Summer Sonata
Rotten fruits smell stunning.
Bushes and trees sound sunnily,
Swarms of black flies sing
On the brown forest glade.
In the pool's deep blueness
The light of weed-fires blazes.
Hear sudden love cries whirring
From yellow flower walls.
Butterflies chase themselves for a long time;
Drunkenly my shadow dances
On sultry meadows of thyme.
Brightly ecstacized blackbirds trill.
Clouds show stiff breasts,
And wreathed by foliage and berries
Under dark pines you see
A skeleton play the violin grinning.
poem by Georg Trakl
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Related quotes
My Silence Shall Be
i find this in the forest of trees
long trees, shady, such that what you can see
are only shadows of leaves
and what you hear is only the sound of the wind
choked between tight walls,
this is my silence,
moist, and soft, between a growth of wild
ferns
rotten leaves heaps and heaps of
rotten leaves
layer after layer of rotten leaves
thick and pushed still to the roots
smashed to the ground
some seeds from the oaks
or maybe from the flowers of the orchids
or some sweet fruits and red berries fall
in there
and they begin to grow
rich as humus is this soil down
the darkness of this forest,
this is my silence
deep inside me
moist, rotten, but soon
lots shall grow
seeds turning into sprouts
to trees again
perhaps taller than ever
some fruits so sweet and colored and shiny
some flowers scented and so lovely,
this my silence
shall be, i am keeping it for years
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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84
my silence shall be
i find this in the forest of trees
long trees, shady, such that what you can see
are only shadows of leaves
and what you hear is only the sound of the wind
choked between tight walls,
this is my silence,
moist, and soft, between a growth of wild
ferns
rotten leaves heaps and heaps of
rotten leaves
layer after layer of rotten leaves
thick and pushed still to the roots
smashed to the ground
some seeds from the oaks
or maybe from the flowers of the orchids
or some sweet fruits and red berries fall
in there
and they begin to grow
rich as humus is this soil down
the darkness of this forest,
this is my silence
deep inside me
moist, rotten, but soon
lots shall grow
seeds turning into sprouts
to trees again
perhaps taller than ever
some fruits so sweet and colored and shiny
some flowers scented and so lovely,
this my silence
shall be, i am keeping it for years
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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At the Cementary
Rotten stone towers sultrily warmed.
Yellow haze of incense hovers.
Bees hum chaotically swarmed
And the flower trellises shake.
Slowly a breath stirs there
By the sun-still walls,
Dwindles glimmering, like a deceit -
Songs for the dead deeply shiver away.
Long it listens after in the green,
Lets the bushes shine brighter;
Brown swarms of mosquitoes spray
Over old tombstones
poem by Georg Trakl
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Sunny Afternoon
A branch rocks me in the deep blue.
In the frolicking, autumnal leaf-tangle
Moths flicker, intoxicated and crazy.
Ax blows resound in the floodplain.
My mouth bites into red berries
And light and shadows sway in the foliage.
For hours golden dust falls
Crackling in the brown ground.
The thrush laughs from the bushes
And frolicking and loudly the autumnal leaf-tangle
Strikes together above me -
Fruits detach bright and heavy.
poem by Georg Trakl
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Untitled: Figure which has long dwelt in the coolness of sinister stone
Figure which has long dwelt in the coolness of sinister stone
Opens the pale mouth sounding
Round owl's eyes - sounding gold.
Those found the cave of the forest decayed and empty
The shadow of a doe in the rotten branches
At the border of the spring the darkness of his childhood.
Long at the forest border a bird sings your decline
The anxious showers of your brown coat;
The shadow of the owl appears in the rotten branches.
Long at the forest border a bird sings your decline
The anxious showers of your blue coat
The shadow of the mother appears in the spiky grass.
Long at the forest border a bird sings your decline
The anxious showers of your black coat
The shadow of the black horse appears in the mirror of the spring.
poem by Georg Trakl
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A Spring Morning
The sky is the shade of cornflower blue;
The clouds in the sky, are extremely few.
Caught by the sunshine, everything glows.
A fresh, cooling breeze, now gently blows.
With bowed heads, daffodils seem a bit shy;
I gaze, admiringly, at them, as I pass on by.
Their deep, rich purple, the crocuses show;
A lovely contrast, to the daffodils' yellow.
Green buds are seen on branches, once bare;
Stunning outfits, they will, very soon, wear.
Blossom on a tree, is as white as fresh snow;
Decorating its branches, both high and low.
Birds sweetly sing, high up in the tall trees.
I can hear the familiar buzz of the busy bees.
The butterflies chase each other, to and fro.
Nearby, I hear the call of the noisy crows.
Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, I happily roam;
For the first time, this year, my coat is at home.
In the cold weather, I rush everywhere so fast;
In the sunshine, I dawdle, so my walk will last.
Upon my skin, I can feel the warm sunshine;
The sun brings me cheer, and I'm feeling fine.
It really is a most pleasant start to the day,
And, fingers crossed, it will stay that way!
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Rapid train [Acceleratul]
Over beeches rising high
The cold twilight gently falls.
The dumb evening passes by
And through forest quickly crawls.
At the sunset, in the dark,
One can see a ruby spark
Among branches thick and dull...
From the foliage thick retreats
Still are heard in this deep lull
Little birds that sing in tweets...
Cold and pale in the clear sky
Many stars now catch the eye.
***
Suddenly comes from the hills
Rumor deep, without delay,
Flat and very far away,
Like the whisper of a spring
Heading for the water mills...
On the floodplain starts to swing
Fills the other vales with thrills
And with clamor...
Here it is!...
A black lightning, sleek and long,
Carried by the wings of storm
Shakes the ground quiet and warm
Running quickly all along...
Or rather it flies or swims
And at once will disappear –
Eats the road and spits flames bright
And in clouds as black as night
Cuts the forest without fear...
It is gone...
And on the plain
Forging noise will stop again
Slowly, until no one hears...
In the distance...
Disappears...
***
One by one, come out with ease
Of the bushes, of the trees,
Many birdies half asleep,
Looking not at all prepared,
Just to peep,
For they are scared:
– Hey! What happened around here?...
Chirp in chorus, loud and clear,
Wrens and finches from the rear.
And a tit, up a dwarf beech,
With its feathers ruffled much
Answers with an eerie screech
And upset tries to explain:
– Well, it's nothing weird as such,
Has just passed the rapid train...
poem by George Topîrceanu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by Octavian Cocoş
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Georgia Forest
This Georgia forest,
is sundered
by winding highway
into green canyon walls.
Dark pines subsume
the mid-day dusk;
black trunks thrust
into red forest floor
when, with sudden, golden shaft,
the faithful sun splits
its sullen core.
poem by Steven Federle
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At the Wars
Now that I am ta'en away
And may not see another day
What is it to my eye appears?
What sound rings in my stricken ears?
Not even the voice of any friend
Or eyes beloved-world-without-end,
But scenes and sounds of the country-side
In far England across the tide:
An upland field when spring's begun,
Mellow beneath the evening sun….
A circle of loose and lichened wall
Over which seven red pines fall….
An orchard of wizen blossoming trees
Wherein the nesting chaffinches
Begin again the self-same song
All the late April day-time long….
Paths that lead a shelving course
Between the chalk scarp and the gorse
By English downs; and oh! too well
I hear the hidden, clanking bell
Of wandering sheep…. I see the brown
Twilight of the huge, empty down
Soon blotted out! for now a lane
Glitters with warmth of May-time rain.
And on a shooting briar I see
A yellow bird who sings to me.
O yellow-hammer, once I heard
Thy yaffle when no other bird
Could to my sunk heart comfort bring;
But now I could not have thee sing
So sharp thy note is with the pain
Of England I may not see again!
Yet sing thy song: there answereth
Deep in me a voice which saith:
'The gorse upon the twilit down,
The English loam so sunset brown,
The bowed pines and the sheep-bells' clamour,
The wet, lit lane and the yellow-hammer,
The orchard and the chaffinch song
Only to the Brave belong.
And he shall lose their joy for aye
If their price he cannot pay.
Who shall find them dearer far
Enriched by blood alter long war.
'
poem by Robert Nichols
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The Fury Of Sunrises
Darkness
as black as your eyelid,
poketricks of stars,
the yellow mouth,
the smell of a stranger,
dawn coming up,
dark blue,
no stars,
the smell of a love,
warmer now
as authentic as soap,
wave after wave
of lightness
and the birds in their chains
going mad with throat noises,
the birds in their tracks
yelling into their cheeks like clowns,
lighter, lighter,
the stars gone,
the trees appearing in their green hoods,
the house appearing across the way,
the road and its sad macadam,
the rock walls losing their cotton,
lighter, lighter,
letting the dog out and seeing
fog lift by her legs,
a gauze dance,
lighter, lighter,
yellow, blue at the tops of trees,
more God, more God everywhere,
lighter, lighter,
more world everywhere,
sheets bent back for people,
the strange heads of love
and breakfast,
that sacrament,
lighter, yellower,
like the yolk of eggs,
the flies gathering at the windowpane,
the dog inside whining for good
and the day commencing,
not to die, not to die,
as in the last day breaking,
a final day digesting itself,
lighter, lighter,
the endless colors,
the same old trees stepping toward me,
the rock unpacking its crevices,
breakfast like a dream
and the whole day to live through,
steadfast, deep, interior.
