Related quotes: Way up on the rainbow...

Rainbow Aisle (Song)

Way up on the rainbow aisle
Where the many colours sing and the children smile
I saw you cast a silver net
Onto the wet seabed with the winterfog overhead

There are silkworms black and white
On the concrete floors and the fields of night
Caught between the truckwheels and the hoe
And the sound of Weather Report on the underground radio

And I was crawling up to you, just like that
Between the crumbling cliff and the ledge where you sat
And where was the greater danger
In the moment when you turned around and called me a stranger?

In the concert halls I felt alone –
Jacques Brel and Charlie Chaplin gone on home
And that’s where you’re joking about now
Where you’re half-gone, anyhow

And I talk to the winter children
Getting no mothers or machines to feed them
And I’m dreaming in a language I can’t speak
While the streets of Europe fill up with autumn leaves –
And bookshops on the cheap.

poem by Frank Bana
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Autumn Leaf Fall

Colourful leaves fall through the air,
Red, orange and yellow.
The ones on the ground start to rot,
Black, brown and purple.
Some get caught in the winter bared trees,
Gold, green and silver.
Leaves of the autumn,
The autumn rainbow,
These are the colours of the autumn leaf fall.

poem by Thistle Wargul
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Autumn Becomes Winter

Autumn is becoming Winter,
And as it does everything dies.

Autumn is a slow decay in warm colours,
And Winter is grey and absent.
Some of the redy-brown leaves sit on the trees,
Yet the cold chill sings a song
That could only be the Winter.

It is scarf weather now.
I turn my collar up against the cold and damp.
The Sun has stopped shining all day,
Now we see it for a few hours a day
And then we are entombed in darkness.

You could run to catch up with the Sun,
But you’d never make it.
Be left like ship smoke on the horizon,
Just a spot in the distance.
You cannot escape the Winter.

Autumn is becoming Winter,
And as it does everything dies.

poem by Charlie F. Kane
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Voice On The Wind

She walks with the wind on the windy height
When the rocks are loud and the waves are white,
And all night long she calls through the night,
'O my children, come home!'
Her bleak gown, torn as a tattered cloud,
Tosses around her like a shroud,
While over the deep her voice rings loud,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'

Who is she who wanders alone,
When the wind drives sheer and the rain is blown?
Who walks all night and makes her moan,
'O my children, come home!'
Whose face is raised to the blinding gale;
Whose hair blows black and whose eyes are pale,
While over the world goes by her wail,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'

III

She walks with the wind in the windy wood;
The dark rain drips from her hair and hood,
And her cry sobs by, like a ghost pursued,
'O my children, come home!'
Where the trees loom gaunt and the rocks stretch drear,
The owl and the fox crouch back with fear,
As wild through the wood her voice they hear,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'

Who is she who shudders by
When the boughs blow bare and the dead leaves fly?
Who walks all night with her wailing cry,
'O my children, come home!'
Who, strange of look, and wild of tongue,
With wan feet wounded and hands wild-wrung,
Sweeps on and on with her cry, far-flung,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'

'Tis the Spirit of Autumn, no man sees,
The mother of Death and of Mysteries,
Who cries on the wind all night to these,
'O my children, come home!'
The Spirit of Autumn, pierced with pain,
Calling her children home again,
Death and Dreams, through ruin and rain,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'

poem by Madison Julius Cawein
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Mother Nature

For seasons of life
Each one different
In its majestic wake

Spring
The beginnings of life
Were flowers come to breath?
On a field full of dreams

Butterfly's flutter
Their brilliance in flight
A cycle of life
That gives meaning to life

Summer
Its gentle breeze
Wave's the fields of corn
Its beauty of nature
Grows its colours of gold

The sun shines down
On children at play
As the days drift by
Colours spring to life

Autumn
Golden rays of sunshine
Moves across the fields
Capturing the colours
Of summers falling leaves

Mystical dew drops
Cling to the leaves
As showers and thunder
Cascade upon dead leaves

Winter
Its barren life no more
But buried underground
Beats a life Mother Nature hordes

