No Cold Feelings
Look to the fields and fill the eyes
with nature's perfect feast,
Meadows full of a wild array
of treasures unreleased.
Clusters of daisies, broom and sage
displaying lovely hues,
Violets, thrift and lady smock,
enhancing splendid views.
Precious creations of natural beauty
in our landscapes lie,
These variations our vision explores,
and new marvels we espy.
The air, the space and the freedom,
are found in these plush leas,
No cold feelings of confinement,
for they're only there to please.
A place for plants to mingle
and grow at their own pace,
Lifting their heads to greet the sun,
its warmth to thus embrace.
To spend an afternoon or two
in a verdant mead, you'd see,
Diverse flowers in their multi colours.
Such a treat for the honeybee.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Flowers Galore
Are there not flowers like the rose,
Those look prettier and smell better?
Yet, people do not prefer them,
Nor nurture them in tonnes for use.
Are there not flowers in the wild,
With gorgeous looks and perfumes great,
Whose birth is known to herds that graze?
God only knows why they are there!
Are there not flowers hidden well,
In forests deep and dense and dark,
But are found rarely like orchids,
Those look so splendid to the eye?
Are there not flowers raised in fields
Or found in meadows, lawns so green,
And sold as garlands for deities,
Or strewn on tombs and cemeteries?
And yet, some cannot even bud
Or blossom into flowers big;
While some get trampled under feet,
A few adorn altars of God!
Galore are flowers that we see,
Whose hues, shapes, sizes vary much;
God makes each petal, leaf and bud
With beauty that no words can tell.
Each one bears witness to God’s pow’r,
And smiles with freshness with each shower;
Each one is beautiful a flow’r;
And decks the planet earth’s bower!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 12-19-2008
poem by John Celes
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The Rainbow
After the tempest in the sky
How sweet yon rainbow to the eye!
Come, my Matilda, now while some
Few drops of rain are yet to come,
In this honeysuckle bower
Safely sheltered from the shower,
We may count the colours o'er.-
Seven there are, there are no more;
Each in each so finely blended,
Where they begin, or where are ended,
The finest eye can scarcely see.
A fixed thing it seems to be;
But, while we speak, see how it glides
Away, and now observe it hides
Half of its perfect arch-now we
Scarce any part of it can see.
What is colour? If I were
A natural philosopher,
I would tell you what does make
This meteor every colour take:
But an unlearned eye may view
Nature's rare sights, and love them too.
Whenever I a rainbow see,
Each precious tint is dear to me;
For every colour find I there,
Which flowers, which fields, which ladies wear:
My favourite green, the grass's hue,
And the fine deep violet-blue,
And the pretty pale blue-bell,
And the rose I love so well,
All the wondrous variations
Of the tulips, pinks, carnations,
This woodbine here both flower and leaf.
'Tis a truth that's past belief,
That every flower and every tree,
And every living thing we see,
Every face which we espy,
Every cheek and every eye,
In all their tints, in every shade,
Are from the rainbow's colours made.
poem by Charles Lamb
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Setting the scene for M lady Lucianne
Few know where shy white violets grow
but I am one of those who do.
Just take my hand and we will go
together to a place I know.
I am prepared to share with you
But you must swear you will not tell
a single soul for if you do.
Too many folks will go there to
grub up the plants and take them home
to plant them in their garden plot.
Where other folks are not welcome
I would not mind if they took some.
But know quite well they’ll take them all
and leave not one single plant behind.
Their greed would be the plants downfall.
There would be none for us to find.
When we go walking hand in hand
along this pretty lovers lane.
I know my love you understand.
The violets grow where nature planned.
That white violets are very rare,
they are not meant to be confined.
They do not need a gardeners care
You will see when we get there.
Their beauty in a natural state.
Where they were intended to be,
I know you will appreciate
why I swear you to secrecy.
But I trust you implicitly
I know that you will not betray
the shy white violets or me.
You are the soul of honesty.
That’s why I am in love with you.
Not only are you sweet and kind
but to your word you’re always true.
and do what you say you will do.
When we get there I will propose
and hope that you will answer yes.
I think you have guessed my purpose
and know exactly why I chose.
To show my violets to you
today and now in early spring,
In fact I am convinced you do.
You know me far too well not to.
4-Dec-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poetic piers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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When I Want To See Beauty
When I want to see beauty I need not travel far
Not even for a short drive in a car
Outside my window on flowering callistemon tree
A natural thing of beauty there to see.
