The Scent Of Summer
The woodpecker picking skins from the trees,
Summer air hardly blowing, heavy and humid,
Make female flutter in the wind as naked goddess,
Greet the fluttering fan blowing in their hand.
A windy ripple of joy amides fragrant the smiles,
Like the scent of mist loitering in a new morning ray?
Falling from heaven upon rugged hills with limpid tress,
Make a noise blushing in leafy shade of the day.
Up in the sky, morning glory shows a brilliant fire,
And the young hairy grass whisper with a different voice,
Call unto drowsy fields for nature to awake from slumber,
Take into the air beauty of presiding choice.
Between dimpled leaves come the buzzing bees,
Clouds go higher, gathered sweat in boughs as rain,
The season bring the scent of summer bloom with ease,
Mingled fragrance in the lovely leaves contain.
A special display of all the aspirations that people have,
Stored up in many small changes of fresh fantasies,
Orchards paths in distant dreams many do crave,
But we can all swallow reality much nearer the pansies.
In sunset shadows the glitter of gold pass sublimed,
Where painted mausoleum pervades dark places,
Which mark that imprint in the sands of our time?
Wind and rain gently step aside from the gorgeous isles.
poem by Gerry Legister
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
If I Could Be The Wind
I want to be the wind blowing in forest playing their own song.
I want to be the wind bringing smiles for farmers.
I want to be the wind bringing rain, helping fireman in his hardest time.
I want to be the wind assisting plant to expand their kingdom.
I want to be the wind smoothly blowing over the sea and bringing fisherman home safely.
I want to be the wind covering the thing which ought to be left in past.
I want to be the wind clearing the mind of those with agony
I want to be the wind blowing in summer and tending to those without shelter.
I want to be the wind which bring happiness to the children taking their kite high up in the sky.
I want to be the wind removing clouds of torment and allowing sun to lay down its vital warmth.
I want to be the wind which remove thorn from path and help people to move forward.
I want to be the wind helping bird to take their first flight.
I want to be the wind which leaves versifier rapt giving him his divine words
I want to be the wind blowing all over place bringing happiness to people and vanishes stealthily, unnoticed.
I WANT TO BE THE WIND…
poem by Parth Gwari
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Last Days of Summer
Breathe the joy of summer for one more day
Bask in the shade of accommodating trees
Smell the sweet fragrance of lilies and roses
Watch, as golden nectar is gathered by bees
The blueness of the sky is calm and peaceful
Elongating wisps of chalky white smoke trails
Streak silently across the highest elevations
A glint of sliver leads the heavenly portrayal
Young sidewalk artists add a dazzling flavor
Rainbows and butterflies decorate the concrete
Outlines of elephants and tigers roam carefree
Ex outsmarts circle with a diagonal defeat
Crowns of branches are brushed with tinges of gold
Breezes intensify as leaves cascade to the ground
Dark rain clouds invade, erasing summer fantasies
Cooling joyful summer dreams as the rain pounds
9/8/07
poem by Theresa Ann Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In The Fields
Lord when I look at lovely things which pass,
Under old trees the shadow of young leaves
Dancing to please the wind along the grass,
Or the gold stillness of the August sun on the August sheaves;
Can I believe there is a heavenlier world than this?
And if there is
Will the heart of any everlasting thing
Bring me these dreams that take my breath away?
They come at evening with the home-flying rooks and the scent
of hay,
Over the fields. They come in spring.
poem by Charlotte Mary Mew
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One summer when the wind was strong
This is the place, now we are here again
I remember that summer when the wind was strong
And everything around us was dry,
The acacia trees towered and showered us with
Round leaves falling and falling and falling
Some birds were there and they flew away
Some cars were there and they speeded away
It was getting dark and it was a dry summer
We stayed there for a while when the leaves fell
Then we went under the trees not seeking shelter
But to catch those leaves falling and falling and falling
We are trying to feel again what falling was
We are here on this summer, we see the leaves
Falling and falling again to the dry wind,
We try to recall about us, but there is simply
Nothing about us anymore, but just the same
The leaves fall and fall and fall, we see them reenacting
There is that meaning; there it is in the falling
But we have outgrown it, we look for more, we hope
We can find some more, something beyond us.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Summer Pool
THERE is a singing in the summer air,
The blue and brown moths flutter o’er the grass,
The stubble bird is creaking in the wheat,
And perch’d upon the honeysuckle-hedge
Pipes the green linnet. Oh, the golden world!
