A spider went shopping
To buy some new shoes
He tried on so many
But just couldn’t choose
He first tried four pairs
Each laced polished black
Then eight yellow flip flops
But all were to slack
Having searched every rack
He found some brown boots
Which he tried on at once
But they looked like tree roots
So he settled for clogs
Making eight feet look wider
Because no one sells shoes
For a smart trendy spider
poem by David Threadgold (2008)
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A leaf fluttered in through the window this morning, as if supported by the rays of the sun, a bird settled on the fire escape, joy in the task of coffee, joy accompanied me as I walked.
Simple Mind
There’s simple girl
With simple mind
She wants perfect love
But she finds it’s hard
To get a perfect guy
With a perfect job
Has a perfect house
Keeps a perfect dog
In a perfect time
And a perfect place
For a perfect happily ever after
So she change little
Of her simple mind
She still wants perfect love
She knows it’s hard
To get a perfect guy
With a perfect job
Has a perfect house
Keeps a perfect dog
In a perfect time
And a perfect place
For a perfect happily ever after
But at least she quite satisfied
With her simple mind
She doesn’t have perfect love
But she finds it’s hard to leave him
That has a good smile
Gets a desirable job
Builds a little home
Keeps a cheering dog
In unexpected moment
And unforgettable place
For hopefully happily ever after
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Night Worker
A spider spun his web all night
and waited patiently.
A fly had circled all the morn
and buzzed there cautiously.
The spider watched and stayed so still.
No movement did he make.
And by and by the fly descended
and landed wide-awake.
He spotted the spider and tried his best
to escape the sticky trap.
The spider watched and slowly moved
and the fly with his handicap
became the bait inside the web
that the spider made at night.
The spider had his breakfast early
in the morning light.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Nowhere To Hide
I drove through each dancing, tumbling leaf,
that rolled with great speed across the street.
And as the wind blew, each did retreat
to their final destiny, too brief.
With such gaiety they twirled and spun,
partying with unleashed energy.
Perhaps they were up to devilry,
enjoying themselves when day was done.
Their colours were of the richest kind,
gold, orange, yellow, red, beige and brown.
With gentle ease they had fluttered down,
copper richness on the ground combined.
With this spectacle each year to view,
it warms our hearts before winter-tide.
When trees become bare, nowhere to hide,
grey starkness against the blue sky’s hue.
Stopping the car, I opened the door,
treading on layers of duplicate shades.
Dazzling eyes, before foliage fades
into a cold and frozen earth’s floor.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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While Playing My Guitar
gently strumming my guitar
soft music fills the air
quietly humming along
thoughts begin floating
getting carried away
with notes beautifully played
approaching you reach out
taking my hand, leading me
finding our secret escape
twirling along with the chorus
lyrics written so perfect
matching our special moment
smiling, pulling me closer
you steal a kiss from me
more rapidly the song plays
matching our hearts fluttering
dancing and laughing
enjoying the sweet melody
till all too soon we begin fading
slowing, this perfect songs ending
leaving, whispering you love me
alone again, just dreaming
of what might have been
while quietly playing my guitar.
poem by Silentpoet Grl
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Did I Really See That?
A woman on our bed wearing my gown with ma woman
Sleeping on my side of the bed?
Am I replaced?
So quick?
I thought we were going to talk
About it
Try to work it out
I cancelled all my plans
In a manner to surprise you
I didn't like the way things went
The other day
And now I get home
To find this?
A woman on our bed
Wearing my gown with ma woman on ma side of da bed
Am I replaced?
Just like that?
I thought what we had meant
Something to you
I thought we had a connection
I thought fate had brought us
Together
I thought our future
Was written somewhere
In heaven
Most of all I thought the feeling
Was mutual
For 5years I was relaxed
Thinking I'm in the right place
Where my soul belongs
Wasn't looking
Wasn't searching
Was content
And now I find
A woman on our bed wearing my gown with ma woman
On my side of the bed
Am I replaced?
Already!