The new holland honeyeater in his dark and gold
A bird of beauty lovely to behold
He chirrups loud amongst the leafy bowers
And take his fill of nectar from the flowers.
When I want beauty all I have to do
Is walk near my home down shady avenue
Where white backed magpie on the tall gum sing
In Nature beauty is a natural thing.
For beauty money I don't have to pay
Or purchase flight ticket to far away
At night I see it in the starry sky
A thing of beauty is a thing of joy.
And the finest of beauty you don't pay to see
Like a red rosella on a sunlit tree
In Nature's garden living wild and free
And you won't see any prettier than he.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Colours of Spring Current Version
The gracious orange tree's greened branchlets grow
to greet blue sky with golden sun a-glow.
The vernal verdant shoots of Spring now sprout
through soft brown earth, here, there, and round about.
Winter's grey coat is shed, no sharp winds blow,
iris and honeysuckle soft hues show.
Bees, butterflies, for pollen pastures scout
sip tulips, scene's serenity throughout.
Dawn daffodils in buttercup meadows,
red roses, amber, in alternate rows,
violets, lilacs, pinks are pushing out -
divinity of Nature none may doubt.
(31 March 2012)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Nature/Diversity Without Dividing
Do you see how lovely and diverse nature is? Nature, as the great beauty she is in this photo, of a beautiful Bougainvillea flowered, potted plant and the love affair between the blooms and the delightful dance of the butterfly, seem to live in perfect harmony and love for one another.
They are different in species, yes, but harmonize in nature to provide a loving, ever-lasting love affair to propagate nature’s continued beauty. They are inherently diverse in nature yet strive to work together to benefit all who enjoy.
This is a beautiful statement actually to “embrace a benevolent spirit and heart for diversity yet without the complexities of trying to divide and conquer as humankind sometimes tends to do.” Why must we do that?
Can we not all live in harmony, love and peace? Imagine this, “diversity without dividing.” What a beautiful concept. Allow us to live in a diverse setting without contesting every move someone makes. Let us live as one.
poem by John Evans
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Warm Winds And Gentle Rains
The buds of spring are a beginning
for the green leaves of summer
and the sparkling colours
that will soon greet our eyes.
The warm winds and gentle rains
will remove the harshness of winter’s gloom
and help the birth of new flowers blooms.
We’ll leave behind the long darkness
as we wake to days of summer’s sun.
The feelings of goodness
will inherit the heart
and smiles will ring out
with the warmth of colours
that will greet our eyes.
25-26 February 2009
poem by David Harris
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A Beauty Natural Is True!
Is beauty woman?
Is beauty Art?
Is beauty Nature?
Man explores beauty
In woman, Art and Nature
To find out true beauty!
Woman makes up herself beautiful;
Art is made up full of beauty;
But Nature is simply natural;
For, Nature is true and simple forever!
So, natural is beautiful
And Nature is true beauty!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Infinite Beauty
Looking over the fields towards the Sun,
Observing that the rain had just begun,
A freshness seemed to permeate the air,
And all that one could do was, stand and stare,
As something magical crept across the skies,
A vision that was reflected in my eyes.
A sight of infinite beauty, there to see,
One of the wonders given to us, for free.
Lovely colours blending, like a dream,
In subtle hues, an arched rainbow supreme.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Eden Still Existent
New Zealand
South Island
West Coast
tropical rain forest
sacred images fuse soul
under canopy of life
Eden still existent
living temple of life
flowers in eye heart
breath embrace atmosphere
sight embrace vision horizons
touch ecosystem life non-life
sunlight wind kiss water soil
light water soil nutrients bless
plants into new sprouting life
lakes rivers landscapes
everything is connected life
water; water temperature
plants animals inhale air
light soil water work together
balance life elements least
plants die algae plants
produce oxygen produce fibre
feed herbivores omnivores
energy soil sunlight water
plants produce filter air
produce diverse vegetation
their plant bodies foods
animals herbivores feast eat
plants omnivores feast eat
plants animals both eaten
carnivores eat herbivores
sometimes other carnivores
webs of life interlock creation
decomposers break down dead
planets animals into elements
organic materials waste recycled
back into life nurturing womb soil
energy sunlight kiss soil water
interlocked ecosystems dance
cosmic creation life webs
strands of life sail cosmic winds
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Dazzling Hues
Golden sunshine goes streaming down the hills,
Lighting those slender, beaming daffodils.
Warming breezes skilfully wend their way,
Coaxing flowers to elegantly sway.
