About Flowers And Trees
I
Why did the chrysanthemum wait long
to open it's quivering twisted rays?
When other flowers are gone it grows strong
in these much more colder wintry days
with cups making blossoms like anemones
some seen as feathery, plumed, or spidery
growing big or smaller in shaded tones,
in the winter portraying nature's imagery
in bronze, brown, purple, red, pink and white
with a single or semi-double blossom
growing to man's and the Creator's delight
when ripe makes growing very unwholesome.
Why was it not sprouting, rising, growing
at the beginning of the lovely spring?
II
At the beginning of the lovely spring
in the veldt among big acacia trees
when the first drops of rain are visiting,
drawing new life, flowers and buzzing bees
I find the bulbous hyacinth flowering,
and its appearance, its fragrance
is almost totally overpowering
when it makes its sudden appearance
with pale-blue petals of strings all opening
smelling like a tiny perfumery,
with bell shaped small cups that are hanging
bright among the green and brown scenery
displaying the joys of living and life,
many times have I counted groups of five.
III
Many times have I counted groups of five,
in things making the way that nature is
and have seen five eggs coming to live,
five leaves on flowers with five small bees.
Even on some trees that number is right
but strangely sometimes it might be wrong
and while in nature I walk along,
I see different flowers in a throng,
hear various birds singing their beautiful song,
there's something in all flowers, in each tree
that tells something about its makers will
who makes all things how they are to be
I have seen even five bundles to a sheaf;
the trees are butting in flower and leaf.
IV
The trees are butting in flower and leaf
as if some kind of magic word was said,
in rejoicing without any small grief,
the growing long green stems upwards do spread
as if new life has come to them again
like from scratch they are programmed to do,
after receiving power from summer rain
but like humans sometimes they do die too
carrying more bountiful each summer day
to the custom of their kind and their breed
till the summer suddenly dwindles away,
again they are stripped as if in need
and I like the fragrant fresh smell the best,
while walking through a huge pine forest.
V
While walking through a huge pine forest
a gentle wind like a friend greeted me
and for lingering long moments I did rest,
feeling from the whole big world somewhat free
and it was filled with the catching smell
of pine trees and soft in its embrace
for many moments long did I there dwell,
by songs of twittering birds amazed
and I then longed forever to be
among the flying birds, the buzzing bees
and the soft shadows, the tranquillity
of the peaked mountain, the large trees,
but sometimes lightning falls in a blue-white spark,
when the stormy wind blows strong in the dark.
VI
When the stormy wind blows strong in the dark
and the dark black evening suddenly glows
and the wind whispers with a howling bark
among the waving, rocking trees and throws
branches breaking, snapping, twisting, tearing;
you can hear that great savage strange beast
walking about, awoke from slumber stirring
during winter in the forest, in the east
suddenly coming to its greatest strength
somewhere in the thick enveloping fog
as the long night draws out darker at length
while its breaking, mauling log upon log,
from this windy monster I want to be free,
let me find some peace and tranquillity.
VII
Let me find some peace and tranquillity
at some places where man have never trod,
experience the greatest kind of beauty
that still is spared from the iron rod
with which man rules cities, huge countries
let me see miracles, see nature's joys,
away form buildings and big industries,
far away from the scorn, the manmade noise.
Let me smell some sweet wild flowers and lie
on wild grass to find nature's peace and rest
under a clear blue unpolluted sky,
away from even them whom I love best
and I wonder before the winter comes along,
why did the chrysanthemum wait long?
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When Days Get Long
I
When summer days get extremely long
the sky becomes a much deeper hue,
a myriad of birds fill the cobalt blue,
constantly singing their gorgeous song
it is as if everything do belong
to the coming spring, are singing true
like some beautiful birds and insects do,
while colourful swarming in their great throng
over the gentle meadow and the valley
filling the tranquil grey evening sky
softly singing a sweet kind of medley
while in jubilance they still do fly
over fields of hay and fields of barley,
sunny day after sunny day pass by.
II
Sunny day after sunny day pass by
with almost a kind of smothering heat
the fields, the open veldt and dirt road lie
far to hot to tread with just bare feet.
