This Scene I Love
With a canopy of leaves high above my head,
I raise my eyes and see sunlit green and skies.
To this enraptured place my sad heart will return.
My footsteps make little sound, tramping the ground.
Occasionally a twig snaps beneath my boot,
alerting creatures, the singers and screechers.
They vanish off so very fast, with fear and dread.
A giant, me, thundering through harebells blue,
breaking all the new fronds in wild clusters of fern.
Disrupting the lives of insects, with dire affects.
Making the wise owl give out his warning hoot,
to all in this vicinity, who wish to flee.
There is rustling in this wood, where I’m calmly stood,
Just thrush and pigeon, chattering a smidgen,
as they fly into the high canopy above,
where sunlit leaves of green, bless, this scene I love.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
When Green Leaves Come again
WHEN green leaves come again, my love,
When green leaves come again,--
Why put on such a cloudy face,
When green leaves come again?
'Ah, this spring will be like the last,
Of promise false and vain;
And summer die in winter's arms
Ere green leaves come again.
'So slip the seasons--and our lives;
'T is idle to complain:
But yet I sigh, I scarce know why,
When green leaves come again.'
Nay, lift up thankful eyes, my sweet!
Count equal, lost and gain:
Because, as long as the world lasts,
Green leaves will come again.
For, sure as earth lives under snows,
And Love lives under pain,
'T is good to sing with everything,
'When green leaves come again.'
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
On a Line from Valéry (The Gulf War)
The whole green sky is dying.The last tree flares
With a great burst of supernatural rose
Under a canopy of poisonous airs.
Could we imagine our return to prayers
To end in time before time's final throes,
The green sky dying as the last tree flares?
But we were young in judgement, old in years
Who could make peace; but it was war we chose,
To spread its canopy of poisoning airs.
Not all our children's pleas and women's fears
Could steer us from this hell.And now God knows
His whole green sky is dying as it flares.
Our crops of wheat have turned to fields of tares.
This dreadful century staggers to its close
And the sky dies for us, its poisoned heirs.
All rain was dust.Its granules were our tears.
Throats burst as universal winter rose
To kill the whole green sky, the last tree bare
Beneath its canopy of poisoned air.
poem by Carolyn Kizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To Our Delight
I snapped a twig beneath my shoe,
and a startled bird flew o’er my head.
Crisp leaves were sprinkled on their tops with dew,
coloured, each one, in an autumnal hue,
and thickly spread.
Across the park, beneath the trees,
helped by the breeze, they’d descended down.
Carpeting the ground with a cushioned layer.
A splendid scene of such impressive flair,
in shades of brown.
A squirrel always so alert,
stood, rigid, inert and listened hard.
Then with an impish look made fast retreat,
by scuttling off, his tasty nuts to eat,
but still on guard.
Silence fell, no sound pierced the ear,
nothing to hear, quiet peace serene.
Then rutting stags called out to their new mates,
each bellow from a powerful throat vibrates,
their passions keen.
Strange that a twig beneath my toes,
can scatter the sparrows into instant flight.
In a fragile locale these creatures dwell,
to them it’s home and therefore they excel,
To our delight.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Green Leaves and Sere
Three tall poplars beside the pool
Shiver and moan in the gusty blast,
The carded clouds are blown like wool,
And the yellowing leaves fly thick and fast.
The leaves, now driven before the blast,
Now flung by fits on the curdling pool,
Are tossed heaven-high and dropped at last
As if at the whim of a jabbering fool.
O leaves, once rustling green and cool!
Two met here where one moans aghast
With wild heart heaving towards the past:
Three tall poplars beside the pool.
poem by Mathilde Blind
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Haunted Haven
Beyond the woods
The branching oak and canopy of leaves still abide
The bench is there
The leaves still fall
The cree still flows beneath the trees
The difference is
The oak is baren
The shiny bench is covered in moss
The leaves now lie beneath my feet
The place now lacks the presence of life
Though our laughter still echoes
Haunting the place of our childhood haven
poem by Humna Hamid
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet: Nature Heals Itself
Just when I thought the tree was surely dead,
New leaves began to sprout up once again;
And soon, it wore a green crown on its head;
It had been resurrected by the rain!
Dumb-founded, astonished, perplexed I stood!