Spring whose colours boast such splendid views,
Tantalise the eyes with dazzling hues.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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A Red Dirt Day
It was just a lazy afternoon
Not much was going on
I decided to take a drive
And I thought as I drove along
How much I enjoyed every day
With red dirt beneath my feet
And on this lovely journey
Friendly cows were such a treat
Hay bales lined up like dominos
So needed for winter feed
Newly plowed bright red fields
To plant those precious seeds
A pond with dazzling red draws
A tree or two around
I always have my window down
To hear the country sounds
Ah yes, I have the perfect life
A place I will always stay
I wish you could be with me
For a perfect red dirt day!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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Beauty is everywhere
Beauty is everywhere
Only person should dare
Enjoy it to full extent
We remain no cause to resent
Beauty and joy is for ever
In every season everywhere
In nature, in people and in flowers
And why do we forget about rainy showers?
What do I see in flower?
Its fragrance or color
What do I smell when go near?
With curiosity, love or fear
Many have opined about beauty
I consider it most in the almighty
It is with his blessing that we all have eyes
To see and appreciate with no try
I feel sad when think of its tenure
How much it may last? I am not sure
It may even be crushed under feet
Next time I may not see when come again to greet
I am sue one thing
It has magnificent pull for something
Our feet move only in that direction
For swift and smooth action
Beauty can be seen on mother's face
Beautiful horse participating in race
Or lovely garden with colorful roses
Where you have different option to choose
I say with full knowledge
As it must have no edge
It is as natural as possible
Pick it or pluck it if it is permissible
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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My Wonderment Of Nature
The more I learn of Nature the less about her I know I know
What causes the sea currents and what causes plants to grow
What causes the pink or white blossoms in Spring to grow on the fruit bearing tree?
So magical is Nature or so 'twould seem to me.
The great beauty of Nature we do not pay to see
The landscapes, lakes and waterways the vastness of the sea
In comparison to Nature human achievements small
And she outlives all of her life forms the greatest one of all.
To the one known as Earth Mother respect we do not pay
Yet she lives on forever and we grow old and gray
Those who talk of human immortals believe in their own lie
There is one immortal Nature and she will never die.
My wonderment of Nature grows with every passing day
The beauty in the bird song in the wood across the way
The Goddess of the Ocean and the Goddess of the Land
And that we take her for granted is something I do not understand
poem by Francis Duggan
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You Are Lovely
You are lovely and few
can outdo your beauty
when your eyes sparkle like dew
in the early morning while you smile in modesty
and they both have the colour of all the oceans
displaying feelings of tender gladness
bringing something sweet to emotions
in a world of sheer madness
and when I look at you countenance
in my heart stormy winds are waken
while love and loveliness fill every glance
while to the depths of my soul I am shaken
while you are so vivacious
and this very moment becomes extremely precious.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Blossoms
Flowers lovely, marvellous gift from God,
They deck the Earth, they give delight,
They drape the dales and adorn the hills,
They feast the eyes and fill the hearts.
My life blooms when plants are abloom,
Each morn, I gaze at flowers in myriad hues,
That adorn the garden my mother keeps,
Her prized possession next to her kids.
Through the arch window, Roses are in sight,
Chrysanthemums and Daisies, they grow in rows,
The white Lilies and the purple Tulips,
They seem to delight in their contrast shades.
In summer I watch the butterflies flitting around,
Also the honey bees that come to steal the pollen from the blooms,
Small birds that dart into twining boughs,
Build nests in the secret hide of bushy trees.
In rain, I watch the flutter of silvery leaves,
Washed anew and sparkling in radiant glow,
After rain, I count the droplets trapped within,
That struggle to escape from the chamber of hollow blooms.
In breeze, I see the flowers dancing in cheer,
And swing their heads in synchronizing motion,
These sights fill me with indescribable joy,
And set my heart racing in glee.
But when a withering flower comes in view,
It aches my heart and makes me grieve,
Then a question crops within my mind,
Why should a flower wilt and wither so fast.
Before I let the question fly from me
A consoling thought fleets across my brain
Transient it be, it delights all,
Spreads its fragrance all around,
Serves nectar to humming birds and bees,
And decks the Earth in brilliant charm.
What more-needed to fulfill a life,
Than be a source of delight to many!
poem by Valsa George
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Raphael
I shall not soon forget that sight
The glow of Autumn's westering day,
A hazy warmth, a dreamy light,
On Raphael's picture lay.