Everything shimmers, the poplars that rears
like huge fingers pointing to the sun,
massive broad oak trees of many years
and grass and flowers where life has just begun
glitters in a new emerald green sheen,
the wind rustles things touching one by one
as if finding things where there had not been,
between huge black boulders rocks and stone
the sun blazes on every day the same,
I see the sun making wings of hot flame.
III
I see the sun making wings of hot flame
on the few white clouds in dazzling colours
and in the west there are some small wild game
drinking water while the evening hours
brings the white and blue stars out dazzling clear
with night predators in the pitch black sky
and some more wild game are drawing near,
I hear the hyenas laughing, wild dogs cry,
the growls of lions, the howling of jackals,
I get the smells of the earth and the bush,
I hear some leopards growling, their calls
that are where they are lying in ambush,
at night the predators are hunting prey,
making a living in the dying day.
IV
Making a living in the dying day
swarms of birds fly calling with flapping wings
poplars, cedars and many trees do sway
while the twilight is grey, full of life, brings
as if by some magic, all at play
flying leaves, bats insects and flying things
with a few that lonesome away stray,
most are flying to nests in trees that swings
and eventually places of rest receives
the many small things that are fluttering,
the wind settles among the moving leaves,
the numerous evening birds start to sing
until the full moon shines its silver rays,
when night fades slowly as on other days.
V
When night fades slowly as on other days,
man is still bound by nature and destiny
to the world in which he works and plays
as it probably will be to eternity.
The yellow sun, the cobalt blue heaven
is like it has been from its very birth
with its joyous bright splendour even
like any other day upon this earth
but a time will come when man will be free
from all death and all kinds of destruction
from heartache, the sorrows that he see
with a new amazing introduction
to a place that’s holy, pure and bright;
now suddenly it is silver twilight.
VI
Now suddenly it is silver twilight
and the sheer darkness of night flees away
before the coming new breaking day
with the blazing sheer redness of sunlight
constantly reflecting against the bright
unclouded sky open in its solid grey
with the red blossoming as if its to stay
and in the veldt guinea fowl flees in fright
while a small jackal laughs out its delight
and the few milling dark clouds do stray
before a strong wind as if in spite
and through bushes and grass rocking it plays
churning up eddies before going out of sight
while the hot sun rises with its golden rays.
VII
While the hot sun rises with its golden rays,
you come from a country where rivers meander
where the rain sieves down for many days
where some beautiful wild birds do wander
in lush overgrown tranquil water-meadows,
far away from the busy big city,
filled with thick green living hedgerows
where many bright wild flowers are pretty
but I still do wonder what you will see
in a land where vicious savage beasts
have no civility and do roam free
where the natives have very weird feasts,
where the flaming sun does spare no one,
when summer days get extremely long.
poem by Gert Strydom
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In the Highveld
(after Toon van den Heever)
I
In the Highveld with the sky cobalt blue and open
where rock rabbits, steenbok and baboons revel,
you see the wind skipping through the long grass
and you can still believe in God and His angels,
the rain gathers with thunder
where through the open spaces you can see far into the veldt,
you are astounded by the beauty of flowering proteas
and you still can realize your dependence
but when the city’s rumbling becomes too much,
the jacarandas start flowering in the streets,
buildings of steel and concrete start to curtail you,
you dream about wild flowers appearing everywhere
and it’s the places of a child that you miss,
in the Highveld where the veldt stretches out into the distance.
II
In the Highveld where the veldt stretches out into the distance
and the wind rollicks through the grass
the sky is pure blue and you can look for hours at it,
there you can find freedom from the city’s imprisonment.
When the wind rustles through the march you loose all sadness,
you see the African red-knobbed coot gathering her chickens,
you can hear the finches’ caper, branches full together,
you see every great small happening,
how wild flowers of every imaginable colour
grow as if planted in secret
(and I will go back if I only could)
where I can find some serenity, can have peace
where I will know about God’s heritage;
there the sun shines.
III
There the sun shines
where proteas and aloes flower wildly,
bright up to the horizon
coming out of the earth by themselves
with violets growing purple-blue right through the marsh,
with daisies stretching white over the veldt,
with long tailed widow birds flapping their wings
and the earth is covered with long green grass.
To this piece of ground I am trapped
even when my days are drawing to their end,
it goes even to my heart’s deepest yearning,
with every plant, bush and flower
as it’s bought with sweat and blood,
nobody can strip it from me.
