Related quotes: A sultry evening, sunshine stays....

Softly Kissed

A sultry evening, sunshine stays.
Rain clouds hover between its rays.
Chilly breeze provokingly plays,
lifting branches. Foliage sways.

Drizzle descends, a gentle mist.
Plants and flowers are softly kissed.
A watering doth thus persist,
in garden, meadow and forest.

Light showers brush away the dust,
which settles with each swirling gust.
Moisture seeping into earth’s crust.
All elements have got it sussed.

poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes

Demystified for M' lady Cate

The mist persists, it will insist
it has the right to block the light
with trailing wisps of dirty white.

The mist is wrong and it will learn
to leave when it has served its turn
Because the sun will rise and burn

the remnants of the mist away
There is no way that it can stay
once the bright sun comes out to play.

The mist defeated has to go.
It leaves reluctantly and slow
but where it goes I do not know.

It will return with fall of night
lurk in the darkness hid from sight.
Unless outlined by the moonlight.

The silver light makes it appear
to be the ghosts which cause men fear.
But they will quickly disappear

When banks of cloud obscure the light.
Be re-absorbed into the night.
to their dismay but men’s delight.

The mists persist they wont desist
as long as day and night exist
and if they did they would be missed.

The moisture which the mist supply
the plants trees drink thirstily.
Without the mists some plants would die.

1-Jun-08

http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet: The Wind

What shakes the trees so violently? ’Tis Wind;
What moves the clouds hither/ thither? ’Tis Wind;
What takes the tornado around? ’Tis Wind;
What brings the sandstorm on the earth? ’Tis Wind.

What makes the cool and gentle breeze? ’Tis Wind
What makes the boughs and leaves to dance? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the autumn leaves to fall? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the honey-bees to fly? ’Tis Wind.

What makes pollen reach in showers? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the dust to climb towers? ’Tis Wind;
What spreads the perfume of flowers? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the rain-clouds advance far? ’Tis Wind.

What makes the Wind to blow? ’Tis God;
What makes a Tempest stop? ’ Tis our Lord.

7-18-2001

poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Whispering Breeze

A soft, whispering breeze, stirs the leaves on the trees,
And then suddenly, a gust, lifts the dry settled dust,
Things start moving about, and now there's no doubt,
That a storm's on the way, coming in from the bay.

So it's shutters up folks, there's no time now, for jokes,
Batten down all things loose, and bring in the old goose,
Or she'll screech out in fright. Now hold her quite tight.
There, the rain has begun, and the winds having fun.

It'll hang around for a bit, so we'll just wait and sit,
Until all's calm once again, with the going of the rain,
Clouds will part, sun will peep, and the foliage weep,
And a soft, whispering breeze, will stir the leaves on the trees.

poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Early Morning Breeze

I open up my door to greet the early morning sun
Closing it behind me and away I do run
To the meadow where the meadow lark is singing in the tree
In the meadow I go walking in the early morning breeze
I cup my hands to catch a multi-colored butterfly
Perched upon the petals of flowers growing wild
Freeing it I watch it as it flies away from me
To visit with the flowers in the early morning breeze
Chorus:
Rainbow colored flowers kissed with early morning sun
The aster and the dahlia and wild geraniums
Drops of morning due still linger on the iris leaves
In the meadow where Im walking in the early morning breeze
Misty-eyed I look about the meadow where I stray
For its there I find the courage to greet the coming day
For there among the flowers I kneel gently to my knees
To have a word with God in the early mornig breeze
2nd chorus:
A rainbow colored meadow kissed with early morning sun
The aster and the dahlia and wild geraniums
Drops of morning due still linger on the iris leaves
In the meadow where Im walking in the early morning breez

song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The July Sky

The sky is pouring all day long,
Water from it's pitch dark pot.
The trees, plants and shrubs so got
Relieved from that scorching hot.
Ah! they said to each other-
Rain is blessings, is not it?
How could one live, happily,
In such painful burning heat?
They all chat and smile and crackle.
Flowers let out sweet fragrance,
The faded greenness then chuckle-
As raindrops start their ballet dance.
We should take rest, can work no more-
The Nimbus clouds discuss with friends,
They labored hard throughout the day.
The lightning, mapping all clouds' ends,
Taking metal scale, he rubs on sky,
Announces-all clouds must take a row.
Whose tasks are left, they stay for now,
The white ones make queue, you can go.
Hearing these words, clouds do the same.
Drizzle starts and blows soothing breeze.
Clouds go back, ending their long game,
The earth, shakes hand with smiling trees

poem by Nilakshi Das
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Memories

