Warm, Balmy And Gentle Breezes
Warm breezes glide across an open space,
with such invisible grace,
as if they were off on a chase,
wafting softly against my face,
with urgency to win an endless race.
Balmy breezes flow between large dense trees,
with such a veritable ease,
and one can tell, they do as they please,
tickling the feet, the legs and knees,
with urgency there’s a longing to tease.
Gentle breezes pass smoothly on their way,
with such a persistence, they play,
for to them it’s just another day,
they cannot stop and cannot stay,
with urgency they ruffle the rosebay.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Where's The Urgency?
Shouldn't we have a true urgency, about this thing we call eternity?
While we are in this temporal time, to help change a thinking mind;
Shouldn't those in the Body of Christ, have an urgency in this life?
Urgency for family and friend, knowing that Grace could soon end!
Shouldn't Scripture move our heart, within this Age to do our part?
In leading more souls to the Faith, while it is still the Age of Grace;
Shouldn't we speak in a bolder way, of what Scripture has to say?
About the end, that faces all, peoples everywhere, great and small.
Shouldn't Scriptures in our heart, burden us with a desire to impart,
The Truths we find in God's Word, which so many, have not heard?
Truths that we're not only to read, but, Truths that we all must heed,
Truths that we all must embrace, moved by God's unmerited Grace.
Where is the urgency of our call, from Christ our Lord, to reach all?
With God's only Truth that saves, any soul from the coming waves,
Of Christ's soon Righteous Judgment; this is why we've been sent,
To reach all the spiritually lost, with God's saving Truth at any cost.
When we're rapture to God's Son, this Age of Grace shall be done,
With The Restrainer out of the way, God's Judgment, will not delay,
With strong delusion from on high, all men shall believe Satan's lie,
Not embracing God's Saving Truth, all shall see His strong reproof!
God's Judgment will be their end, whether they are family or friend,
For their refusing The Truth of Christ, they will never see eternal life,
So an urgency must fill our heart, before from this earth, we depart,
So that others can enter into eternity, as members of God's Family.
(Copyright ©05/2012)
Dark and Deadly
Dark and deadly are these pains that reside in my head,
One falters with chilly winds, the very cool friends,
Then the winds are breezes, more breezes to be bled.
Dust and dirt are elite elements for all the men with a bed,
One seeks misery when there is misery that attends,
Dark and deadly are these pains that reside in my head.
Mighty rivers applaud the taste of the truly bred,
One stays in a whole sea for the corn that defends,
Then the winds are breezes, more breezes to be bled.
When do waters boil? And where are the flowers dead?
One picks up plants forcing the very grand ends,
Dark and deadly are these pains that reside in my head.
The delirious means used by some are to what fed?
One of us mends hearts too fragile, one that bends,
Then the winds are breezes, more breezes to be bled.
A delightful method gains acceptance from those to imbed,
One’s agony seems too fair as the fairest intends,
Dark and deadly are these pains that reside in my head,
Then the winds are breezes, more breezes to be bled.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Swing high and swing low
Swing high and swing low
While the breezes they blow -
It's off for a sailor thy father would go;
And it's here in the harbor, in sight of the sea,
He hath left his wee babe with my song and with me:
"Swing high and swing low
While the breezes they blow!"
Swing high and swing low
While the breezes they blow -
It's oh for the waiting as weary days go!
And it's oh for the heartache that smiteth me when
I sing my song over and over again:
"Swing high and swing low
While the breezes they blow!"
"Swing high and swing low " -
The sea singeth so,
And it waileth anon in its ebb and its flow;
And a sleeper sleeps on to that song of the sea
Nor recketh he ever of mine or of me!