IV
Nobody can strip it from me,
I have to go back to where the sun hangs golden
in the sapphire heaven, I have got to strip the city from me
(but if I only could)
the big desire stays and out of the town I must go
away from the ambulance and police sirens that cuts through everything,
trains whistling almost endlessly,
I have got to go to where only the frog choir and crickets sing.
Again I have got to get the smell of sugar bushes,
smell the rain, spring, summer and even autumn
I must get away from a world where tinned pleasure seduces,
where people use other people for their own pleasure.
I want to stand in the green fields of grass,
when the day dies.
V
When the day dies
letting its last rays fall,
with the birds flying to their nests
darkness comes to this part of the universe,
the doves at dusk still call to each other
as if their voices bind them in the darkness,
you can see the moon sailing golden-yellow through the sky,
you are sometimes blinded by the bright rays,
the city lights glitter far away
in all the colours of the rainbow,
here you want to bond your life to a loved one,
catching her moments long in your eye
when people come together here,
the madness of the human existence is exorcised.
VI
The madness of the human existence is exorcised
even in later years past your own youth,
when you are in the world that your heart desires,
you want to invite the new spring to stay with you
shaking out that which bothers and torments to the early summer wind,
feeling the effervescence of new life,
blinded by the sun you want to find healing
while the whole of spring washes through your life
with the light, air, the flowers, birds and sun splashing down
as if your autumn is only in your imagination,
you want to wash yourself clean from old age,
you are searching for exorcism from the darkness
there are still flowers sprouting out everywhere,
when the colours of autumn smoulder in the trees.
VII
When the colours of autumn smoulder in the trees
with branches being full of coloured leaves,
the sun is still heating as in summer
before the first biting winds begin to whine.
I see opened pod upon opened pod
that lays brown scorched without any signs of seeds,
the dull blue sky has clouds in milky white,
trees become a wild watermill
that is halfway skeleton, halfway still carrying leaves,
afternoons are still drawn out
and even when days earlier end in winter
it’s a time without equal,
as if the summer can last forever,
in the Highveld with the sky cobalt blue and open.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Something About The Girl Called Spring (Sonnet Corona)
I
Just after winter you are back enchanting
with unfolding blossoms on hot sunny days
playing your roles in all your beautiful ways
as if every day is a grand setting
with colours and smells alluring, inviting
man, animals and insects to stray
in orchards, gardens and in the veldt to play
wherever you may be wandering
while insects and birds sing sweet melodies,
even the breeze is charming
in the season that you bequeath
that becomes a time of sweet memories
while everywhere life is swarming;
flowers are as fragrant as your breath.
II
Flowers are as fragrant as your breath
and outside the sun does shine
where flowers and insects ephemeral awaits death
living just as small specs of the will divine.
There are tales about flowers and butterflies that you tell,
about all the minute things, before the first shadows fall
but you have to mention the Creator as well
who fathered everything, created all.
His gardens fill the earth in sheer exuberance
while in summer and spring, in daylight hours
bees, butterflies and birds dance
around the fragrant flowers
in their winged flight,
from early twilight.
III
From early twilight
you are everywhere sent
until the dark night
for the whole world’s enjoyment
and flowering fair
you dance along
without a moment to spare
singing a cheerful song
as a seasonal creature being sweet,
dressed very serene
dancing with fairly like feet
as the essence of the productive machine
and nature everywhere tells,
spring is awaking in smells.
IV
Spring is awaking in smells
with birds singing
rising from the valleys and dells,
sounding in joy about the beauty she is bringing
even every bird, deer and bee,
as the blessings have come
as a time of tranquillity to some
until all of nature is happy and free
when love is finally finding its home
and spring is especially dear to me,
in the air above there’s a vibrant hue
as if it’s a living kind of blue
specked with flocks of birds in their flight;
spring is dressed in white.
V
Spring is dressed in white,
dressed for her wedding day,
when she blesses wherever her flowers stray
in celebration in every day and night
while she dances from early morning light
inviting all her guests, the birds and bees to play,
while she lingers everything is gay
in colours jubilant and bright
with butterflies filling the air,
humming yellow and black bees,
even joined by flying birds that in joy sing
roaming among the almond, peach and pear,
flying to and fro from the blue gum trees
in the unfolding of spring.