After the death,
after the black of black,
the lightness, -
not to die, not to die -
that God begot.
poem by Anne Sexton
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Sonnet: God Rules Everything
The tree has leaves which are dark and light-green;
Some have turned yellow without a reason;
The whole place looks very tranquil, serene;
Flowers have blossomed in the spring season.
The birds seem to fly in a merry way,
Singing bird-songs in melodious tunes;
The sun’s shining brightly throughout the day;
The bushes bear berries; the trees have prunes.
But all this happen, obeying His call;
And weird things occur; only God knows why;
Almighty knows why spins this earthly ball!
And when each creature with the I finally
The Omniscient monitors all things;
He knows each heart, even before it sings!
poem by John Celes
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Skeleton Flat
HERE’S never a bough to be tossed in the breeze,
For it’s long since the forest was green;
And round all the trunks of the naked white trees
The marks of the death-ring are seen.
The solemn-faced bear, who had looked on the blacks
From his home with the ’possum and cat,
Blinked anxiously down when the death-dealing axe
Was ring-barking Skeleton Flat.
And, strange to be seen in the evergreen south,
The gums for ten summers have stood,
And dried in the terrible furnace of drouth,
Till harder than flint is the wood.
Now tall grows the grass at the roots of the trees,
But a beautiful forest it cost;
And the heart of the splitter is sad when he sees
And thinks of the timber that’s lost.
Here flies, through a sky that is glazed, the black crow,
And the eagle goes circling around,
Or evilly sits on a branch that is low,
With his gleaming black eye on the ground.
And loudly the jackasses chuckle in mirth,
When a comrade flies upward, until
Like a fragment of thread, in its height from the earth,
Is the writhing brown snake in his bill.
O fit for the place are the curlews that wail
On the banks of a distant lagoon,
Or round by the swamps that are shallow and pale
In the light of the nights of the moon;
When glist’ning and white are the frost-covered trees
That dead for ten summers have stood;
And the stranger, benighted, might fancy he sees
The skeleton wraith of a wood.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Without The Chase
August 31,2009
Pink to blue, to yellow,
to monstrous purple clouds looming on the horizon;
My horizon, layed out before me.
I step out, look up and it flies away.
You fly away. I jump for you
and I am leaping, bounding,
stretchng beyond my limits into pink and blue,
and pink and blue.
But you're gone.
I settle again, shrug, and look
to the monstrous purple clouds.
I could fly away without the chase,
theres just no desire for me to have it any other way.
I blink, and look up again to purple,
lavender, yellow, clouds of the deepest grey.
Dusk settles.
All of a sudden, I can hear everything.
Crickets, every far off chirp in trees.
I smile as I step back in.
Back into sheltered silence.
poem by Monica O'Connor
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My Side
Black emptiness is where I travel
Casting shadow where ever I go
Someone must play this part
There must be balance to make this world work
There needs to be darkness
May I bring despair, hate, and jealousy
into the lives of others
I despise myself
I despise the thought of being alone on the hated side
I am revolted even though I didn't choose this life
But as I said there needs to be a balance
And she is on the other side
There's always a ray of light in the darkness
She is that light I wish to have stabbed in me
She is my light, the guide of my love
I can feel her deep in my heart
But the darkness covers her in my eyes
Though she is always with me
Because as she casts light there must always be a shadow
I sit near a blackened pool on the opposite side of the world
and I look at the closest reflection I have of you
The moon shines on as I'm wishing you were here
I look into the pool and think of the time we have spent
Those brief few moments when light met dark
'This is a love to fight for'
That's what I said the last time we met
You shook your head and said
'In the end we'll both lose'
Time fades fast
I must convince her here and now
'Look at me' I said in her ear
She looks and her eyes twinkle
'If at anything my dream came true
I brush back her hair
'I got to meet a girl like you'
Gentle lips meet
Sometimes a kiss is all you need to do
That day was the last time I saw her
As time hit the right mark we were forced to pull away
Me into darkness
She into light
I grab her hand and try not to let go
But I was being pulled back
I yell so she could hear
'I'll come back to you I promise'
She nods
'I know you will'
And we break
I am swallowed in the darkness again
Alone and again on the other side of the world
I will wait again for the next day
When light and the dark can meet once more
Written: February 16,2010
poem by Ryan Collins
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The Pool
COME with me, follow me, swift as a moth,
Ere the wood-doves waken.