The stir of life on every blade of grass,
The motion and the joy on every bough,
The glad feast everywhere, for things that love
The sunshine, and for things that love the shade!
Aimlessly wandering with weary feet,
Watching the wool white clouds that wander by,
I come upon a lonely place of shade,—
A still green Pool, where with soft sound and stir
The shadows of o’erhanging branches sleep,
Save where they leave one dreamy space of blue,
O’er whose soft stillness ever and anon
The feathery cirrus blows. Here unaware
I pause, and leaning on my staff I add
A shadow to the shadows; and behold!
Dim dreams steal down upon me, with a hum
Of little wings, a murmuring of boughs,
The dusky stir and motion dwelling here,
Within this small green world. O’ershadow’d
By dusky greenery, tho’ all around
The sunshine throbs on fields of wheat and bean,
Downward I gaze into the dreamy blue,
And pass into a waking sleep, wherein
The green boughs rustle, feathery wreaths of cloud
Pass softly, piloted by golden airs:
The air is still,—no birds sing any more,—
And helpless as a tiny flying thing,
I am alone in all the world with God.
The wind dies—not a leaf stirs—on the Pool
The fly scarce moves; earth seems to hold her breath
Until her heart stops, listening silently
For the far footsteps of the coming rain!
While thus I pause, it seems that I have gain’d
New eyes to see; my brain grows sensitive
To trivial things that, at another hour,
Had pass’d unheeded. Suddenly the air
Shivers, the shadows in whose midst I stand
Tremble and blacken—the blue eye o’ the Pool
Is clos’d and clouded; with a sudden gleam
Oiling its wings, a swallow darteth past,
And weedling flowers beneath my feet thrust up
Their leaves, to feel the fragrant shower. Oh, hark!
The thirsty leaves are troubled into sighs,
And up above me, on the glistening boughs,
Patters the summer rain!
Into a nook,
Screen’d by thick foliage of oak and beech,
I creep for shelter; and the summer shower
Murmurs around me. Oh, the drowsy sounds!
The pattering rain, the numerous sigh of leaves,
The deep, warm breathing of the scented air,
Sink sweet into my soul—until at last,
Comes the soft ceasing of the gentle fall,
And lo! the eye of blue within the Pool
Opens again, while with a silvern gleam
Dew diamonds twinkle moistly on the leaves,
Or, shaken downward by the summer wind,
Fall melting on the Pool in rings of light!
poem by William Cosmo Monkhouse
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Country Heritages Forever
The rains is came to the village without notice voice is come noise
Breeze blowing through wet leafs all of natural bloomed by bade
Couldn't really judge morning noon or evening the long moment sun is hide
But the woods trees and cultivated never feared for darkness with rain come
The black clouds among start beaming on set birds are singing like luster morning
Hanging dew from leaf sparkle like mini star sun is smiling
The leeches are stretch between grass like became new power for further living
The noise of pouring water from dame increase by rain coming
The flowers moving by breeze butterfly sucking pollen among rain
Many people walking with umbrella they never defeat rain
Someone late and thinking with looking far away sky beautiful seen
Between rain misty flare colorful rainbow near of horizontal which of beautiful seen
The fortune every dwelling place comes with rain at august summer
Every people smile and make them hope developing own country heritages forever
One song and one phrase living together one nation creative with rain summer
Every foes make hopes capture strange of heritage mix with water and flowing like glacier
poem by Inguruwatta Pushpadewa
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Morning Time
Wind was blowing through the trees
I could hear the rustling of their leaves
The morning sun sneaking through the clouds
Birds singing morning sounds
For i love this time i say
Morning of a new day
I wonder what the day has in store
In the distance i hear the waves crashing the shore
For it is morning time and all is a buzz
From the depths of the oceans
To the skies above
Good morning morning i always say
My your a beautiful day
Maybe you might rain today
Your still beautiful anyway
The sombre breeze that blows around
The birds singing
As i spread my blanket on the ground
So i lay here looking into the sky
Motionless waiting and watching the world pass me by
A few drops of rain speckle my face
I would not give up being here for any place
Back To An Old Place
it is summer
scorching summer
season creeping,
grasses are wilting
trees are shedding of
their last leaves,
what i see are bones
of trees,
skeletons of
branches,
the dry wind keeps
blowing the leaves
away,
what i have is this
bald surrounding
emptied of their
essence
beyond me are
brown mountains
vultures are
in the skies
eying for
death as prey
i sit upon a rock
the only rock
left here
i have no cover on
my head
i am half naked
i have no one to talk
to,
they have left this
arid place
a long time ago
i am back
i am telling the
sand soil,
i have something
to write and
tell the world
about it
it is summer
in this vast desert
a long time ago
this was ours
and the trees are green
grasses verdant
butterflies flutter
and innocently
land on our
hands.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Memories
the memories have become brown leaves
with the slight touch of the wind
this summer
all of them fall to the ground
some will be blown far away
some will stay and crack
and become dust
in a little while,
i will hear the sound of everything
the wind blowing,
the falling of the leaves
the cracking and
then how the dust
whispers
that it still want to stay and wait
even longer
for the next season of rain
like some seeds.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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[Month of] June
Rise up, and do begin the day's adorning;
The Summer dark is but the dawn of day.