The tree that was deemed dead now was alive;
A canopy of green covered the wood,
And made me happy for the tree was live!
What a remarkable feat of Nature!
Impossible a task, it had performed;
Never underestimate her stature;
If left to man, the tree would have been harmed.
Thou art thine own healer, Nature Mother!
Can a human do than thee much better?
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In Sanctuary
THE young Spring air was strong like wine,
The sky reflected in your eyes
Was of a blue as deep-divine
As ever glowed in southern skies.
We passed from out the sunny lane
Into the green wood's shadowing;
And, sudden, all Love's words seemed vain
In that calm temple of the Spring.
Our god hears fair and tuneful words,
And splendid flowers his altars bear;
With choric song of leaves and birds,
Another god was worshipped there.
Silent, we passed the woodland, through
The coloured maze that Springtime weaves--
The light leaves dancing to the blue,
The sunlight dancing to the leaves;
I could not speak. I touched your hand
At the green arch that ends the wood:
'Ah--if she should not understand!'
Ah--if you had not understood!
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Canopy
We all live under a canopy
of hope, hate, love and lies.
The canopy gets bigger
every day within our lives.
We walk through the world
each day brings new things
that come under our canopy.
5 February 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Holly-Tree
O reader! hast thou ever stood to see
The Holly-tree?
The eye that contemplates it well perceives
Its glossy leaves
Ordered by an Intelligence so wise
As might confound the Atheist's sophistries.
Below, a circling fence, its leaves are seen,
Wrinkled and keen;
No grazing cattle, through their prickly round,
Can reach to wound;
But, as they grow where nothing is to fear,
Smooth and unarmed the pointless leaves appear.
I love to view these things with curious eyes,
And moralize;
And in this wisdom of the Holly-tree
Can emblem see
Wherewith, perchance, to make a pleasant rhyme, -
One which may profit in the after-time.
Thus, though abroad, perchance, I might appear
Harsh and austere;
To those who on my leisure would intrude,
Reserved and rude;
Gentle at home amid my friends I'd be,
Like the high leaves upon the Holly-tree.
And should my youth - as youth is apt, I know, -
Some harshness show,
All vain asperities I, day by day,
Would wear away,
Till the smooth temper of my age should be
Like the high leaves upon the Holly-tree.
And as, when all the summer trees are seen
So bright and green,
The Holly-leaves their fadeless hues display
Less bright than they;
But when the bare and wintry woods we see,
What then so cheerful as the Holly-tree? -
So, serious should my youth appear among
The thoughtless throng;
So would I seem, amid the young and gay,
More grave than they;
That in my age as cheerful I might be
As the green winter of the Holly-tree.
poem by Robert Southey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Whirl-Blast from Behind The Hill
A Whirl-Blast from behind the hill
Rushed o'er the wood with startling sound;
Then--all at once the air was still,
And showers of hailstones pattered round.
Where leafless oaks towered high above,
I sat within an undergrove
Of tallest hollies, tall and green;
A fairer bower was never seen.
From year to year the spacious floor
With withered leaves is covered o'er,
And all the year the bower is green.
But see! where'er the hailstones drop
The withered leaves all skip and hop;
There's not a breeze--no breath of air--
Yet here, and there, and everywhere
Along the floor, beneath the shade
By those embowering hollies made,
The leaves in myriads jump and spring,
As if with pipes and music rare
Some Robin Good-fellow were there,
And all those leaves, in festive glee,
Were dancing to the minstrelsy.
poem by William Wordsworth
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Renda Writer - Colors
Mismanagement damages the fabrics
Woven by the chosen few
The pointing finger chose you
Red light special
Code blue
Blue light special
Red light
Stop
Green go
Green money
Green grasso
Green leaves
Then the green leaves
Unless we start living green
Green seems
To be common
The common theme
The common ground
Is color
We're all brothers from another mother smothered by
The sun and the sky
Everything under the sun has not yet been done
And why?