VI
In the unfolding of spring
it came to my mind
the words, the deeds and every thing,
of the troublesome kind
that man does to his fellow human beings
as if he is inclined
to act only to his own interest without any feelings,
as if so designed
but around me the new awakenings
are totally unrestrained
in days and evenings
with beauty that is gained
while everywhere flowers are rising,
I long for an eternal spring’s blessing.
VII
I long for an eternal spring’s blessing
as if the Godly plan
in a place where everything is living,
is still in effect for man,
where the songs of birds through the hubbub ring
as if the singing birds are right here
bringing pleasure to everything
making existing so sweet and sincere,
as if from the very beginning
the Lord God was near,
even before human beings were sinning
when these joyous songs fall on the ear:
.
with all of the love that God is granting,
just after winter you are back enchanting.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It is Spring Time
It is Spring Time
It is spring time.
I can smell it in the air.
I can smell the flowers.
I can smell the grass.
I can touch the grass.
I can touch and taste the vegetable growing in the garden.
The weather is changing.
The weather is warming up.
The trees are blossoming.
The flowers are blossoming.
It is spring time.
Easter has passed.
Beltane has passed.
Spring and May is here.
This is the time to tend to your garden and planted some flowers.
Some people pray to God to protect their garden.
Some people pray to Mother Nature for protect.
I do both and I thank God for this planet.
It is Spring Time.
The animals and bugs come out to play.
The frogs jump around the pond.
The wildflower comes out.
The sky is clean and blue.
The sun is shining.
The horses are running free.
The sunflowers are growing.
When seasons the earth also changes it is a beautiful way.
Nature is every where.
It is spring time.
There is rain and storm.
The trees have leaves and it arms.
The trees are ancient.
An apple falls down from the trees.
This is what thinks spring time is for me.
Spring time is beautiful.
Spring time is when nature is beautiful.
It is spring time.
Spring time is here.
The rabbits come out, and hop round.
The bees are collection honey for us.
The tulips are blossoming.
The roses are blossoming, and looking so beautiful.
The lavender is purple and bright.
Spring time is a time to celebrate.
Spring time is a time to clean our environment.
It is spring time.
Spring time is a time when rain falls.
Spring time is the time when the seasons changes.
Spring time is when the plants grow.
Spring time is my favorite season.
Spring time is the time to be happy.
It is spring time.
poem by Crystal Chown
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Seasons
I
As if summer will never end
irises are everywhere in the garden
with opening flower after flower
in light yellow, deep purple and rust-brown.
The bright hot sun hangs day after day
in a cobalt blue sky and even carnations, geraniums
and flame lilies are showing their beauty,
are still holding onto summer.
Doves are still cooing in the oak tree,
their are finches and sparrows cavorting up and down
and it’s as if nature is thwarting autumn
while dew is still shining on the leaves in the mornings
until later the sky becomes dull blue
while the sun is getting much more faint.
II
Slowly the leaves are falling
descending in different colours,
in one’s and two’s and later in a bigger number
tree-trunks become dark brown, red and some pallid
until every tree but for those that are evergreen stand skeleton,
the birds that remain sit next to each other shivering,
wishing for the winter to past
having difficulty to find seeds and other food
and the cold winter wind blows through everything,
filling the air with whirling dust clouds
with stripped branches flinging up and down
and everywhere leaves and branches lie in a jumble
until the wind dies down and the morning fog hangs like vapour,
at times only at noon is dispersed by the sun.
III
Days are cold and grey while the sun hides,
with a owl hunting during the day
searching for hungry mice sneaking around in the yellow grass
and all other signs of animal life is missing
but for doves sitting here and there
on telephone wires,
in disconsolation staring into the distance
and early mornings the grass is covered with white ripe
and it is as if every flower succumbs,
is shrinking crumpled and are folding close
until the first spring rain comes suddenly,
with sprouts and buds appearing and new flowers folding open
when fruit trees are covered with white, pink and yellow blossoms
and the sudden beauty takes your breath away.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Ode To Spring
I
Lovely spring, like an enchanter freeing
the hard dry earth from being dead,
the first of your works I am seeing
while sprouts appear from winter’s bed
on branches blooming flowers glow
in colours of white, yellow, pink and red
while the early summer wind does already blow
more flowers are rising from the grave by your magic will
while your powers works high and low
from the marsh up onto the hill
and there is new life everywhere,
that comes so suddenly from your great skill
while insects, bees and birds flutter in the air
and not a single leave is shed
while in flowering you take great care
while like a princess you veil covers your head,
your wedding dress over all of nature is spread.
