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
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Related quotes
Beechwoods at Knole
How do I love you, beech-trees, in the autumn,
Your stone-grey columns a cathedral nave
Processional above the earth's brown glory!
I was a child, and I loved the knurly tangle
Of roots that coiled above a scarp like serpents,
Where I might hide my treasure with the squirrels.
I was a child, and splashed my way in laughter
Through drifts of leaves, where underfoot the beech-nuts
Split with crisp crackle to my great rejoicing.
Red are the beechen slopes below Shock Tavern,
Red is the bracken on the sandy Furze-field,
Red are the stags and hinds by Bo-Pit Meadows,
The rutting stags that nightly through the beechwoods
Bell out their challenge, carrying their antlers
Proudly beneath the antlered autumn branches.
I was a child, and heard the red deer's challenge
Prowling and belling underneath my window,
Never a cry so haughty or so mournful.
poem by Victoria Sackville-West
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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
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After a Tempest
The day had been a day of wind and storm;--
The wind was laid, the storm was overpast,--
And stooping from the zenith, bright and warm
Shone the great sun on the wide earth at last.
I stood upon the upland slope and cast
My eye upon a broad and beauteous scene,
Where the vast plain lay girt by mountains vast,
And hills o'er hills lifted their heads of green,
With pleasant vales scooped out and villages between.
The rain-drops glistened on the trees around,
Whose shadows on the tall grass were not stirred,
Save when a shower of diamonds, to the ground,
Was shaken by the flight of startled bird;
For birds were warbling round, and bees were heard
About the flowers; the cheerful rivulet sung
And gossiped, as he hastened ocean-ward;
To the gray oak the squirrel, chiding clung,
And chirping from the ground the grasshopper upsprung.
And from beneath the leaves that kept them dry
Flew many a glittering insect here and there,
And darted up and down the butterfly,
That seemed a living blossom of the air.
The flocks came scattering from the thicket, where
The violent rain had pent them; in the way
Strolled groups of damsels frolicksome and fair;
The farmer swung the scythe or turned the hay,
And 'twixt the heavy swaths his children were at play.
It was a scene of peace--and, like a spell,
Did that serene and golden sunlight fall
Upon the motionless wood that clothed the fell,
And precipice upspringing like a wall,
And glassy river and white waterfall,
And happy living things that trod the bright
And beauteous scene; while far beyond them all,
On many a lovely valley, out of sight,
Was poured from the blue heavens the same soft golden light.
I looked, and thought the quiet of the scene
An emblem of the peace that yet shall be,
When, o'er earth's continents and isles between,
The noise of war shall cease from sea to sea,
And married nations dwell in harmony;
When millions, crouching in the dust to one,
No more shall beg their lives on bended knee,
Nor the black stake be dressed, nor in the sun
The o'erlabored captive toil, and wish his life were done.
Too long, at clash of arms amid her bowers
And pools of blood, the earth has stood aghast,
The fair earth, that should only blush with flowers
And ruddy fruits; but not for aye can last
The storm, and sweet the sunshine when 'tis past.
Lo, the clouds roll away--they break--they fly,
And, like the glorious light of summer, cast
O'er the wide landscape from the embracing sky,
On all the peaceful world the smile of heaven shall lie.
poem by William Cullen Bryant
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Quiteness
I walked into the forest
Which laid as quite as the night
With many mighty trees standing
Which blocked out the sunlight.
Quietness was all around
Serene was the only sound
Nature was fast asleep
Until I notice a falling leaf.
Were the hills there wide awake
As she has always been
And no one, not even I knew it
Except for God, and the wind.
But then I stepped upon a twig
And it cried beneath my feet,
Then I awoke the poems in the hills
Which had laid, so very, very still.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Descry
I stood in a grand wood alone
whispering to God upon his throne:
' Is it truly true
nothing is more powerful
than magnificent You? '
Then, I stood by the great ocean
and whispered to God:
'Can You hear me above the roar?
How will You find me,
my footprints have washed away all along the shore? '
Finally, I stood upon the highest mountain top
and whispered to God:
'Can you see me now,
the mere speck that I am,
even just a glimpse, somehow? '
No reply came.
Not in words
I could hear.
No powerful voice
loud and clear.
I waited
'til the end
of day.
Then quietly, alone,
I simply walked away.
On my way home
travelling into the dusk,
a desert I did pass through
with a quiet and lonely
darkened view.
Nothing moved,
not a sound.
Except, for the slightest breeze
whisper wonders my way,
through the tops of a few scraggly trees.
I stoped
I looked
I stood.