Lift the long leaves and look down, look down
Where the light is shaken,
Amber and brown,
On the woven ivory roots of the reed,
On a floating flower and a weft of weed
And a feather of froth.
Here in the night all wonders are,
Lapped in the lift of the ripple's swing,–
A silver shell and a shaken star,
And a white moth's wing.
Here the young moon when the mists unclose
Swims like the bud of a golden rose.
I would live like an elf where the wild grapes cling,
I would chase the thrush
From the red rose-berries.
All the day long I would laugh and swing
With the black choke-cherries.
I would shake the bees from the milkweed blooms,
And cool, O cool,
Night after night I would leap in the pool,
And sleep with the fish in the roots of the rush.
Clear, O clear my dreams should be made
Of emerald light and amber shade,
Of silver shallows and golden glooms.
Sweet, O sweet my dreams should be
As the dark, sweet water enfolding me
Safe as a blind shell under the sea.
poem by Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
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Soldier of bronze
Bound thoughts transform to trees;
black alders are implanted in forest,
where the winds embrace 'em free
and rain drops pour to their closest.
Winter winds around trees consent,
their foliage sweep, dithering gusts;
as their firm trunks upwards extent,
pointing to skies and selected stars.
Shadows float, as hours thump near,
adjacent to his entity, walking friends,
joyous in a silver solitude to appear,
soothing count that his sins amends.
And while a joyful and moonlit glow,
dances on rhymed cadence meters,
a ghost will stay with flakes of snow,
and fly above the pastoral features.
Maids will pass, in light snow above
amid sky clouds in black agate hue,
daughters of solitude to bestow love,
embracing shapes and kindly imbue.
A soldier of bronze dances his fever
in alder forest to sway his dead life,
thrown in with his song of a griever,
a crown of laurel and his wraith wife.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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At Day-Close In November
The ten hours' light is abating,
And a late bird flies across,
Where the pines, like waltzers waiting,
Give their black heads a toss.
Beech leaves, that yellow the noon-time,
Float past like specks in the eye;
I set every tree in my June time,
And now they obscure the sky.
And the children who ramble through here
Conceive that there never has been
A time when no tall trees grew here,
A time when none will be seen.
poem by Thomas Hardy
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When Love Cries
Baby you
turned my world into something new
nights are long when you're far away
hunger for you every night and day
whisper softly to the wind
need you back in my arms again
passion calls from deep inside
it only happens when my love cries
You make my heart sing (x3)
when love cries
you make my heart sing (x3)
when love cries...love cries...love cries
And when I am blue
close my eyes and dream of you
silent echoes scream out your name
you're the keeper of my flame
I'll survive on desire
'til I'm closer to your burning fire
ride a star across the sky
I need you here when my love cries
You make my heart sing (x3)
when love cries
you make my heart sing (x3)
when love cries...love cries
you make my hear sing (x6)
when love cries
Ooh baby
to be near you
just to feel you
Baby
song performed by by Donna Summer from The Donna Summer Anthology
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The month of June
In the month of June
I composed a melodic tune
Ahead of time before the clocks struck noon
Later at night I waited to sing it out in full moon
June is the smell of sweet fresh roses
A beautiful rosy sixth month it exposes
And with the sweetness of each day
The sky clouds smile brightful and gay
Good Afternoon, My little summer butterflies
In June we can play where yellow meadows lie
We can observe little rivers flow into lagoons
And the mellifluent wildlife retreat into cocoons
And if love where to blossom it will do so quite soon
Because there is something about the month of June
As the longest daylight hours a year balloon
All marriage hopes are not left marooned
June is a beautiful month to sing
And listen to loud wedding bells ring
In this long awaited summer month
The mood of happiness is all June fronts
Copyright 2009 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Wild Forest Flower
Rough around the edges but a tender center
This is my wild forest flower
Short and slender with long flowing blonde hair
This is my wild forest flower
A loving heart that goes beyond what I can see
This is my wild forest flower
I want to hold my flower in my hands
Wondering why she holds back and refuses to stand
I water it every now and then to watch it grow
But it takes too long because it’s a little slow
So I wait patiently for the flower to begin to rise
Even though I can still hear the weeping willows cries
Firm and hard headed but with a loving touch
This is my wild forest flower
Always hiding and always scared like a little child
This is my wild forest flower
The only one im willing to be with anymore
This is my wild forest flower
A darkened hush rises in the sky above my flower
The roots slowly exposing themselves out of fear
A forest fire begins in the distance soon to consume it
The fire rages ready to consume the small thing in power
This little bitty flower that I love and hold so dear
but I laugh because I know how this fire got lit
poem by Branden Aeling
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