II
Your helpers are busy with a big commotion
while into the air with pollen they surge,
while your kingdom stretches over land to the ocean
and from existence, time’s verge
to earth you have constantly life given
with happy awakenings from winter’s dirge
constantly to supreme beauty you have striven
as if by magic coming from fortune’s height
and away you have the touches of winter driven,
away you have swept that dark dying night
while rain fell water are flowing in streams,
back you have brought frivolity and sheer light,
you have turned whimpering screams
into the magic of coming summer dreams.
III
Where you come there is no fear,
no suffering that you bring,
only the jolly songs that one hears
as more and more flowers are awakening
coming to the summing of what joy should be
while your presence is gorgeous and striking,
a gift with love that is coming totally free
while you rush about at great speed,
to nature are bringing growth and tranquillity
coming at a time of dire need
to transform over night when winter is gone
while unseen suddenly you proceed
bringing fruits and the summer on
as of all seasons you are the loveliest one.
poem by Gert Strydom
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First Blossoms
So unexpectedly the beauty caught me,
the first blossoms suddenly bursting out snow white,
covering the whole almond tree
and a week ago the branches were still stripped,
with the winter wind cutting through it.
Today I feel devoured by the winter wind,
I am tied by my powerlessness, blinded by destiny
and I am wondering when and where
I will find You secretly working in my life?
I find signs that a new summer is on its way,
I am astounded by nature
while the beauty comes suddenly
and for Your Godly working as a human I am stupid,
see in nature spring suddenly coming all around me,
Your flowers blooming in their cups,
everything around me is suddenly clean and fresh
and everything You regard as Your property.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Everything is going to be wet
Every day rain falls down
from the overcast grey sky
and lightning bolts
flash blue white
like the fingers
of the gods
caressing the earth
while the leaves of autumn
cover every tree
in auburn, yellow and brown.
Green leaves on the stems
of big pink hollyhocks
here and there
dip up and down
when hit by drops of rain
as if suddenly coming alive
and it’s going to be
a wet winter
and probably
not all that chilly
with rain falling
out of season.
The grass is green
and everything but trees
are growing
as if it’s still spring.
and flowers bloom
on geraniums, roses, hollyhocks,
lilies, irises and petunias
in colours ranging
from white, orange, yellow,
violet to red and blue
and without covering
everything is going
to be wet.
poem by Gert Strydom
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What a wonderful world of nature...
When the early morning is born with heavenly blessed
When the bright sun rays shower through the misty clouds
When the birds choir being to chirp their songs on the trees
then the day being with a wonderful of nature.
I can feel the Mother Nature touches me with her love
I can feel the nature illuminates my heart and brighten my soul
I can see the green grass in summer-spread lovely
I can see the flowers in the spring bloomed lavishly
I can see the leaves falls in the autumn covered earth greatly
I can see the trees full of snow in the winter sprinkled
I can see the stream water gurgles from the mountain
I can see the fauna in the jungles freely set to live happily
I can see the barren lands wet and fertile
Not only they are beautiful in nature
but they serve a purpose for us
Not only they are beauty as forest
but they serve food and water for us
Always, praise the God and thank HIM for HIS beautiful creation
What a wonderful world of nature that you and me live.
poem by Ravi Sathasivam
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Lament For Leaf Loss
Sing sad songs for the days that are gone
Now the days are growing darker and the night lasts long
But listen for the flutter of each shrivelled tear
As it drops in golden leaf-fall of the fading, dying year.
Sing sad songs for the days that are gone
Now the light is growing dimmer and the night lasts long
But listen for the echoes of the summer’s breeze
As it gossips with the branches of the leafless poplar trees.
Sing sad songs for the days that are gone
Now the frost is growing grimmer and the night lasts long
But listen for the rustle of lost autumn leaves
And the crying of the dewdrops as the barren forest grieves.