It was a simple print I saw,
The fair face of a musing boy;
Yet, while I gazed, a sense of awe
Seemed blending with my joy.
A simple print,--the graceful flow
Of boyhood's soft and wavy hair,
And fresh young lip and cheek, and brow
Unmarked and clear, were there.
Yet through its sweet and calm repose
I saw the inward spirit shine;
It was as if before me rose
The white veil of a shrine.
As if, as Gothland's sage has told,
The hidden life, the man within,
Dissevered from its frame and mould,
By mortal eye were seen.
Was it the lifting of that eye,
The waving of that pictured hand?
Loose as a cloud-wreath on the sky,
I saw the walls expand.
The narrow room had vanished,--space,
Broad, luminous, remained alone,
Through which all hues and shapes of grace
And beauty looked or shone.
Around the mighty master came
The marvels which his pencil wrought,
Those miracles of power whose fame
Is wide as human thought.
There drooped thy more than mortal face,
O Mother, beautiful and mild
Enfolding in one dear embrace
Thy Saviour and thy Child!
The rapt brow of the Desert John;
The awful glory of that day
When all the Father's brightness shone
Through manhood's veil of clay.
And, midst gray prophet forms, and wild
Dark visions of the days of old,
How sweetly woman's beauty smiled
Through locks of brown and gold!
There Fornarina's fair young face
Once more upon her lover shone,
Whose model of an angel's grace
He borrowed from her own.
Slow passed that vision from my view,
But not the lesson which it taught;
The soft, calm shadows which it threw
Still rested on my thought:
The truth, that painter, bard, and sage,
Even in Earth's cold and changeful clime,
Plant for their deathless heritage
The fruits and flowers of time.
We shape ourselves the joy or fear
Of which the coming life is made,
And fill our Future's atmosphere
With sunshine or with shade.
The tissue of the Life to be
We weave with colors all our own,
And in the field of Destiny
We reap as we have sown.
Still shall the soul around it call
The shadows which it gathered here,
And, painted on the eternal wall,
The Past shall reappear.
Think ye the notes of holy song
On Milton's tuneful ear have died?
Think ye that Raphael's angel throng
Has vanished from his side?
Oh no!--We live our life again;
Or warmly touched, or coldly dim,
The pictures of the Past remain,---
Man's works shall follow him!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Double Red Daisies
Double red daisies, they’re my flowers,
Which nobody else may grow.
In a big quarrelsome house like ours
They try it sometimes—but no,
I root them up because they’re my flowers,
Which nobody else may grow.
Claire has a tea-rose, but she didn’t plant it;
Ben has an iris, but I don’t want it.
Daisies, double red daisies for me,
The beautifulest flowers in the garden.
Double red daisy, that’s my mark:
I paint it in all my books!
It’s carved high up on the beech-tree bark,
How neat and lovely it looks!
So don’t forget that it’s my trade mark;
Don’t copy it in your books.
Claire has a tea-rose, but she didn’t plant it;
Ben has an iris, but I don’t want it.
Daisies, double red daisies for me,
The beautifulest flowers in the garden.
poem by Robert Graves
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What is beauty
beauty they say
is being fair of face
beauty is unexplainable
its everywhere, at everyplace
theres beauty in a mothers eyes
and beauty in a babys face
beauty in a soaring tree
and beauty in a
deserted place
beauty in knobbly hands,
that are weathered due to toil and pace
beauty in natures creations
beauty in His kindness and grace
beauty in the joy of parenthood
beauty in the love of friends
beauty too in adversities
and the angels of mercy he also sends
so much beauty, so much joy
all around if we care to see
this world is full of wondrous things
not apparent to you and me
stop to savour reflect awhile
there is beauty all around
things that happen, prayers anwered
His beauty leaves you spellbound
poem by Arti Chopra
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Magnifying Eyes
If we could be able, with magnifying eyes,
To view the delicacy of a tiny flower,
And see the intricate patterns materialize,
Kept blooming by each gentle refreshing shower.
Then beauty in these creations could so easily be found,
If only we would take the time to gaze,
Deep into its nucleus, which can stunningly astound,
When seeing so many wonders. How they amaze!
Everything is perfect, a design so sweetly rare,
Not one the same, so different from each other.
All that is found within our vision's stare,
Will be seen to be dissimilar to another.
Yet we cannot look with magnifying eyes,
And so miss the things in nature of such worth.
It's not always the largest entities that give us a surprise,
But also the minutest forms upon this earth.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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