"Swing high and swing low
While the breezes they blow -
'T was off for a sailor thy father would go!"
poem by Eugene Field
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Lonely Wind
When I'm needin' a friend I can talk to the wind
God I sure am glad that I found him
Sometimes he seems to be the only one beside me
Who can feel the Lord's breath all around him
Winter's cold frozen ice or a bright autumn day
On a warm summer night you can hear him say
Cry for me, sigh for me, sad breezes flow
Stay for me, play for me, the song my friends will know
My lonely wind must blow
Mighty friend that is mine, can you give me a sign?
He'll leave nothing but only to hear him
I've seen the tall trees bend low when his mighty winds blow
And that's all the more reason I fear him
Hear him call for the earth lonely I can feel his great pain
But on the eve of this day
I'll join in his refrain
When I'm needing a friend I'll remember the wind
And my life here with the breezes of sorrow
I'll be leaving him soon 'cause I've got to make room
For the lonely that will find him tomorrow
On a black stormy night in your bosom I'll cling
And I'll know I've found love and the last song we'll sing
song performed by by Kansas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shanghai Breezes
This song appears on nine albums, and was first released on the seasons of the heart album, and has also been released on the greatest hits vol 3, favourites, a portrait, the very best of john d
(double cd), country classics, the country roads collection and the rocky mountain collection albums. a live version also appears on the wildlife concert album.
Its funny how you sound as though youre right next door
When youre really half a world away
I just cant seem to find the words Im looking for
To say the things that I want to say
I cant remember when I felt so close to you
Its almost more than I can bear
And though I seem half a million miles from you
You are in my heart and living there
And the moon and the stars are the same ones you see
Its the same old sun up in the sky
And your voice in my ear is like heaven to me
Like the breezes here in old shanghai
There are lovers who walk hand in hand in the park
And lovers who walk all alone
There are lovers who lie unafraid in the dark
And lovers who long for home
Oh, I couldnt leave you even if I wanted to
Youre in my dreams and always near
And especially when I sing the songs I wrote for you
You are in my heart and living there
And the moon and the stars are the same ones you see
Its the same old sun up in the sky
And your face in my dreams is like heaven to me
Like the breezes here in old shanghai
Shanghai breezes cool and clearing evenings sweet caress
Shanghai breezes soft and gentle remind me of your tenderness
And the moon and the stars are the same ones you see
Its the same old sun up in the sky
And your love in my life is like heaven to me
Like the breezes here in old shanghai
And the moon and the stars are the same ones you see
Its the same old sun up in the sky
And your love in my life is like heaven to me
Like the breezes here in old shanghai
Just like the breezes here in old shanghai
Words and music by john denver
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Song Of The Sea
(Capri, Piccola Marina)
Timeless sea breezes,
sea-wind of the night:
you come for no one;
if someone should wake,
he must be prepared
how to survive you.
Timeless sea breezes,
that for aeons have
blown ancient rocks,
you are the purest space
coming from afar...
Oh, how a fruit-bearing
fig tree feels your coming
high up in the moonlight.
poem by Rainer Maria Rilke (1907), translated by Albert Ernest Flemming
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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On Mrs. Ar: F: Leaving London
From Town fair Arabella flies,
The Beaux unpowder'd grieve,
The Rivers play before her eyes,
The Breezes softly breathing rise
The Spring begins to live.
Her Lovers swore they must expire
Yet quickly find their Ease,
For as she goes, their Flames retire
Love thrives before a nearer fire
Esteem by distant Rays.
Yet soon the Fair one will return
When Summer quits the Plain
Ye Rivers pour the weeping Urn,
Ye Breezes sadly sighing mourn,
Ye Lovers burn again.
'Tis constancy enough in Love
That Nature's fairly shewn
To search for more will fruitless prove
Romances and the Turtle Dove
The Virtue boast alone.
poem by Thomas Parnell
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Night Through Morning
I rose in the night
walked to the forest
when the morning breezes
blew and the sun rose
I rose in the night
in the darken shadows
I take a rock and stone
and walk through the night
I have stop and took
the forest and walked there.