Then just when you think
There is no life no more
The cycle of life
Begins again once more
Were Mother Nature welcomes
Springtime once more

poem by Kaila George
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Autumn Night

leaves change color
the cool breeze flies
the song of the leaves roars
rustles and bustles in the brush
birds begin to sing to the south
sky turns red as the sun sets on an Autumn evening
clouds not white but pink
coco and cookies all around
coats and children surround
the fire of life
roads and streets quiet
what a sound, what a sight
what a wonderful Autumn night
marsh mellows in fire places
smoke of warmth fills the night sky
sweet Autumn night
make the stars shine bright
the sun rises
the moon disappears
stars that once shone
are now gone
what a night
what a sight
please Autumn day
bring one more

poem by Diana Americano
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White Fields

In the winter time we go
Walking in the fields of snow;

Where there is no grass at all;
Where the top of every wall,

Every fence, and every tree,
Is as white as white can be.

Pointing out the way we came,
-Every one of them the same-

All across the fields there be
Prints in silver filigree;

And our mothers always know,
By the footprints in the snow,

Where it is the children go.

poem by James Stephens
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A Dream In A Winter Night

When I open my eyes
naked trees already dressed
with snow so clean and white
many little children making snowman
one big big snowman.

I smile
I am happy
but only for this moment
for this moment that I am dreaming
of seing once again
little children
playing under the sun
on a snowy winter morning
all around the neighborhood.

poem by Marites C. Cayetano
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Our Beautiful Children….

.
Our beautiful children are dying
In Africa, Europe, the Middle East
Asia, the Americas,
And in every projects where there is no peace.
Our black children are dying
For lack of basic necessities and because of the lies
And the carelessness of their greedy leaders.
Our white children are dying
Because of the expensive weapons and the nuclear reactors.
Our brown children are dying
Because of the selfishness of the oppressors
Our yellow children are dying
Because of the savagery of the dictators.
Our beautiful children are dying,
When will they stop suffering?
We forgot that we were once beautiful children.
When will this senseless carnage end?
We should love them and protect them.
We should feed them and help them.
Let the rainbow display the colors of heaven.
Let’s fill up the air with love; let’s ring and ring
The bells of happiness on this beautiful land,
In every street corners and every Carrefour
Let’s stop this holocaust, this bloody war in Darfur.
Let the colorful doves caress the blue firmament
And let the children play together under the heavenly tent.

poem by Hebert Logerie
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We're All God's Children

Album: Peace In The Valley
Here comes a Baptist, here comes a Jew
There goes a Mormon and a Muslim too
I see a Buddist and a Hindu
I see a Catholic and I see you
We're all god's children
We're all god's children
We're all god's children
Why can't we be
One big happy family
You like the day, and I like the night
He's into country and he's isn't quit
There's folks on the left and the far right
But that doesn't mean that we have to fight
We're all god's children
All god's children
Yeah, We're all god's children
Why can't we be
One big happy family
White folks, yellow folks, black and tan
On the same planet in the same plan
A feminist woman and a he man
We're all playin' the magic hand
We're all god's children
We're all god's children
Oh, We're all god's children
Why can't we be
One big happy family
We're all god's children
All god's children
Yeah, We're all god's children
Why can't we be
One big happy family
We're all god's children
All god's children
We're all god's children
Why can't we be
One big happy family
We're all god's children
We're all god's children
Yeah, We're all god's children
Why can't we be
One big happy family
We're all god's children
We're all god's children
We're all god's children
We're all black and white
We're all precious in his sight
We're all god's children
We're all god's children
We're all god's children
Why can't we all be
One big happy family...

song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Duet

Beauty in Black and white

The trees are now of leaves bereft.
Stark silhouettes against the sky
but here and there an odd leaf’s left.
Clinging to life determinedly.
But in due course they to will fall
They’ve played their part it’s time to go
They have no chance, no chance at all
to defy the winds which blow
The wintry blasts will tear them loose,
just as they are supposed to do
Although they try they can't refuse
Nature decrees it must be so
There is no place for leaves of green.
When winter dominates the scene

Simplicity

Rich autumn colours will soon fade.
Though for a while the beauty show
with brilliant colours on parade.
Will too soon be forced to go.
When winter king resumes his rule.
It is his turn he has the right,
the autumn winds his favourite tool
to change the world to black and white
His artistry is monochrome
but has a beauty all its own.
Which some of us find most welcome.
The autumn colours overdone.
Content with the austerity
of winters simpler artistr

16-Oct-08

http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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All The Same!