Amazed at this wind
passing by through the twisted and bent woods.
It was at that moment
in the darkness,
at the edge of desolation, among the lowly trees,
that I became fully aware,
God is everywhere, even right here next to me.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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The Squirrel Said
The Squirrel said.
'Attention all! '
He stands tall.
On a wooden fence,
in suspense.
Their Squirrel Head,
Their squirrel said,
'My nuts are gone,
My nuts are gone! '
Did you check under your bed?
Another squirrel joking said,
'Of course I did! ' the squirrel said,
'I am the Squirrel head'.
Maybe you forgot you've ate,
Autumn now, it's not too late,
Just look for more, Squirrel Head,
An elderly wise squirrel said.
Bobbing
when the crow
lands on the twig
the weight
pushes the twig
down almost
reaching the ground
the bobbing
somewhat intrigues
the senses of the
caterpillar on the leaf
the tree frowns
upon a black alien
some leaves fall
and the grass as usual
keeps its silence
as the air passes by
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Acorn
The seed has started,—who can stay it? see,
The leaves are sprouting high above the ground;
Already o'er the flowers, its head; the tree
That rose beside it and that on it frowned,
Behold! is but a small bush by its side.
Still on! it cannot stop; its branches spread;
It looks o'er all the earth in giant pride.
The nations find upon its limbs their bread,
Its boughs their millions shelter from the heat,
Beneath its shade see kindreds, tongues, and all
That the wide world contains, they all retreat
Beneath the shelter of that acorn small
That late thou flung away; 'twas the best gift
That heaven e'er gave;—its head the low shall lift.
poem by Jones Very
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Love Profound
As she walks along barren ground,
Flowers develop beneath her feet
Yellow daffodils surround
And rise up from concrete
The air is the essence of holidays
Exuberance to all abounds
Through her magic gateway
Hear the melodious sounds
Electricity courses through me
Charged with shear delight
A kiss from her and I am free
To heaven, my heart takes flight
Like fairy dust sprinkled on my head
My feet never touch the ground
I am drowning but do not dread
For it is in her love profound.
poem by T.James Becker
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Fundamental of Liar Chapter XLII: What Lies Beneath
beauty lies beneath
sense lies beneath
secret lies beneath
character lies beneath
rule lies beneath
mind lies beneath
past lies beneath
foundation lies beneath
root lies beneath
dark hole lies beneath
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Subconciously
at the surface is a roy
could be roy something else
you face him
beneath a roy could be a jerry something
that you have met but could not fully
remember
you are determined not to be confused
and so you focus on the road that the the yellow bus is taking you
it is nothing but imagination
you are in the house
doing nothing because writing is actually nothing
beneath you is someone else and it
(a thing or something) is telling you what to write
you are not alarmed
it is nothing it is nothing but words and words are nothing
as a matter of familiarity
beneath your mind is the heart
beneath that heart are so many things
you try to enumerate names
and more names
and places
until you reach a certain marker, shades of red,
pathways of veins, flowing blood, all kept and contained
within the sound system
and then you look at your hands
beneath it
someone so lovely and beautiful
someone you desired for long
beneath you
and then you stop.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Beneath The Skin
Beneath the Skin a caustic red river
Beneath the Skin corrosive abuser
Beneath the Skin genetic in rupture
Beneath the Skin all cold and hungered
Beneath the Skin a still born forgiveness
Beneath the Skin cell transfer in whispers
Beneath the Skin a lover cries murder
Beneath the Skin all cold and hungered
Beneath the Skin i wasted this moment
Beneath the Skin old undiscovered
Beneath the Skin another lies ruptured
Beneath the Skin all cold and hungered
song performed by by Queen Adreena
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Goldmohur Smiles
Beneath the “Goldmohur” tree
black crows freely fly,
The blue sky with
shining black clouds
looks alluring and beautiful.
The weary peasants from the field
return home being mirthful.
Chilly breeze blows form south,
Creatures pleased, lovely looks the Earth.
With the breeze the golden flowers and green
leaves tutter;
Beneath the green tree tiny
birth twitter.
Setting sun ray falls on the lovely flower;
Lover’s mind enthuses with
delight, enthusiasm and pleasure;
Mysterious, glamorous, attracting
looks the creation.
Human mind becomes peaceful
and free from tention.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Autumn Leaves
Autumn leaves, in the trees
Falling to the ground
Colors of many, in the breeze
Of red and orange and brown.
Rainbow parks in the dark
Moonlight shimmers down
On the leaves, from the trees
Falling to the ground.
Lovers walk, hear them talk
To where Children played
See the beauty, and feel the warmth
From where nature stayed.