At nigth I can see the dawn
of the morning
When the morning breezes
I can see the where I always wanted to be
i can feel the wind and refeshing air
blew came and makes me happy
when the morning came
the sun rose when the morning breezes
Refreshing air came, its a beautiful rising
Sun, your my only sunshine in the morning
poem by Hunter Kejick
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tricks Are For Kicks
There is an emergency,
That has an urgency.
But few can come to see,
Or agree upon a need...
To dismiss those old tricks,
That have not yet to fix...
And economy that bleeds,
From kaput hypocrisies.
It must be faced quick,
How foolish the risks...
Of wishing to succeed,
With kaput hypocrisies.
There is an emergency,
That has an urgency.
But few can come to see,
Or agree upon a need...
To dismiss those old tricks,
That have not yet to fix...
An economy that bleeds,
From kaput hypocrisies.
Tricks are for kicks,
To amuse a purpose!
But a magic to achieve,
Attracts a jeopardy.
Tricks are for kicks,
To amuse a purpose!
But a magic to achieve...
Attracts a jeopardy,
In reach!
There is an emergency,
That has an urgency.
Tricks are for kicks,
To amuse a purpose!
But a magic to achieve,
Attracts a jeopardy.
There is an emergency,
That has an urgency.
And...
Tricks are for kicks,
To amuse a purpose!
But a magic to achieve,
Attracts a jeopardy.
There is an emergency,
That has an urgency.
And...
Tricks are for kicks.
Tricks are for kicks.
Tricks are for kicks.
Tricks are for kicks.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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On A Hill
feeling myself on a hill,
over grown with white jasmines,
all about clouds looking radiant with sunlight but still.
near flowered covered window lied a lute,
breeze blows, strike against string of lute,
slow produce sweet and soft sound,
travelling on gentle breezes to the fairy land i am bound.
breezes sing melodies, like silent
motionless air, from morning to noon,
i see the rising and shining of the moon.
idle fancies pass through my lazy mind,
beauty of sunbeams dancing like diamonds.
A London Plane-Tree
Green is the plane-tree in the square,
The other trees are brown;
They droop and pine for country air;
The plane-tree loves the town.
Here from my garret-pane, I mark
The plane-tree bud and blow,
Shed her recuperative bark,
And spread her shade below.
Among her branches, in and out,
The city breezes play;
The dun fog wraps her round about;
Above, the smoke curls grey.
Others the country take for choice,
And hold the town in scorn;
But she has listened to the voice
On city breezes borne.
Winds that Whisper Hello
The clouds are high above,
Floating freely this way and that.
The wind is whispering through the trees,
Rustling the leaves to sing to me.
I feel the wind upon my face,
The voices landing upon my ears.
The gentle winds warm me
And suddenly changes to cool breezes.
Temperatures changes suddenly,
When the wind shifts unexpectedly.
To hear the wind is to know
That somehow, someway it is saying hello.
poem by Carolyn Marie Taylor
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Roots And Leaves Themselves Alone
ROOTS and leaves themselves alone are these;
Scents brought to men and women from the wild woods, and from the
pond-side,
Breast-sorrel and pinks of love--fingers that wind around tighter
than vines,
Gushes from the throats of birds, hid in the foliage of trees, as the
sun is risen;
Breezes of land and love--breezes set from living shores out to you
on the living sea--to you, O sailors!