The last of sunset fades into the morning,
The morning calls you from the dark away.
The holy mist, the white mist of the morning,
Was wreathing upward on my lonely way.
The way was waiting for your own adorning
That should complete the broad adorned day.
Rise up, and do begin the day's adorning;
The little eastern clouds are dapple grey:
There will be wind among the leaves to-day;
It is the very promise of the morning.
Lux Tua Via Mea: your light's my way -
Then do rise up and make it perfect day.
poem by Hilaire Belloc
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Why are you so troubled? [Ce te legeni?]
– "Why are you so troubled, forest?
There's no wind and there's no rain
Yet your branches are in pain".
– "Yes, I'm troubled, you know why?
'Cause my life is passing by
Days are shrinking, nights are growing
And my leaves are quickly falling.
Wind is blowing from the bay
Chasing singing birds away
Wind is blowing without fear
Summer's gone, winter is here.
How could I avoid to bow
When the birds are leaving now!
Over branches, in the sky
Swallow flocks are flying high
And I'm watching them go by
Knowing that my hope will die.
And are passing all the day
Darkening the airy way,
And like seconds they are flying
With their wings the wind defying.
In their wake, I remain numb
Whitered and a little dumb
Only with my own desire
Which is burning me like fire!"
poem by Mihai Eminescu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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Leaves (thread)
under the dogwood
leaves cover
a cat’s grave
early spring
one leaf still dangles
from the tree
palmistry
dew drops on a leaf
pick a vein
widow’s diary
pressed rose petal
the last leaf
with the rain drops
leaves flutter to the ground
fall showers
fallen leaves
circusing in the grass
merry-go-wind
October shower
leaves in the gutter
disembark
leaves changing colors
across the landscape
season's chameleons
morning rain
under maple leaves
tap my shoulder
leaves ripple
with melodies
cicadas song
These were published online by Sketchbook. See September/October “leaves” Haiku thread:
poem by Ben Gieske
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Autumn
The early evening sun set
brings blazing colors
red, yellow, many shades of orange
the beautiful painted clouds flowing so gently
the landscape changing so beautifully to the season
the trees changing colors and the leaves falling so gracefully
the cold brisk wind bring chills to the body
the autumn season brings lovely scenes
mother nature painting at her best
to bring the painting to life so splendidly
birds soaring south for the winter season
parents raking leaves, kids jumping in piles
laughter fills the air, what a pair
the beautiful time of the year
autumn the season of change and beauty
mother nature at her best
creating endless landscapes, so breathless
poem by Michael Peterson
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Memory
When I was young my heart and head were light,
And I was gay and feckless as a colt
Out in the fields, with morning in the may,
Wind on the grass, wings in the orchard bloom.
O thrilling sweet, my joy, when life was free
And all the paths led on from hawthorn-time
Across the carolling meadows into June.
But now my heart is heavy-laden. I sit
Burning my dreams away beside the fire:
For death has made me wise and bitter and strong;
And I am rich in all that I have lost.
O starshine on the fields of long-ago,
Bring me the darkness and the nightingale;
Dim wealds of vanished summer, peace of home,
And silence; and the faces of my friends.
poem by Siegfried Sassoon
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mid-summers Rain
-
MID-SUMMER’S RAIN!
Juicy water melons and iced buttermilk,
Cool breeze of summer with waves kissing
our feet,
These are a few blessings of an Indian
summer time,
Let’s walk the beaches with your hand in
mine!
O lovely summer time!
Sitting under the shade with cold lemonade,
I see the boats sailing, - their white dotted
sails!
While the surf riders perform their undulating
dance, -
As we sit under the sun-shade almost in a
trance!
O summer’s hypnotic trance!
Next I see the dark clouds on the horizon afar,
Soon they begin to cover the sky entire!