Barren trees, forgotten leaves
Another year gone by
All alone from a breeze
As the lovers softly cry.
Autumn leaves from the trees
Lying, on the ground
See the beauty, feel the warmth
And hear, autumns sound.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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A Sweet Landscape
Sweet was the scene! apart the cedars stood.
A sunny islet open'd in the wood;
With vernal tints the wild-brier as thicket glows,
For here the desert flourish'd as the rose;
From sapling trees with lucid foliage crown'd,
Gay lights and shadows twinkled on the ground:
Up the tall stems luxuriant creepers run
To hang their silver blossoms in the sun;
Deep velvet verdure clad the turf beneath,
Where trodden flowers their richest odours breathe;
O'er all, the bees with murmuring music flew
From bell to bell, to sip the treasured dew;
Whilst insect myriads in their solar gleams,
Glanced to and fro, like intermingling beams;
So fresh, so pure, the woods, the sky, the air,
It seem'd a place where angels might repair,
And tune their harps beneath those tranquil shades,
To morning songs or moonlight serenades!
poem by James Montgomery
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Hymn 80
An evening hymn.
Psa. 4:8; 3:5,6; 148:8.
Thus far the Lord has led me on,
Thus far his power prolongs my days;
And every evening shall make known
Some fresh memorial of his grace.
Much of my time has run to waste,
And I perhaps am near my home;
But he forgives my follies past,
He gives me strength for days to come.
I lay my body down to sleep,
Peace is the pillow for my head;
While well-appointed angels keep
Their watchful stations round my bed.
In vain the sons of earth or hell
Tell me a thousand frightful things
My God in safety makes me dwell
Beneath the shadow of his wings.
[Faith in his name forbids my fear;
O may thy presence ne'er depart!
And in the morning make me hear
The love and kindness of thy heart.
Thus when the night of death shall come,
My flesh shall rest beneath the ground,
And wait thy voice to rouse my tomb,
With sweet salvation in the sound.]
poem by Isaac Watts
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Absence
There is strange music in the stirring wind,
When lowers the autumnal eve, and all alone
To the dark wood's cold covert thou art gone,
Whose ancient trees on the rough slope reclined
Rock, and at times scatter their tresses sere.
If in such shades, beneath their murmuring,
Thou late hast passed the happier hours of spring,
With sadness thou wilt mark the fading year;
Chiefly if one, with whom such sweets at morn
Or evening thou hast shared, afar shall stray.
O Spring, return! return, auspicious May!
But sad will be thy coming, and forlorn,
If she return not with thy cheering ray,
Who from these shades is gone, far, far away.
poem by William Lisle Bowles
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What Is There
a worm inside the home
of its hollows
at night it sings and i can hear
its joys of
home and family
a bird rests on a twig of a tree
it sleeps beside the
quarter moon
the leaves are calm
respectful of the
silence
inside the room
i contemplate on this
perfection: nature in harmony
with the self
there is joy
indescribable
there is sorrow shared
in our solitude
there is this silence that
respects the earth
like the stars
in perpetual twinkle
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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New For Old
Bud blisters into life
Stretching for the light
Unfolding radiant green
Upturned palm to the sun
Life seeping in, breathing out
Green, Green so Green
Resurrected hope, so Green
Summer breeze stroking
Branches ebb and flow
Leaves so Green strong now
Fear not wind of change
Mellow summer turns
Green, green, green-yellow
Yellow area of dieing heart
Green lingers no more
Limp transparent yellow
Barely a breeze takes one
Fierce Hyde-like wind now
Cracking and ripping
Wind torn leaves fall
Life chords snapped
Death too early, still Green
Nourishment broken not ended
Seasons build up to tear down
To build up, to tear down
Leaves fall, Green leaves fall
And then some more
Until leaves are falling, falling
Trees and branches revealed
In the x-ray of autumn blast
Winter is coming
Winter is coming
Yellow pale yellow carpet
Beneath the naked tree
Yellow, mulchy brown
Once crisp leaves scatter
Green, yellow, transparent veins
Tired, half dead, leaves lose their grip
Join the autumn rain soaked mound
Providing new life to the roots
Old for new, New for Old
Seeds buried in death
Bring new life in Spring
In the end is the beginning.
poem by Adrian Wait
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Sound Of Silence
I sat within the sound of silence
remembering an old friend
who had passed over five years ago.
A breeze ruffled the trees
sending the blossom like snowflakes
to scatter on the ground.
The face of my old friend
drew images in my head
as I sat in the sound of silence.
24 May 2008
poem by David Harris
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