Sing sad songs for the days that are gone
Now the mood is growing glummer and the night lasts long
But listen for the whispers of the coming spring
When the buds begin their bursting and the birds begin to sing.
Sing no more for the days that are gone
For the light will soon be stronger and the night less long
And listen to the rhythm of season’s song
As spring will soon be with us while the winter won’t be long.
poem by C. Richard Miles
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I Wish I Could Sing Of The Beauty I See
I wish I could sing of the beauty I see
The beauty of Nature that's all around me
In the warmth of November of the Southern Spring
The blackbird and magpie and shrike thrush do sing.
Of singing Nature's praises the poets never tire
And her beauty the Nature artist does inspire
To paint and frame a beautiful picture to hang on a gallery wall
When it comes to beauty Nature the most beautiful of all.
The buzzing of flying insects the flies and the bees
The soughing of the wind in the bushes and trees
The babble of the river and birdsong I hear
The voices of Nature are everywhere near.
The roar of the ocean when the tide is in
As the huge waves crash on the beach they do make a loud din
The howling of the storm, thunder cracks in the sky
When Nature feels angry to scream she's not shy.
Yet the beauty of Nature is lovely to behold
What is more beautiful than the parrots in their blue, red, green and gold
And the flowers of the parkland that bloom naturally
I wish I could write of the beauty I see.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Now is the time of our awakening
I
Now is the time of our awakening
in world where things are beautiful,
with the first caressing touch
of the morning’s refreshment
where the sun falls bright and hot,
where birds are singing together in joy,
in the blue jewel of the universe
about the glory that summer brings,
the earth is fresh after the first summer rain
with every tree, plant and flower
that grows much more powerful than previously
in the glory of their maturity
in every touch, colour and scent
we find nature at her prime.
II
We find nature at her prime
with birds singing joyous in the branches,
and we cannot draw ourselves away
of a world intruding into us,
every morning has something glorious
that we only have got to discover
and every time that you look at me
your glance wants to draw me into depths,
the essence of love is caught
in every day hanging around us,
we celebrate our intimate connection
in every wish and urge
that we yearn for in this world;
now your smile falls brightly.
III
Now your smile falls brightly
over the darkness of my life,
shining like a glorious day,
you bring new meaning each day
when your hand folds finely over mine
you look fragile, modestly
and I see the heavenly cobalt blue colour
in the bright gaze in your eyes
your voice is pure in every sound of it,
you are prettier than the most beautiful flower,
when your arms stretch round my neck
with everything coming out of the depth of love
our existence, our summer becomes holy
with an indistinguishable bright light.
IV
With an indistinguishable bright light
in the blinding bright ardour
of Your Godly omnipotence
that breaks right through our wavering courage
we both want to see You in our foolishness
even if days, nights, times has got to shatter
where You keep the world in Your mighty hands
past seasons of summer and winter
but in no thunder or raining stars
we could really see or find You,
in silent illustriousness You come
where every flower and animal serves you out of there own
from past the age old beginning, in the shining light
in the glory of sunshine.
V
In the glory of sunshine
you are in every bright summer day,
in the stars shining at night,
in the sovereign blue sky.
To me you are the most beautiful woman
who can understand me entirely
and there’s a kind of nobility that I see in you,
with comprehension you know where my life is going.
You are given to me in this summer sun,
as if happiness is bounded to this moment,
in the things we wish for and can do
for a whole lifetime’s meaning
when nature splashes down in moments;
the smell of your hair is like sweet grass.
VI
The smell of your hair is like sweet grass
baking in the summer sun
or ripe red peaches on a branch
that is washed clean in the drizzle
and the way that you reach for me
is like the brittle fluttering
of the wind singing through the trees,
is caressing like sun on glass
and your unknown moving foot
is a butterfly fluttering between flowers,
that only touches here and there in her arrival
before it again in apprehension flies away
with brittle wings banging down;
you are my serenity of the veldt.
VII
You are my serenity of the veldt,
earthly and still noble and pure,
the sweet repeating refrain
that insects and birds keep on mentioning.
You are glittering like an awesome brooch,
with your eyes glistening like the shining stars,
with enchantment that cannot disappear
full of fire but naturally unaffected.