i am the illegal immigrant,
picking your fruit.
while my children are hungry,
and my wife scrubs your floors.
the young black man in your prison,
the anger of the poor.
i am the books,
you forbid us to read.
i am the Vietnamese family,
whose children speak english.
the young Sioux poet,
whose words sound like tears.
i am the white man's reservation,
and the white man's god....
the sound of the gas pump,
the feet of soldiers marching to death.
i am the grandson of the miner,
who never came out.
the body of the union organizer,
buried beneath rubble.
i am the picket line,
the cold floor of the cell.
i am the old woman who died,
alone in her nursing home bed.
the sound of the church bells,
on midnight's empty streets.
i am the needle and the crack pipe,
the sound of the window breaking.
i am the whistle of the train,
so near and so far.
i am the child adopted,
by two women in love.
i am the mission, the soup line,
and the shelter....
the body in the alley,
and no one cares.
i am the song of America,
i am the wind of freedom.
i am the torch of justice,
the bridge that has no name.
i am the god of many colors,
and all the same!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Dreaming Tree

Standing here
The old man said to me
Long before these crowded streets
Here stood my dreaming tree
Below it he would sit
For hours at a time
Now progress takes away
What forever took to find
Now hes falling hard
He feels the falling dark
How he longs to be
Beneath his dreaming tree
Conquered fear to climb
A moment froze in time
When the girl who first he kissed
Promised him shed be his
Remembered mothers words
There beneath the tree
No matter what the world
Youll always be my baby
Mommy come quick
The dreaming tree has died
The air is growing thick
A fear he cannot hide
The dreaming tree has died
Oh have you no pity
This thing I do
I do not deny it
All through this smile
As crooked as danger
I do not deny
I know in my mind
I would leave you now
If I had the strength to
I would leave you up
To your own devices
Will you not talk
Can you take pity
I dont ask much
But wont you speak
Please
From the start
She knew she had it made
Easy up til then
For sure shed make the grade
Adorers came in hordes
To lay down in her wake
She gave it all she had
But treasures slowly fade
Now shes falling hard
She feels the fall of dark
How did this fall apart
She drinks to fill it up
A smile of sweetest flowers
Wilted so and soured
Black tears stain the cheeks
That once were so admired
She thinks when she was small
There on her fathers knee
How he had promised her
You1ll always be my baby
Daddy come quick
The dreaming tree has died
I cant find my way home
There is no place to hide
The dreaming tree has died
Oh if I had the strength...
Take me back
Save me please

song performed by by Dave Matthews Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Tribute to Mothers on ‘Mothers’ Day ‘09’

A mother keeps the human race going!
She gives the kid(s) the important training;
She does the baby’s cleaning and nursing;
She tends to children’s bathing and cleaning.

A mother is the crux in kid(s) growing!
And children into adults keep turning;
She does the child’s dressing and nail-paring;
She sings the songs when child goes off sleeping!

A mother keeps the home and does cooking;
About the children all, she keeps thinking;
Most days, she does the chores and dish-washing;
She hardly gets some time for own sleeping!

A mother loves to work and keep slogging!
Sometimes, in vain for help, she keeps begging;
Some modern moms take to even blogging;
A few spend much time at husbands, nagging!

A mother knows the art of good loving!
Some are good in punning, joking, rhyming;
A mother teaches kids at fine writing;
She spends the night in ‘about all’, dreaming!

A mother soul is fixed to kid(s) rearing!
To problems all, she gives a good hearing;
Nothing amiss can escape her seeing;
At times, she gives the kid(s) a good beating!

A mother tells kid(s) to be God-fearing!
Some mothers can be bold and ev’n daring;
Some mothers can’t stay without arguing;
Good mothers believe in giving / sharing!