poem by Renda Writer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
It Is A Lovely Day
The parks and paddocks lush and green wildflowers bloom by the roadway
And birds are singing in the wood it is a lovely day
A forecast low of nineteen and a high of twenty three
And pink flowers in large clusters on the rhododendron tree,
Were I a poet I'd write a sonnet for today that would live on in time
But good poets are few or so 'twould seem in blank verse or in rhyme
For to be able to pen a sonnet to this day joy to others would bring
When Mother Nature is in bloom in the prime of the Spring,
The wattle birds are calling on the sunlit banksia trees
And there is a cool freshness in the freshening coastal breeze
And dark winged welcome swallows chirping as above the park they fly
All through the day they circle to and fro across the sky
And willy wagtail with his wagging tail is chasing flies and bees
And the sunlit park sounds happy with the songs of the pee wees.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Dead Leaves
When these dead leaves were green, love,
November's skies were blue,
And summer came with lips aflame,
The gentle spring to woo;
And to us, wandering hand in hand,
Life was a fairy scene,
That golden morning in the woods
When these dead leaves were green!
How dream-like now that dewy morn,
Sweet with the wattle's flowers,
When love, love, love was all our theme,
And youth and hope were ours!
Two happier hearts in all the land
There were not then, I ween,
Than those young lovers' -- yours and mine --
When these dead leaves were green.
How gaily did you pluck these leaves
From the acacia's bough,
To mark the lyric we had read --
I can repeat it now!
While came the words, like music sweet,
Your smiling lips between --
"So fold my love within your heart,"
When these dead leaves were green!
How many springs have passed since then?
Ah, wherefore should we count,
The years that sped, like waters fled
From Time's unstaying fount?
We've had our share of happiness,
Our share of care have seen;
But love alone has never flown
Since these dead leaves were green.
Your heart is kind and loving still,
Your face to me as fair,
As when, that morn, the sunshine played
Amid your golden hair.
So, dearest, sweethearts still we'll be,
As we have ever been,
And keep our love as fresh and true
As when these leaves were green.
poem by Edward Booth Loughran
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Reminiscing Under A Tree
Under this shade where love once bloom
Lies part of me that's now been lost
And now, found in my thoughts of gloom
Where lonesome pain exacts its cost
The heart and arrow carved in bark
Bring back the days of sunlit bliss
When we would sing as one, like lark
Than be as thieves stealing a kiss
The leaves that fell meant time had passed
Since they'd been fresh before the clash
Leaves collected like dreams amassed
Down in the ground burnt down like trash
A sprout can find a twig whereto it cleaves
As love might bloom again this Spring
Which comes as soon as Winter leaves
When soon I'll find new songs to sing.
poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In The Shade Of The Green Wood
In the shade of the green wood
The holly does grow,
While in soft rays of sunlight
The wild roses glow,
And I smell their sweet perfume
That gently floats by,
Past trees strong and mighty
That reach to the sky,
The pathway of gold autumn
Leaves still remain,
As I walk through the green wood again.
In the shade of the green wood
This bright sunny morn,
That's so cool in the shadows
A new day is born,
All the birds in the treetops
Are singing for me,
Sweet songs of the summer
Which fill me with glee,
And know from its beauty
I never shall part,
For the green wood does live in my heart.
In the shade of the green wood
A soft gentle breeze,
Now caresses the branches
And whispers through trees,
A sound reassuring
Shall carry me to,
All the scenes that exist
In each marvellous view,
It's here that my spirit
Shall always now stay,
And the green wood is guiding my way.
poem by Andrew Blakemore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Let Me Die In My Footsteps
I will not go down under the ground
Cause somebody tells me that deaths comin round
An I will not carry myself down to die
When I go to my grave my head will be high,
Let me die in my footsteps
Before I go down under the ground.
Theres been rumors of war and wars that have been
The meaning of the life has been lost in the wind
And some people thinkin that the end is close by
Stead of learnin to live they are learning to die.
Let me die in my footsteps
Before I go down under the ground.
I dont know if Im smart but I think I can see
When someone is pullin the wool over me
And if this war comes and deaths all around
Let me die on this land fore I die underground.
Let me die in my footsteps
Before I go down under the ground.
Theres always been people that have to cause fear
Theyve been talking of the war now for many long years
I have read all their statements and Ive not said a word
But now lawd god, let my poor voice be heard.
Let me die in my footsteps
Before I go down under the ground.
If I had rubies and riches and crowns
Id buy the whole world and change things around
Id throw all the guns and the tanks in the sea
For they are mistakes of a past history.
Let me die in my footsteps
Before I go down under the ground.