I had always been loyal
You cheated more than I could remember
And I kept forgiving n forgetting
I kept loving you like you
Never wronged me
I Kept on trusting you
but to you all that was just a blur
I bet you thought I was fool
I bet you thought I'd never leave you
I bet you thought you were ma life
That's why you cheated
That's why you lied
That's why now I find
A woman on our bed wearing my gown with ma woman
On my side of the bed
Am I replaced?
I know you are
I have ran out of tears
I cried for so long*difedile*
I have ran out of Forgiveness
I forgiven you more than the
Bibble Says I should
I have ran out of space for you
The place I used to keep you is shuttered
And I have ran out of love for you
What I thought was mine
Is now ours
What I thought I owned
It turned out
We own
What I thought was true to me
It was all a lie
A woman on our bed
Wearing my gown
With my woman
On my side of the bed
She can stay
I'll leave..
poem by Diopelo King
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The larvae
the larvae
it has grown
shed its ugly days
crept out of dried brown leaf
in a lovely batik
to start a princely life
crowned with two wings
it has flown high into the sky
as if to announce its glory
it now has honey as food
and flowers as friends
never once in its larvae days
it has thought life would turn out
to be so grand
the man too has grown, shrivelled
and passed away
leaving a world of colourful imagination
as to its existence beyond
perhaps he too now lives a grand life
somewhere.... in a garden
leaving the drab existence behind
like the larvae that leaves its brown leaf
to fly away a glory of nature
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Street Lanterns
Country roads are yellow and brown.
We mend the roads in London town.
Never a hansom dare come nigh,
Never a cart goes rolling by.
An unwonted silence steals
In between the turning wheels.
Quickly ends the autumn day,
And the workman goes his way,
Leaving, midst the traffic rude,
One small isle of solitude,
Lit, throughout the lengthy night,
By the little lantern's light.
Jewels of the dark have we,
Brighter than the rustic's be.
Over the dull earth are thrown
Topaz, and the ruby stone.
poem by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge
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Perhaps This Time
A snowball on the ground, I have found, perfectly round,
created maybe by small hands, it stands and thus commands,
me to scoop it up and toss it across the cosmos.
And this I had wished to do, but it flew not, and slipped through my fingers,
landing at my feet, on hard concrete, no longer complete.
Carefully made and displayed, it was like a grenade
as the moulded flakes shattered into fragments which then takes the sun
to turn them into tiny watery lakes.
And now another snowball I have found, and this one is also action bound,
so whitely gowned.
Perhaps this time I can throw it high, beyond the sky, I know I’ll try.
Each single particle, never one the same, is so beautifully designed,
miraculously refined, and a pleasure to the mind.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Memory Love
She languishes there among my memories
making fleeting and unexpected appearances;
cupid's arrows still flying true
to my heart stone;
before I can look to see
she is gone again,
mixing in perfectly among other opaque
things which live too inside my mind.
She would lay sometimes in full view
on her Cleopatra Sofa
almost it seemed
reachable
but no;
my extended mental hand
would reach
grasping only air
and she is gone again-
I'm sure after feasting
on that perfect cantaloupe
of my adoring glances.
She remains most times perfectly still
for all memory is perfectly still
and that is its curse-she never ages
in my mind over the many years since
I saw her last;
while I have.
The tragic irony here is
I have moved on and she remains
living there pristine
in that Memory World which I provide,
my gift to her.
Perhaps actually seeing her
would ruin things for she and I.
So I will keep her in her perfect world;
it is the least I can do
for my Old Perfect Love
and hope too, that I
inhabit a similar place
in her mind.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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The Wren
It was a quiet morning;
As usual my wife Laureen opened the front door (leaving it open wide) in hopes that the cat would follow her out. (Little did she know that a small intruder had flown in through the open door.) After retrieving the morning newspaper, with coffee mug full of steaming coffee Laureen settled into
her morning ritual, with "Neferkitti" (our cat) snuggled on the bar stool next to her.