You are the fluttering of the wind
that rustles through the fields of grass,
with the soft touching,
the charm that you find in drops
that sieve down on you, hesitating on your cheeks;
now is the time of our awakening.
poem by Gert Strydom
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A Butterflies Beauty
Butterfly with beautiful wings,
Glides through the summer
breeze,
As the sun shines upon the wings,
Fluttering oh so silently,
Colors of the rainbow begin to
show brightly,
Like the beautiful colors of
the flowers,
Butterflies blend in so perfect,
Making nature look pretty,
Unique patterns on every wing
has its beautiful story,
Just like nature has its own
story,
Where beauty never ends,
Butterflies will always blend in
with almost anything,
Blending in with flowers, grass,
even trees tall and small,
Including a rest on a fawns little
nose,
It is only to say hi and thank you,
for letting me rest my wings,
Now I must be on my way to enjoy
the summer breeze,
Soon it will be winter and I will
have to leave,
No worries I will return when the grass
is green and trees grow their leaves,
When rivers flow with the sunshine warmth,
Animals tall and small roam again from
slumber,
Flowers blossom beautifully,
that is how you know I will return
again,
Fluttering upon the spring and summer
breeze,
All my family will also return to fill
nature with colorful beauty.
poem by Derek James
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The Wonders Of Nature
The wonders of Nature around us every day
The billions of multicoloured wildflowers that bloom in their own natural way
The hum of the nectar gathering honey bees
And the scent of pollen blown out from the blossoming trees.
The pleasant sounds of Nature to us ever near
The songs of the wild birds so pleasing for to hear
And as much as the trees and the flowers and as much as bird song
We are part of Nature and to her we belong.
The beauty of Nature is for all to see
It is all around you and it is all around me
The beauty of our Earth Mother is for all to admire
And of singing her praises could one ever tire.
The poets are inspired by her and in their poems they sing
Of her Seasons the Summer, Fall, Winter and Spring
And in the work of the artist on the gallery wall
The beauty captured on canvas of a waterfall.
The wonders of Nature are around us everywhere
White butterflies dancing in the balmy air
And in Nature everything lives in a natural way
And for to view her beauty we do not have to pay.
poem by Francis Duggan
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As long as I have you with me
This day passing at autumns end
with stripped trees, some flowers spent
and still two doves fly by
in a frivol of feathers
as if charming each other
the blue sky has a cold wind
touching with the breath
from a ice dragon
and the sun’s rays
has lost their compassion
and are growing dim
but another spring,
another summer will surely come,
even if my years
are nearly spent and at their brim
and this is no winter of my despair
while a smile’s on your face
and the fire in your eyes
makes my blood race
and everywhere live is still abounding
and your fine care
is in every little thing about me.
Let any winter then come
even if it rains for days long,
even if snow like a miracle falls
and frost leaves its mark
as long as I have you with me.
poem by Gert Strydom
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When The Bluebells Bloom
There is so much beauty in Nature but as lovely a thing as I've seen
Is in May when the bluebells are blooming on the ditch along the old bohreen
The wild hyacinths of Mother Nature so lovely and bell like and blue
When the bohreen is lit by bright sunlight they sparkle in the morning dew.
Of the beautiful bluebells of Nature the memory with me remain
On the damp and shady ditch of the bohreem they bloom in the wind and the rain
Surrounded by Nature's leafy greenery where nesting birds whistle and sing
In fancy I can visualize the beauty of the Northern Spring.
In May when the bluebells are blooming birds whistle on the hedgerows and trees
And the wildflowers blooming amongst the long grass are dancing in the freshening breeze
And the hawthorns are heavily laden in their fragile blossoms of white
Than the natural beauty of Nature there's not a more beautiful sight.
When the bluebells bloom by the bohreen the little brown lark upwards fly
And pleasant the sound of his carolling this tiny speck in the Spring sky
And though I now live far from the bohreen in distance almost a World away
I fancy I hear the birds singing in the leafy woodlands of May.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Nature's Gift
Being the only flower bearing yellow petals
Growing tall in the center of nature’s garden
Reflecting the sunlight and dancing in
The gentle early springtime breeze-
My stem would bend perhaps and
Perhaps touch the thorns of pink and red roses-
Though only for the moment-
Roses being the most popular blossoms,
People would come and cut them down,
Place them in a vase where they would
Fragrantly and aesthetically decorate their home-
For just a few days before they wither and die-
Being a wildflower, no one cares to cut me down-
Today all of the other flowers have seemingly disappeared,
Either removed by residents of nearby homes or
Their petals blown away by an occasional gust of wind-
I remain alone amongst grasses and forever growing weeds.