Frost-mellow'd berries, and Third-month twigs, offer'd fresh to young
persons wandering out in the fields when the winter breaks up,
Love-buds, put before you and within you, whoever you are,
Buds to be unfolded on the old terms;
If you bring the warmth of the sun to them, they will open, and bring
form, color, perfume, to you;
If you become the aliment and the wet, they will become flowers,
fruits, tall blanches and trees. 10
poem by Walt Whitman
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Up On The Hill
We come from a long line of lenders
Who get rich just exploiting you spenders
But now we just manage our blenders
Up, up, up on the hill
It helps to be charming and funny
Have cute names like binky and bunny
But the main things still oodles of money
Up, up, up on the hill
Up on the hill we are the big cheeses
Up on the hill we own the cool breezes
Top of the heap is where we know we belong
Up on the hill above the confusion
Up on the hill we live our illusions
Up, up, up on the hill
Marmalade mansions beneath cloudless skies
Breathtaking vistas that baffle your eyes
Were passing our days in a rare atmosphere
Sun, sea, and stars, and warm breezes all year
Our blood is decidedly blue-ish
Were leery of anything newish
And or course, darling, nobodys jewish
Up, up, up on the hill
Up on the hill we are the big cheeses
Up on the hill we own the cool breezes
The top of the heap is where we know we belong
Up on the hill above the confusion
Up on the hill we live our illusions
Up, up, up on the hill
Up, up, up on the hill
Way up, up, up on the hill
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Where Perfumed Rivers Flow
Where perfumed rivers flow,
Is the home of my beloved.
Where passing breezes halt,
Is the home of my beloved.
Where dawn arrives on bare toes,
Where night paints henna-beams on feet,
Where fragrance bathes in moonlight,
Is the home of my beloved.
Where rays of light roam nakedly,
In green forests of sandalwood.
Where the flame seeks the lamp,
Is the home of my beloved.
Where sunsets sleep on wide waters,
And the deer leap.
Where tears fall for no reason,
Is the home of my beloved.
Where the farmer sleeps hungry,
Even though the wheat is the color of my beloved,
Where the wealthy ones lie in hiding,
Is the home of my beloved.
Where perfumed rivers flow,
Is the home of my beloved.
Where passing breezes halt,
Is the home of my beloved.
poem by Shiv Kumar Batalvi
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Bicycle Summer
Bicycle summer,
Girls ride across
A moonlight bridge.
Children’s feet dangle
Into warm water,
Small wishes and innocent hearts.
In love with gentle breezes,
I thought I saw Adriana
At her grandfather’s beach house
Smiling with a wine cooler.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Do I Feel Again This Day
Do I feel again
This day that is ending?
Do I have the urgency to go to sleep?
Do I need to stay up until my alarm rings for me to take my pills?
Do I feel again
The need to kick the fruit that had fallen in the ground at the supermarket By playing soccer?
Yes it helps to pass the time
And I have fun at the same time
poem by Aldo Kraas
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I Am a Bull
Common cows,
Can be found on common lands.
Where the calmness of common life,
Without the bustle and strife exist.
A bliss capture on film or in portraits.
I am a bull!
Full of adventure.
And I choose to sit or drift.
Where the trees have breezes,
With an ease that teases curiousities...
I feel that briskly flow!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Oh, Tell Me, Ye Breezes
Oh, tell me, ye breezes that spring from the west,
Oh, tell me, ere passing away,
If Leichhardt’s bold spirit has fled to its rest?
Where moulders the traveller’s clay?
Perchance as ye flitted on heedlessly by
The long lost was yielding his breath;
Perchance ye have borne on your wings the last sigh
That ’scap’d from the lone one in death.
Tell me, ye breezes, ye’ve traversed the wild,
And passed o’er the desolate spot,
Where reposeth in silence sweet Nature’s own child,
Where slumbers one nearly forgot?
Ye answer me not but are passing away—
Ye breezes that spring from the west,
Unhallow’d still moulders the traveller’s clay,
For unknown is the place of his rest.
poem by Henry Kendall
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In The Freeing Felt Done From Breezes
In the freeing felt done from breezes,
I walk with a feeling to please an appetite
To enjoy the air I breathe.
And aiding with deep breaths I take,
Is a welcomed spice of life.
I am glad I am no longer uptight,
About those assessments made
For my life I decide.
And glad I am to fly that kite.
With a riding on a bike,
All day and night
If I like.
In the freeing felt done from those breezes,
I am walking.
Carefree and talking
To the birds, bees and trees,
Welcoming me,
With a feeling that releases
A ceasing to anything,
That had come to disturb my peace.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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