Suddenly there was a flutter and thump as a tiny wren flew into a window in the dining room.
The bird fell to the floor momentarily stunned. Taking advantage of the moment, with great speed and agility Neferkitti pounced on the helpless bird. Mouthing the bird softly, she presented her catch to her master. Horrified Laureen admonished the cat, screaming "Let her go". With great reluctance the cat dropped the bird on the floor. After a few moments the bird flew up to a tall cabinet, where she landed to assess her predicament.
At this time I was laying in bed reading, when I heard Laureen shout loudly "Ray get in here there is a bird in the house'. I slipped on a shirt, grabbed my glasses, and walked in just as the bird took flight and landed on the rail leading to my upstairs office. Walking up the stairs slowly I reached for the perched bird who quickly flew back down to the family room. Not seeing where she landed I searched the room. Suddenly she flew into a large picture window in the family room. The confused bird sat on the sill looking out of the window. I approached the bird, who made no attempt to fly off. I reached down, and with cupped hands gently picked up the traumatized bird. She chirped once and settled into my warm hands.
Making my way to the sliding door that leads to the outside deck I stepped out and opened my hands to release the bird. Gripping the index finger of my right hand she was reluctant to fly. I stood there, and time froze.
Our eyes met, and I felt the impact of what was happening;
From the wren's perspective here stood a god-like giant with the power of life and death over her. From my perspective there perched on a single finger was a tiny creature who I could crush with hardly any effort. In that brief moment we were both experienced the miracle, diversity and fragile nature of life.
"All creatures great and small"
Walking over to a bench on the deck and with palm up I waited for the bird to step off onto the safety of the bench and freedom. She gripped even more tightly, as if she'd found safety in my hands. With my left hand I gently coaxed her off my right hand onto the bench, where she stood looking around. She made no effort to fly away, so I went back through the door, closed it and stood watching, hoping that she was not seriously injured.
While walking up the stairs to my office I heard Laureen (who'd been watching) exclaim loudly;
"She just flew away"!
Gratified...I went up to my office to write an account of this magical and humbling event.
ROTMS
View ROTMS writings, images and video at;
rotms.blogspot.com
poem by Ray Lucero
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Teenage Sculpture Emotional Overture
teenage sculpture
emotional overture
written green blue
dye experiences true
colours fabric twist shape
gape ego flesh scrape
face youth reality rape
escape cape lesson tape
youth soul flame learnin
heart within glaze burtin
face of teenager eyes life
mold lesson realities strife
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Allegory Of Pleasure...
there is more
to find in this mountain
the snails have not reached here
the birds are not telling the complete view
a vista of clouds
and little white houses beside a river
there is more on top of the trees
you have seen a lot
but there is nothing that can be touched
for the pleasure of the hands
so what is the use?
the feet are ready
and tomorrow is the final leaving
there is no regret
somehow he will try getting into the body of the cow
it will be nice there
there is more pleasure with the grass
and there is no moral
code to adopt
mud is still cooler for the body
dress is but a prison without a key
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Spider
A brown big eyed spider wearing wellingtons and a bowler hat
came from under the door, and wiped its feet on the kitchen mat.
It said, “Good morning sir, I’ve come in from out of the rain,
if you don’t mind I’d like to stay until the sun comes out again.
I actually arrived by accident and was carried here by a floating leaf,
if it hadn’t stopped by your doorstep I would’ve met with certain grief.
Do you know it’s been ages since I’ve eaten, and I’d love a cup of tea.
Is there any chance of a sandwich, egg or sausage will be fine with me.
It doesn’t look like the rain will stop today, but there’s always tomorrow.
Have you any old clothes to keep me warm, or a blanket I can borrow?
Thank you for your kindness, but would it be possible to stay the night,
I take up very little room, and in fact I’ll pretty much keep out of sight?
Tomorrow morning when the sun comes up I’ll be merrily on my way
and I’ll tell my friends that when its raining this is the place to stay.