Being the only flower amongst grasses, weeds, shrubs and trees,
I am content to be present – enchanted when the rain falls and
Having the space for my petals to spread and open-
So different from the roses, though beautiful to see-
Shall be robbed of their glory, cut and a few days later
They shall perish and be thrown away.
Being beautiful and loved by people has always been
Nearly everybody’s greatest dream, but for me-
Perhaps not as fragrant and lovely to look at-
Being none but an ordinary wild flower, though
I am delighted to be part of nature’s bounty- and
I believe that a longer life,
Being here to experience continued growth, and
Basking in the sunlight day by day and then
Sometimes feeling refreshed by the moisture of the rain-
Is more meaningful and is more rewarding than
Beauty, popularity and fragrance that often
Terminates even before we see the season end..
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Summer Days
Summer days are warm, and wonderfully long.
Deep down, within my heart, I feel a joyful song.
Gone are winter days, with their dowdy browns;
The trees and flowers now wear coloured crowns.
The natural world displays its bounteous beauty.
The soft, summer breeze is fragrant and fruity.
Bees, butterflies, and other bugs, now take flight.
Days of summer, feel so very cheerful and bright.
The days of winter can be so deeply depressing,
But now, their true selves, plants are expressing.
Suddenly, the world feels like a much better place,
And the happy smiles are evident on many a face.
The world, all about us, is given a golden glow,
Which illuminates Mother Nature's vibrant show.
Following the winter months: all dull and dreary;
We're treated to a display that's much more cheery.
Winter woodlands appear so very bland and bare,
But, come the summer, they look fabulous and fair.
Shafts of sunlight shine down through the tall trees;
The leaf laden branches rustle in the summer breeze.
Some secretly wish that summer could last forever;
That, all year round, we could enjoy warm weather.
Once summer is here, you hate for it to have to end;
You warm to it, as you would, to your dearest friend.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Magic Of Forest
.Nature around me, leaves rustling in the wind,
Dewy green grass in mornings, under my steps,
To breathe deeply the fresh, pure air of forest i enjoy.
I listen the twitter of birds that i so much adore,
I love to walk along rivers,
Blossomed flowers to smell and admire.
I adore the forest, the marvelous trees,
I want to live there forever,
Till the end of my days.
poem by Cristina Teodor
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A Japanese Wood-Carving
High up above the open, welcoming door
It hangs, a piece of wood with colours dim.
Once, long ago, it was a waving tree
And knew the sun and shadow through the leaves
Of forest trees, in a thick eastern wood.
The winter snows had bent its branches down,
The spring had swelled its buds with coming flowers,
Summer had run like fire through its veins,
While autumn pelted it with chestnut burrs,
And strewed the leafy ground with acorn cups.
Dark midnight storms had roared and crashed among
Its branches, breaking here and there a limb;
But every now and then broad sunlit days
Lovingly lingered, caught among the leaves.
Yes, it had known all this, and yet to us
It does not speak of mossy forest ways,
Of whispering pine trees or the shimmering birch;
But of quick winds, and the salt, stinging sea!
An artist once, with patient, careful knife,
Had fashioned it like to the untamed sea.
Here waves uprear themselves, their tops blown back
By the gay, sunny wind, which whips the blue
And breaks it into gleams and sparks of light.
Among the flashing waves are two white birds
Which swoop, and soar, and scream for very joy
At the wild sport. Now diving quickly in,
Questing some glistening fish. Now flying up,
Their dripping feathers shining in the sun,
While the wet drops like little glints of light,
Fall pattering backward to the parent sea.
Gliding along the green and foam-flecked hollows,
Or skimming some white crest about to break,
The spirits of the sky deigning to stoop
And play with ocean in a summer mood.
Hanging above the high, wide open door,
It brings to us in quiet, firelit room,
The freedom of the earth's vast solitudes,
Where heaping, sunny waves tumble and roll,
And seabirds scream in wanton happiness.
poem by Amy Lowell
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