Rain drops keep falling as mid-summer’s rain,
As we kiss each other all drenched in the rain!
O how I wish to spend this summer with you, -
All over again! !
-Raj Nandy
04 Apr 09
New Delhi
Nature
The sight of the hills is a beauty
The bright moon is the sign of purity
The flow of the river is a murmuring music
The act of the sun is so philanthropic.
The rain of the clouds is very refreshing
The blowing of the wind is so soothing
The roaring of the ocean has its own reason
How charming is the changing of the season!
The wide blue sky above and high
Gives us space to dream and to fly
How nice the dew drops on the leaves to see!
Everything has its own beauty, fly or a flea
The trees tells us how to give food, shadow and shelter
How sweet to quench our thirst with fresh cool water!
Does life thrive without the mercy of the great nature?
poem by Abdul Wahab
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A Rain To Remember!
Rain lashed out with lightning and thunder!
For every lightning phone also rang without fail!
It continued till I switched off light and went to bed!
Next day morning some death news due to lightning came!
Storm has dissipated but rain lashed now and then;
It's raining time nothing can stop it from falling!
Today there is complete silence prevailing!
Night is cold and wind has stopped after evening
Yet rain warning is given and is expected for 24 hours!
The summer drought without rain is causing so heavy rain now!
Farming fields without rain crops are waiting for rain
A week's rain at least will make it okay now!
When there is no rain we cry for it and when it is there we don't want
Whether we say this or that rain will do the best it can when it comes!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Still Im Sad
Version 1 (from stranger in us all)
See the stars come fallin down the sky
Gently passing, they kiss your tear drops dry
See the wind come, softly blow
Your hair from your face
And the rain comes falling down
In its crazy way
Still Im sad
For myself my tears just fall in the dust
As I search in the night and find theyre lost
See the wind come gently blow
Time into my heart
And the rain comes falling down
While were apart
Still Im sad
Version 2 (yardbirds version? )
See the stars come joining down from the skies
Gently passing they kiss your tears when you cry
See the wind of summer blow your hair upon your head
See the rain, the falling rain, its rain
Still Im sad
Oh my flowers, my tears are falling two days
They are driving the night profound, they are lost
Flower, flower the wind is blowing
Time into my heart
When the wind blows hard, we are apart
Still Im sad
Oh, oh, oh, oh, still Im sad
Oh, oh, oh, oh, how Im sad
song performed by by Rainbow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: The Wind
What shakes the trees so violently? ’Tis Wind;
What moves the clouds hither/ thither? ’Tis Wind;
What takes the tornado around? ’Tis Wind;
What brings the sandstorm on the earth? ’Tis Wind.
What makes the cool and gentle breeze? ’Tis Wind
What makes the boughs and leaves to dance? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the autumn leaves to fall? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the honey-bees to fly? ’Tis Wind.
What makes pollen reach in showers? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the dust to climb towers? ’Tis Wind;
What spreads the perfume of flowers? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the rain-clouds advance far? ’Tis Wind.
What makes the Wind to blow? ’Tis God;
What makes a Tempest stop? ’ Tis our Lord.
7-18-2001
poem by John Celes
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The Wind Of March
Up from the sea, the wild north wind is blowing
Under the sky's gray arch;
Smiling, I watch the shaken elm-boughs, knowing
It is the wind of March.
Between the passing and the coming season,
This stormy interlude
Gives to our winter-wearied hearts a reason
For trustful gratitude.
Welcome to waiting ears its harsh forewarning
Of light and warmth to come,
The longed-for joy of Nature's Easter morning,
The earth arisen in bloom.
In the loud tumult winter's strength is breaking;
I listen to the sound,
As to a voice of resurrection, waking
To life the dead, cold ground.
Between these gusts, to the soft lapse I hearken
Of rivulets on their way;
I see these tossed and naked tree-tops darken
With the fresh leaves of May.
This roar of storm, this sky so gray and lowering
Invite the airs of Spring,
A warmer sunshine over fields of flowering,
The bluebird's song and wing.
Closely behind, the Gulf's warm breezes follow
This northern hurricane,
And, borne thereon, the bobolink and swallow
Shall visit us again.
And, in green wood-paths, in the kine-fed pasture
And by the whispering rills,
Shall flowers repeat the lesson of the Master,
Taught on his Syrian hills.
Blow, then, wild wind! thy roar shall end in singing,
Thy chill in blossoming;
Come, like Bethesda's troubling angel, bringing
The healing of the Spring.
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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