When I do wake up, please no fuss, a full English breakfast will be fine,
so thanks for your hospitality, and you’ll always be a friend of mine.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Gently
(words & music by wizell - lisbona)
Gently your eyes met mine
Tender, trusting, true
Gently your hand took mine
Thrilled me through and through
Gently, oh so gently
Gentle as the dawn
Gently, oh so gently
Our true love was born
Gently your lips kissed mine
As we strolled along
Gently your heart touched mine
Young and warm and strong
Gently the hour is near
When true loves have to part
Gently well meet again
One more kiss, sweetheart
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Secret of Life
You & me, we all have our own destination,
Everything is up to our life experiences and conception.
We shouldn't blame parents, genes or the other guy on the road,
Whatever happens to us, we attracted our own load.
Consciously or not, it is not the question,
Everything is a lesson to teach us for our direction.
If we want to have perfect health, good life and true happiness,
We have to understand nature's law to do only kindness.
First we have to learn to think accordingly,
Trust the power within to guide where we have to be.
Then, have courage to call everything 'good', no matter what it is,
This way the lesson will be clear, & in time we'll understand the prognosis.
If we oppose, it will be forced on us heavily,
If we go along without a grudge, it soon disappears completely.
In the meantime we must learn a lot about everything,
That we wouldn't be fooled with worldly messages or do not nothing.
We were made of body & spirit, we are two sided,
Meditation & prayer should go hand in hand, doing everything wholehearted
Perfect health doesn't come from eating every delicious thing,
Nor resting too much, have a boring life, or even live like a king.
Perfect health comes from a healthy mind,
Eat the best nutrition, move enough & do not stay in stress or bind.
With perfect faith in only goodness, that you'll always have enough,
Live simple, do not be a prodigal child & your life will not be tough.
If you loose the ego, which can make you a martyr,
Or became a dictator to try to force others for your will,
Giving true thanks for everything & every person in your life,
True happiness will never leave you, you'll never be in strife.
Life or malediction is up to your decision,
Complete faith in goodness or just the opposition.
Ask & you shall receive, but do not pray in vain,
Believe after the first request, that what ever comes
Will be the best solution in ordain.
poem by LaSoaphia QuXazs
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A Perfect Gent
He was a perfect gent,
Who having thus been lent,
This, Oh such precious key,
With which to view a property,
Which he hoped she might like to buy.
She'd deemed him a lovely guy.
He was a perfect gent,
Who seemed to be intent,
On making so sure that she,
Felt absolutely free,
To look around the place,
And, perhaps, consider it her base.
He was a perfect gent,
Who seemed to be content,
To follow just behind
Her, whilst she was thus inclined,
To take her time to survey,
Each room along the way.
He was a perfect gent,
Who smiled at her and sent,
A shiver, down her spine,
Which to her was quite divine,
Leaving her with a special kind,
Of fascination, in her mind.
He was a perfect gent,
Who hoped that she'd consent,
To become his future wife,
And to travel so, through life,
Hoping too, that this property,
Would hold the vital key.
He was a perfect gent,
Who in the time they spent
Together, in this prime location,
Made her feel such wild elation,
That, standing entranced by his side,
She consented to become his bride.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Shopping
A shop is of beauty, as a greater building
Of worth and gifts, the plenty of grouping.
We save our money and spend our glory,
The very riding of the vehicle is sorry.
Once the building is complete and complete,
It designed our life as we see fit with our feet.
Us, the customers, shall glorify you,
A shopkeeper is against the very zoo.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Sunny Afternoon
A branch rocks me in the deep blue.
In the frolicking, autumnal leaf-tangle
Moths flicker, intoxicated and crazy.
Ax blows resound in the floodplain.
My mouth bites into red berries
And light and shadows sway in the foliage.
For hours golden dust falls
Crackling in the brown ground.
The thrush laughs from the bushes
And frolicking and loudly the autumnal leaf-tangle
Strikes together above me -
Fruits detach bright and heavy.
poem by Georg Trakl
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