I remember my father’s garden
Roses grew in full bloom behind the maple tree
That has always been there, in my memory,
Its trunk seemed golden
Beneath the light of the moon and stars in the evening and
At dawn, it would capture the rays of the sun,
Turning copper beneath the shadows cast by the mountains;
I have always adored the nighttime hours-
The stars seemed magical to me, glistening within the darkness and
The moon brings me peace of mind, quietly sleeping,
As its gentle rays illuminated the sky, giving just enough light
So I could see the roses, trees and wildflowers that decorated my father’s garden.
My father passed away twenty years ago and
I can recall his love for nature and his passion for the silence of the evening hours-
So much like mine-so many memories have escaped me but
I can still hear his laughter ringing throughout the valley near our home,
And every time I look upward toward the moon at twilight,
I can nearly see his smile shining through its muted light-
As a gentle breeze would blow, rustling the leaves upon the trees-
It would remind me that my father’s soul is still alive-
I see his face in every rose and his hands grasping the branches on the trees-
And I have always believed that even though people die and
Though their bodies may never be seen again,
The love and recollection of their spirits remain
In the places that they so loved-
My father’s home was in his garden amongst the maple trees, roses and wildflowers, and
In my innermost thoughts, it is there where he remains- and
Every day and every night, when I walk amongst the trees and flowers
I can hear his voice calling my name and in my heart I know
He can still hear my voice and see my face, as in the light of the moon and stars-
We shall be bonded in spirit for an eternity.

Claudia Krizay

poem by Claudia Krizay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mystical Nature!

Morning dew glows with the kiss of Sunshine
Awakened by the touch of the rays, grass shine
Beauty so mesmerising, sublime and Divine
As day progresses, mist must become refine

As Night falls, chilling winds bring in dewdrops
Dew again covers all flowers, grass and crops
Waiting for Sun to come and warm the props
Only then, the melting starts and freezing stops

Dewdrops wait for sublimation, Sun waits for the absorption
Merging into each other is a true reflection of Divine Unification
Breeze brings Dew from clouds in Sky onto Earth for Sun, Creation
Life cycle rotates, All Five elements work together to perfection

Cool Nights and Warm Days
Mysterious are Nature's Ways.

poem by Manjeshwari P MYSORE
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Through A Transparent Tear...

a night of drumming rain
woke up into an unusually
fresh winter morning
of drizzle and tickling breeze
laced by lazy chillness
the languid nerves of the night
looked for some stirring to
help them out of a tempting bed...

a breeze brushing past the sea
a breeze traversing across
the imposing dolphin's nose
a breeze caressing the leaves
buds and flowers even in earthen
pots laden heavy absorbing
the live long passion of the clouds
a breeze filling all that it touched
on the little bit of earth around me
a breeze pervading my little sky
caused me come alive...

how is it possible, i wondered
insulated as i was from the
animate and the inanimate
on the otherside with equal vogour

i looked around my accustomed
emptiness in wonder
trying to find the source

need i tell you
the source revealed itself
as your breath on me?

the heart that came alive
on this winter morning
of drizzle and breeze
shed a tear of longing
even while my body
smiled...

12nov2009
08.05hrs

poem by Indira Babbellapati
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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July Sky

ORIGINAL

poem by Nilakshi Das
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The children of the Mist

Through the valleys, softly creeping
‘Mid the tree-tops, tempest-tossed,
see the cloud-forms seeking, peeping
For the loved ones that are lost.
Not for storm or sunshine resting,
Will they slacken or desist,
Or grow weary in their questing
For the children of the mist.