A mother is a great human being!
When someone leaves, she keeps her hand(s) waving;
For love sometimes, some mothers keep craving;
The world somehow keeps most mothers crying!

poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Devil's Night

a lust for blood a horrors night
a longing for the taste of innocent
flesh demons come out to play
when the nights hour is none
let the rest less rise and roam
through the streets of the living
let all awake hear the screams
as blood stains the nights streets
reward the wicked with a personal
lick of the tongue down the neck
as the blood filled vains pop in your
mouth feel alive again as your thrist
for blood is lifted
feed my children feed rip the life out of
the living let all your my children feed
allow the living to fear when the nights
none let only the wandering souls of the
dead roam these streets
cause tonight we feed like
kings on to the flesh of the living
let all a sleep awake to the horried streets
an when the nights bright let the
shattered memories of former friends
mothers, children, father be seen in a pool
of there own blood as we rest to return again
when the clock strights 3am and the night
becomes none =] hahaha until tomorrow my pretties
until tomorrow

poem by Robert Roberts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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God's Sense Of Humor

And God created man!
Yellow, black and white men
They all love each other?
Yellow men in Asia
Black men in Africa
White men in Europe
All color of men in America
They all love each other?

And God created woman!
Yellow, black and white women
They all love each other?
Yellow women in Asia
Black women in Africa
White women in Europe
All color of women in America
They all love each other?

And God created man and woman!
Yellow, black and white men and women
All living together in a love, hate relationship
All living together in America
With rainbow colored children
Black and white children
Yellow and black children
Who just love to be a free American?

For Drew and Allan

poem by Doris Dzameshie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Have Seen Autumn

I have never felt the chill of winter
Nor the birth of spring
Only the two faces of Nature
The golden sun shining
Or the heavens openly weeping.

But I have seen autumn
As I looked at her
No cold winter in her smile
A promise of summer in her eyes
Her hair of autumn leaves.

I have never felt autumn
But I have seen it
It’s the canvass of Rembrandt
Dark, red, crimson, gold
But I have never felt it.

Is the autumn breeze damp and soft like her lips?
Is the autumn sky naked and warm like her skin?
But I have never kissed her lips nor touched her skin
I have only seen autumn
But I have never felt it.

poem by Shogunoka Ledesma III
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Relative Poverty

In Ethiopia they sometimes say
How shameful and unethical it is
That people eat well and drink
In the super-luxury Sheraton Hotel
While children in white rags and mothers beg
Outside on the Addis Ababa streets

As for me I sometimes think
How shameful and unethical it is
That people eat so well and drink
In Europe and the USA
While children in white rags and mothers sleep
Outside on the Addis Ababa street.

poem by Frank Bana
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Soweto Flames

In 1976
In Soweto
The time was 7 o'clock
It was 16th of June

Children marching
Through the streets
Children chanting
On the streets

Protesting against Afrikaans
Protesting against Afrikaners
Children were gunned
For protesting against Afrikaners language
Children were gassed
For protecting African language

Afrikaans language
Afrikaners language
Africans baggage

poem by Barati Lesetlhe
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On the Seashore

On the seashore of endless worlds children meet.
The infinite sky is motionless overhead and the restless water is boisterous. On the seashore of endless worlds the children meet with shouts and dances.
They build their houses with sand, and they play with empty shells. With withered leaves they weave their boats and smilingly float them on the vast deep. Children have their play on the seashore of worlds.
They know not how to swim, they know not how to cast nets. Pearl-fishers dive for pearls, merchants sail in their ships, while children gather pebbles and scatter them again. They seek not for hidden treasures, they know not how to cast nets.
The sea surges up with laughter, and pale gleams the smile of the sea-beach. Death-dealing waves sing meaningless ballads to the children, even like a mother while rocking her baby's cradle. The sea plays with children, and pale gleams the smile of the sea-beach.
On the seashore of endless worlds children meet. Tempest roams in the pathless sky, ships are wrecked in the trackless water, death is abroad and children play. On the seashore of endless worlds is the great meeting of children.

poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Seashore

They build their houses with sand
and they play with empty shells.
With withered leaves they weave their boats
and smilingly float them on the vast deep.
Children have their play on the seashore of worlds.

They know not how to swim, they know not how to cast nets.
Pearl fishers dive for pearls, merchants sail in their ships,
while children gather pebbles and scatter them again.
They seek not for hidden treasures, they know not how to cast nets.

The sea surges up with laughter
and pale gleams the smile of the sea beach.
Death-dealing waves sing meaningless ballads to the children,
even like a mother while rocking her baby's cradle.
The sea plays with children,
and pale gleams the smile of the sea beach.

On the seashore of endless worlds children meet.
Tempest roams in the pathless sky,
ships get wrecked in the trackless water,
death is abroad and children play.
On the seashore of endless worlds is the
great meeting of children.