Let me drink from the waters where the mountain streams flood
Let me smell of wildflowers flow free through my blood
Let me sleep in your meadows with the green grassy leaves
Let me walk down the highway with my brother in peace.
Let me die in my footsteps
Before I go down under the ground.
Go out in your country where the land meets the sun
See the craters and the canyons where the waterfalls run
Nevada, new mexico, arizona, idaho
Let every state in this union seep in your souls.
And youll die in your footsteps
Before you go down under the ground.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
My Drug Dealer
Today-
I asked myself.
Why are the oak tree’s purple?
And the grass blue?
Why is the sky green?
And the leaves hot pink?
Why is that gravel red?
And the rocks of that garden yellow?
Then I thought
and thought over again
a million times
and realized...
I’m high.
I’m up higher than the orange clouds in the green sky
My heart is as bright as the rocks of that garden
My thoughts are as eccentric as the hot pink color of the leaves
that fell from the purple tree
My eyelashes flutter flirtatiously like the way the wind
blows the blue blades of grass around.
Love is a drug,
and I’m high-
You happen to be my dealer.
poem by Breanna Schwartz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Blue Wall / Green Wall
What comes to my mind when I see a green wall?
A green wall reminds me of the grass so green
And the emerald most rarely seen
A green wall reminds me of the leaves so green
And a forest where I have never been
A green wall reminds me of trees with a lot of shade
And the fresh vegetables kept for trade.
What comes to my mind when I see a blue wall?
It reminds me of the sea so blue
I feel like jumping in it too
A blue wall reminds me of the blue sky
You can’t touch it cause it’s very high
A blue wall reminds me of the deep blue bear
It is very dangerous so beware
A blue wall reminds me of a blue whale
To reach it from the shore you have to sail.
poem by Risha Ahmed
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Memory For To Cherish
White butterflies are dancing in the warm evening breeze
And the house sparrows are chirping on the sunlit garden trees
On a warm day in April in the far Southern Fall
Of the Southern Land's four Seasons the most pleasant one of all,
I love this Autumn weather and though Winter days are near
One has to say of April 'tis a pleasant time of year
Above the sunlit paddock to and fro across the sunlit sky
The dark winged welcome swallows chasing flying insects fly,
With his tail ever wagging perched on a garden wall
The black and white fantail or willy wagtail a bird that's known to all
Always on the look out for insects airborne or on the ground
Where willy wagtails are present insects sure to abound,
Of this sunny late April evening in the far Southern Fall
A memory for to cherish and a memory to recall.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Colors Passing Through Us
Purple as tulips in May, mauve
into lush velvet, purple
as the stain blackberries leave
on the lips, on the hands,
the purple of ripe grapes
sunlit and warm as flesh.
Every day I will give you a color,
like a new flower in a bud vase
on your desk. Every day
I will paint you, as women
color each other with henna
on hands and on feet.
Red as henna, as cinnamon,
as coals after the fire is banked,
the cardinal in the feeder,
the roses tumbling on the arbor
their weight bending the wood
the red of the syrup I make from petals.
Orange as the perfumed fruit
hanging their globes on the glossy tree,
orange as pumpkins in the field,
orange as butterflyweed and the monarchs
who come to eat it, orange as my
cat running lithe through the high grass.
Yellow as a goat's wise and wicked eyes,
yellow as a hill of daffodils,
yellow as dandelions by the highway,
yellow as butter and egg yolks,
yellow as a school bus stopping you,
yellow as a slicker in a downpour.
Here is my bouquet, here is a sing
song of all the things you make
me think of, here is oblique
praise for the height and depth
of you and the width too.
Here is my box of new crayons at your feet.
Green as mint jelly, green
as a frog on a lily pad twanging,
the green of cos lettuce upright
about to bolt into opulent towers,
green as Grand Chartreuse in a clear
glass, green as wine bottles.
Blue as cornflowers, delphiniums,
bachelors' buttons. Blue as Roquefort,
blue as Saga. Blue as still water.
Blue as the eyes of a Siamese cat.
Blue as shadows on new snow, as a spring
azure sipping from a puddle on the blacktop.
Cobalt as the midnight sky
when day has gone without a trace
and we lie in each other's arms
eyes shut and fingers open
and all the colors of the world
pass through our bodies like strings of fire.
poem by Marge Piercy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!