Where are those children hiding?
Surely they will soon return,
In the gorge again abiding
‘Mid the myrtle and the fern.
Ah! the dusky forms departed
Nevermore will keep their tryst,
And the clouds, alone, sad-hearted,
mourn the Children of the Mist.

E’en the wild bush-creatures, scattered,
Ere they die renew their race,
And the pine, by levin shattered,
Leaves an heir to take his place.
Though each forest thing, forth stealing,
Year by year the clouds have kissed,
Vainly are those white arms feeling
For the children of the mist.

Dead the race, beyond awaking,
Ere its task was well begun;
Human hearts that throbbed to breaking
Are but dust beneath the sun.
Past all dreams of vengeance-wreaking,
Blown where’er the tempests list.
. . . . . . . .

But the cloud-forms still are seeking
For the children of the mist.

poem by Frank Dalby Davison
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Instruction

From heaven descend the drops of dew,
From heaven the gracious showers,
Earth's winter aspect to renew,
And clothe the spring with flowers;
From heaven the beams of morning flow,
That melt the gloom of night;
From heaven the evening breezes blow
Health, fragrance, and delight.

Like genial dew, like fertile showers,
The words of wisdom fall,
Awaken man's unconscious powers,
Like morning beams, they strike the mind,
Its loveliness reveals;
And softly then the evening wind
The wounded spirit heals.

As dew and rain, as light and air,
From heaven instruction came;
The waste of nature to repair,
Kindle a sacred flame;
A flame to purify the earth,
Exalt her sons on high,
And train them for their second birth,
Their birth beyond the sky.

poem by James Montgomery
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An August Morning At Upper Gully

The smoke from the chimneys curled down in the sky
And it's colder and wetter than 'twas in July
And fog o'er the forest a blanket of gray
And darkening rain clouds more showers on the way.

The currawongs calling the dark birds of rain
And into the station roars the city bound train
And cars on the highway racing to and fro
And down the high woodlands the chilly winds blow.

At 7 a.m. and the temperatures low
And it's cold in upper Gully cold enough to snow
Yet on this bleak morning great beauty i see
Bright yellow flowers blooming on the wattle tree.

Their loud cackling laughter one could not mistake
And they call through the morning just after daybreak
On the higher branches of old mountain gray
The kookaburras herald a cold Winter's day.

Three weeks left in August and Spring is so near
On this perhaps the coldest day of the year
And dark rain clouds gather in bleak morning sky
And it's colder and wetter than 'twas in July.

poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nature's Sellout

Nature's Sellout
By Lori Triggs
Copyrighted August 26,2009

A sprinkling of sunshine to sellout on the plants
While mother nature wrapped up in her shawl,
She is watching nature’s splendors around her...
It really is a paradise:

A paradise of mother nature
From earths dust on nature’s crust.

The dewy drops on mushroom caps
Are nothing less than mother nature tears,
From rolling laughter... it’s perhaps:
Mother nature with claps of thunder with lighting.

Are mother nature tears throughout the years
The crystal glow in woodland streams.

Reflects the light of mother nature
Instead of sunshine, as it seems,
When mother nature showers fall to earth:
When mother nature falls to the earth.

It seems like sunshine on the streams
The twinkling in the starry sky.

Is nothing less than mother nature
That interrupt the flares on high,
The glow of nature’s moonlit blinks:
The moonlit blinks are mother nature
That twinkle high in starry sky.

poem by Lori Triggs
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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April Rain

The April rain, the April rain,
Comes slanting down in fitful showers,
Then from the furrow shoots the grain,
And banks are fledged with nestling flowers;
And in grey shaw and woodland bowers
The cuckoo through the April rain
Calls once again.

The April sun, the April sun,
Glints through the rain in fitful splendour,
And in grey shaw and woodland dun
The little leaves spring forth and tender
Their infant hands, yet weak and slender,
For warmth towards the April sun,
One after one.

And between shower and shine hath birth
The rainbow's evanescent glory;
Heaven's light that breaks on mists of earth!
Frail symbol of our human story,
It flowers through showers where, looming hoary,
The rain-clouds flash with April mirth,
Like Life on earth.

poem by Mathilde Blind
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Summer Wind

It is a sultry day; the sun has drank
The dew that lay upon the morning grass,
There is no rustling in the lofty elm
That canopies my dwelling, and its shade
Scarce cools me. All is silent, save the faint
And interrupted murmur of the bee,
Settling on the sick flowers, and then again
Instantly on the wing. The plants around
Feel the too potent fervors; the tall maize
Rolls up its long green leaves; the clover droops
Its tender foliage, and declines its blooms.
But far in the fierce sunshine tower the hills,
With all their growth of woods, silent and stern,
As if the scortching heat and dazzling light
Were but an element they loved. Bright clouds,
Motionless pillars of the brazen heaven;--
Their bases on the mountains--their white tops
Shining in the far ether--fire the air
With a reflected radiance, and make turn
The gazer's eye away. For me, I lie
Languidly in the shade, where the thick turf,
Yet virgin from the kisses of the sun,
Retains some freshness, and I woo the wind
That still delays its coming. Why so slow,
Gentle and voluble spirit of the air?
Oh, come and breathe upon the fainting earth
Coolness and life. Is it that in his caves
He hears me? See, on yonder woody ridge,
The pine is bending his proud top, and now,
Among the nearer groves, chesnut and oak
Are tossing their green boughs about. He comes!
Lo, where the grassy meadow runs in wives!
The deep distressful silence of the scene
Breaks up with mingling of unnumbered sounds
And universal motion. He is come,
Shaking a shower of blossoms from the shrubs,
And bearing on the fragrance; and he brings
Music of birds, and rustling of young boughs,
And soun of swaying branches, and the voice
Of distant waterfalls. All the green herbs
Are stirring in his breath; a thousand flowers,
By the road-side and the borders of the brook,
Nod gaily to each other; glossy leaves
Are twinkling in the sun, as if the dew
Were on them yet, and silver waters break
Into small waves and sparkle as he comes.

poem by William Cullen Bryant
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Sun

Always watching, never seeing,

Never living, always being,

Sky is my domain, clouds hinder me in vain,

My friend is the rain, over mist and rainbows I reign,

I give the earth life and make plants grow,

I run and hide every day you know,

Without my shine your days are numbered,

Thinking you can survive alone would be a blunder,

I may not be God or a deity but that's how some see me,

What would you do if you had to be me,

Would you keep watching as people ruin my Earth,

This planet thrived until these people's birth,

You could scorch them and burn them or kill them,

I choose to keep sending my warm rays upon them,

It's up to the people to do what's right,

Until then I'll always shine my light.

poem by Ruik Caldorn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nacken - Water Demon

The evening is festooned with golden clouds
the fairies dance in the meadow
and the leaf-crowned Nacken
plays his fiddle in the silvery brook.
Little boy in the brush on the bank
resting in the violet vapor
hears the noise from the chilly water
calls out in the still night.

"Poor old fellow, why do you play?
will it take the pain away?
you bring the woods and the fields to life
but you'll never be a child of God.

Paradise's moonlit nights
eden's flower-crowned plains
angels of the light on high--
never to be beheld by your eye."

Tears stream down the old man's face
down he dives into the rapids
the fiddle silences.
And the Nacken will never
play again in the silvery brook.

poem by Erik Johan Stagnelius
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The 'Poem A Day' Project ~ Day 221

January is too soon here
A damp and cold start to the year
February follows on
With snow and ice that’s seldom gone
March appears next in line
And down comes rain all the time
April showers now are due
Lasting the whole month through
May and showers still persist
Bringing frost and fog and mist
June gets hot, insanely so
Everyone’s red and aglow
July bring chills mixed with hot
You’re never sure just what you’ve got
August the sun is up and bold
But the wind still keeps it cold
September the drizzle and ice is back
Keeping up a relentless attack
October’s colder so I hide
With a hot drink and stay inside
November sees your breath in the air
And colds and sneezes everywhere
December’s cold but brings some cheer
Then bloody January’s here

poem by Flying Lemming
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cheery Year